The following story is a purely fictional account. Any relationship to any real person
living or dead is absolutely coincidental. The narrative deals with torture and
slaughter of innocent human beings. The author in no way condones or promotes
such acts. This is the world of fantasy and fiction where the hidden corners of the
psyche may be explored. The author believes that exploring such subject matter in
this realm keeps it from ever needing to be explored, and much less fulfilled, in real
life. There is violence in all of us. Otherwise there would be no crime, no war, no
destruction. We must acknowledge the beast inside of us if we are to tame it. To
ignore it and repress it is to automatically invoke its appearance in our midst. 


				Black X Slaughter


"We...killers are your sons, we are your husbands.  We are everywhere.  And
there will be more of your children dead tomorrow...

"...You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their
eyes. A person in that situation is God!"
											_Ted Bundy
 

"I must slay a woman for revenge purposes. To get back at them for all the
suffering they caused me." 
							_David Berkowitz (The Son of Sam)


PROLOGUE

	A warm breeze blew through Kyla's short wispy black hair riffling the
strands that fell over her sweaty forehead.  Beads of prespiration shone, jewel-like,
on her mahogany skin. She stood naked between two cylindrical concrete bar-posts
to which her slender wrists were manacled by steel cuffs just above her head, long
red-nailed fingers splayed, and she looked down a four-foot wide walkway which led
to a small gazebo. Beyond the gazebo tall palm trees swayed in the wind. Not far
away Kyla could hear the murmuring rhythm of seawaves crashing ashore.  She
thought it might be early morning because  a hot tropical sun glared overhead in a
sky spotted here and there with billowy white clouds. 
	The natural beauty of her surroundings was in surrealistic contrast with the
situation she found herself in. On both sides of the walkway ahead of her, powerful
muscle-bound men wielding billy clubs, some studded with steel spikes, had begun
to gather, their hard eyes hungry.  Some came from the direction of the house
behind her, others from the surrounding gardens. The men were nude, some of
them slow-stroking themselves like athletes preparing for a strenuous event, others
already tensely erect, long hard cocks as big and thick as the punishment clubs they
carried.  There were mostly white men but the group was multi-racial.  She looked
on as the group grew to include a couple of orientals and at least four brawny
mean-faced blacks, twenty in all.  Some were jeering at her in low braying voices
calling out demeaningly, some laughed, others scowled silently.
	"Bash the shit out of the cunt, but don't kill her," the voice said.  It was
amplified, audible above the catcalling males.
	It came from the man she now saw holding a microphone in the gazebo at
the end of the asphalt walkway.
	Kyla whimpered.  She knew the orders the man in the gazebo was giving
concerned her.
	She was the cunt the men would bash.
	The sun-heat on her olive-toned skin was drawing thicker pearls of sweat that
trickled down her strong shapely body and into her dark brown eyes.
	"Hit her as hard as you want," the man in the gazebo was saying. "She can
take it. But avoid the head.  We want this pig-bitch alive tonight."
	The men with the clubs smiled and nodded in response to his words.  
	Kyla knew the man in the gazebo but she wasn't sure how she knew him.
	She noticed the other men, those that were waiting to bash her,  wore
armbands with the insignia of a black X'.  Their faces were all mostly clean-shaven
except for some that had a shadow-stubble.  None had beards or mustaches. She
heard some of them speak to each other in what sounded like Spanish. They pointed
at her, laughing at her or cursing her. They were cruel, thuggish men, just like the
ones who'd brought her here.
	(Here?)
	She remembered vaguely the trip to the island on the yacht and afterwards
the window-less cell she'd been shoved into.
	She remembered her three captors but her memory was hazy and erratic,
perhaps as a result of the drug they'd given her - or perhaps because of the ordeal
she'd undergone - hideous images now and then broke through though she tried
not to let them.
	A squirming sensation inside her belly drew her eyes downward.
	Dear God, she thought staring down at her blatantly swollen abdomen,
remembering:
	I'm pregnant!
	The men with the clubs waited, steeled themselves.  Some of them leered at
Kyla wickedly, wantonly; they licked their lips, made obscene lapping gestures with
their tongues.
	Involuntarily, a thin stream of drool oozed from the captive woman's parted
red lips, down off her chin, on to her eight-month belly.  Her eyes stung and teared
up. More strands of memory pierced through the veil in her confused mind.
	She whimpered again and looked up at the row of men, at the asphalt
walkway leading to the man in the gazebo.
	She'd seen him before, when she'd been taken from the yacht, led by a leash,
a dog-collar around her neck, hands cuffed behind her.  He had been wearing a long
black terrycloth robe and he'd looked at her naked body up and down slowly as she
stood on the rough wooden slats on the pier beside the boat surrounded by the
three who'd brought her.  He'd put his hand on her round belly and smiled.
	"I think we'll run this fat pig through a gauntlet tomorrow," he'd said softly. 
	The others had chuckled approvingly.
	Dear God - chuckled? 
	Gazebo-man's eyes were as black as his robe and his mouth was a thin
expressionless slit.
	"Yeahh," one of her three captors (Ward?) had uttered softly. "A gauntlet is
just what this bitch fuckin' needs. That'll get er to start shitting that baby out."
	And then the robed man had casually turned and walked away up a slight
incline toward a large mansion, a white chateau with stucco walls, surrounded by
palm trees and colorful tropical foliage, as if she didn't even exist.  She'd still felt his
hard calloused hand on her belly even after he'd moved away. It left her weak with
a sense-memory of possesive masculine strength.  She imagined the fetus in her
womb (a girl) shrinking from it instinctively.  Then her captors had led her to a side
entrance into the mansion and down a steep stairwell to a dark window-less cell,
shoving her in. She stumbled to her knees as they slammed the metal door shut,
leaving her there in blind silence, barely conscious.  Eventually she'd cried herself to
sleep lying on the cold stone floor, huddled against the wall.
	Another man, a tall, bald, naked muscle-bound monster who wore a studded
black collar around his neck, leather straps that crossed his muscular chest, and
black rubber boots, had thrown the heavy door open and come for her after an
indefinable period of time had passed.  Wordlessly, he'd kicked her out of her dazed
torpor and yanked her up on her feet. Silently, he'd walked her up the stairs and
out into the fresh tropical air, into the yard,  the sun blinding her as he raised her
arms up into the manacles on the posts securing her wrists up on either side of her.
	She did not even think to struggle against the cruel stranger as he fastened
her arms to the poles, or to run from him.  She knew all struggle would be useless
now.
	The house she'd been kept in loomed against the tropical sky behind her and
inside her the unborn baby moved again. 
	The gauntlet men had been milling about but when they saw the bald man
securing her to the pillars, obviously the cue they'd been waiting for, they
assembled themselves quickly, legs apart in an aggressive stance, each club-wielding
agressor some three feet from the one beside him, some of them tapping their clubs
eagerly into the palms of their free hands.  	
	She could hear the meaty sound of the clubs against their skin and she
quaked, her knees weak.
	The gauntlet was more than ready to receive her:
	Kyla Rodriguez, thirty-four years old, eight months pregnant, her memory
flickering, her baby stirring in her womb, quivered like a trapped deer as she bit her
lip.
	She was a stunning beauty, a prize capture for the team that had brought her
in.
	"We're taking you to Black Island, scumbag," one of them had said - (Matt?)
	That was when she was still on the yacht with them.
	"You're gonna meet Trevor," one of the others had added.
	She remembered lying on the wide bed, the rocking motion of the boat and
its purring engines beneath them.
	"You might even be the star attraction..."
	Their laughter echoed in her memory, hard hands holding her legs open.
	The three of them had gone at her again and again, unquenchingly,
animalistically, slamming and grinding her into the sweat-soaked sheets.  She didn't
mind.  She needed their pounding thrusting energy, their sucking, biting mouths,
their probing hurtful fingers.  Her drugged mind fed on it.  It kept her from
remembering... The rape kept her on the edge of sanity.  As long as she was stuffed
with cock and choking on it and gagging on their sperm she didn't have to think...
	...to think about what had happened before that...
	...because before that there was another house, (her house?) a pool -
screams...but it was all a blur...
	In the gazebo the man put the microphone down.
	It made a hollow thunking sound.
	Trevor.
	Trevor was the name of the man in the gazebo, she remembered.
	Beautiful tropical flowers bloomed all around him, all around the gazebo, pink
and red.
	She saw Trevor reach out and flip a small switch on a panel in one of the
wooden columns that held up the roof of the small ornate building.
	Kyla heard a clicking sound coming from the steel pillars and the manacles
that held her wrists slipped slowly open.  Her arms slid down, dangled freely at her
sides. 	Something ahead of her on the ground beamed sunlight into her eyes
momentarily blinding and confusing her.
	She turned her face from the twinkling glare and saw the figure behind her.
	It was the bald man that had brought her up from the cell in the basement of
the mansion. A sharply-tipped metal spear in his steady grip pushed into the base of
her spine.
	"Run the gauntlet, pig," he snarled meanly.  His voice, deep and gravelly,
sent shivers running through her.
	"Run the gauntlet or die."
	Kyla's heart raced.  Her legs felt rubbery, unable to sustain her.
	The man jabbed her twice with the spear, hard enough to show he meant
business, and somehow her bare feet began to move forward on the hot asphalt. 
She knew that running toward the trees on one side or toward a long roofed patio
corridor on the other would most certainly bring piercing steel death.  All she could
do was obey.
	When she was within range of the first two men in the gauntlet they swung
their clubs into her fleshy thighs and sides.
	She screamed and raised her hands up to her head.
	"Run, you stupid cow!" one of them shouted.
	Other man-voices rose angrily.
	"Run, pig!"
	"Come on - RUN! - yeahh - beat the fuckin' bitch - beat the fuckin' shit out
of er!"
	She was running.
	The men shouted, jeered, laughed.
	The clubs whooshed and smacked down on her.  Spikes tore into her skin.
	She stumbled, fell.
	"Get up! Get up you stinking piece of shit!"
	Smackk! Thunkk! Whappp!
	She was running again.
	The blows were vicious across her tits, across her pregnant belly.  She tried to
block with her arms but the clubs crunched into her hands and elbows and into her
shoulders.
	And then she saw what had caught the sunlight making it reflect into her eyes
earlier - the last couple of yards of walkway ahead were covered with broken glass.
	She screamed as her bare feet were torn by the shards and the men laughed
as they swung their clubs.
	Kyla Rodriguez fell to her knees.
	"My baby!" she keened as the clubs whumped into her. "My baby!"
	When she realized the beating would not cease until she got to the end of the 
gauntlet, to the gazebo where Trevor waited and watched she finally managed to
gather her long glass-cut legs and feet under her and thrust herself past the last few
club-swinging agressors.
	The beating stopped.
	She lay gasping for breath on the gazebo steps.
	"Crawl up to me," Trevor said.
	He waited in the shade of the gazebo, standing, calmly stroking himself.
	And then, without warning, the memories Kyla had been struggling with
flooded her mind and she began to wail, racked by sobs, crumpled, folded, bleeding
legs drawn up to her bruised and battered breasts as her water broke, fluid gushing
out of her, trickling off the steps into the dirt beneath.
	Trevor waited.  The men had abandoned the gauntlet rows and now circled
the weeping bleeding woman on the steps of the gazebo.
	The sight of suffering bitch excited them.
	"Crawl to me, Kyla -" Trevor growled. "Now."
	The last word was a sharp cold thrusting energy that pierced through Kyla's
torment. Like the slivers of glass in her feet and legs the memories gouged her mind
and she knew the exact meaning of Trevor's exhortation - she knew there was
nothing else for her in this life but that word  now' - there was no before and no
after for someone who had done what she'd been forced to do.  All that was left
for scumbag meat like her was to crawl up those steps to her Lord and Master -
Ruler of her Life, and do his bidding.
	She remembered the way his hand had felt on her pregnant belly when he'd
touched her as she'd stood on the pier.
	Yes.
	He owned her.
	That much was certain.
	She was Trevor's meat - now and forever.
	The men watched their beaten prey slowly drag itself up the steps, legs sticky
with amniotic fluid, and they followed into the gazebo.
	They would get their pleasure from her now.
	The bruised bleeding suffering pregnant cow would have to suck, lick and
jerk twenty-one men to climax, to cry and gasp as their sperm spattered her face
and eyes and choked her throat and gummed up her nostrils and eyes and ears.
	But that would be just the beginning.


__________________________________




PART ONE
The Rodriguez House

1.
	Actually, the beginning had been two days earlier: 
	Kyla running around in a skimpy silk robe in the kitchen fixing sandwiches
for the girls outside by the pool. The Cordero Valley High School cheerleader
squad, or most of it, had gathered at the Rodriguez house on the second weekend in
October. Kyla's sixteen year old daughter, Yvette had been elected captain and she
had decided, with mom's approval, to kick off the year with a pool and pajama
party for her friends on the squad.
	Kyla's other two daughters, Alina, thirteen, and Isabel, five, were running
around outside in their brightly colored bathing suits, Isa with a Spy Kids t-shirt
which Kyla had made her put on so that she wouldn't get sunburned, and, after just
a bit of awkwardness, the two younger sisters were invited to share the pool with
the older girls.  
	From the kitchen window Kyla kept an eye on the children.
	She was not happy that Frank was gone away on business.  He'd explained
to her that the Wendell account was the biggest money-maker his company had and
he'd warned her that there would be no way to avoid the five day budget power-
meeting.
	Frank was an excellent provider, Kyla thought.  He was also, unfortunately, 
a workaholic. He never spent enough time with her and the girls and he usually
missed most of the important family milestones. Business trips were frequent and
she'd learned to live with that, even though sleeping was not always easy when
Frank was out of town and the eerie sounds of the forest outside sometimes kept
her awake.
	They'd bought the house in Farwell Woods just before Isabel had been born,
a three-hundred-thousand dollar property at the end of a half-mile long dirt road,
surrounded by a quarter of a mile of pine, maple and oak on both sides, quietly
isolated and secure, (perhaps too isolated, she thought) in one of the most
prestigious suburban neighborhoods of the city.
	Kyla loved the house.  It reminded her of her grandmother's house in
Massachusetts, even though it was a modern, updated version of that. The pool and
the jacuzzi, three big bedrooms, two guest bedrooms each with baths, a rec room
and an office - endless closet and storage space - two car garage - well-groomed
landscaping and garden - there really was not much to complain about.
	For Kyla the only problem was the isolation.
	"What are you worried about?" Frank would say to calm her, her face in his
strong warm hands. "You've got a cell phone.  Nine - one - one.  That's all you
need.  Nine - one - one and the Cordero Valley police are here in five minutes tops. 
Besides, we got the best home security money can buy. Nothing's gonna happen."
	Frank knew how to calm her and on this day, just two days before she would
run a gauntlet of brutal club-wielding males, Kyla's worries were banished from her
thoughts. She was busy spreading peanut butter and jelly on slices of white bread
and pouring ice-tea into blue drinking glasses.  And yet, it would be precisely on this
clear cloudless fall day that she would discover, in the most violent manner possible,
that her deepest fears, those that Frank had dismissed and many deeper ones that
had remained unspoken, had been completely and unequivocally justified.
	From a cluster of trees nearly two hundred yards away Matt, Ward and Thad,
decorated lieutenants of Trevor's female-killing Black X cult, focused their high-
powered binoculars on the Rodriguez house and particularly on the girls playing and
lounging near the kidney-shaped pool.
	"Jackpot, guys," Thad growled.  "Fuckin' jackpot."
	"Told you," Ward replied.  All three men continued to study their victims.
	"The cow's in the kitchen and the babies are all outside.  Nobody else in the
house or on the property," Matt reported.
	"So how's that thing work again?" Thad asked, licking his lips.  He was
watching Alina, Kyla's thirteen year old daughter, on the diving board as she raised
her lanky arms at the sky before diving.  The other girls were cheering her on.
	Matt's attention was on Stella Dalwell,  possibly the most attractive girl on 
the cheerleader squad, the one all the boys at Cordero never failed to stare at, the
one who drew the ephithet whispered in the locker room and in the boys bathrooms
- prick-teaser.
	She wore a pink bikini which was extremely skimpy.  In fact, her father
would have given her hell had he known she was wearing it. A blue-tinted gothic
tattoo swirled over her right shoulder. Kyla was momentarily glad Frank was not
around feeling instinctively, even if unreasonably, jealous when she'd seen Stella
step out of her top and shorts.  Stella was a honey blonde and big breasted - she had
a woman's adult body but the innocent face of a child.  Kyla suspected, though, that
what was in Stella's pretty green eyes no longer reflected innocence.
	Ward knew it too.  He was gonna make that little whore pay.
	"The way it works is it sends out an electronic pulse," he said, his eyes
devouring Stella who rose up from the towel she'd stretched out on the grass to her
knees briefly to cheer Alina on.  She had firm chunky thighs, the kind of thighs
Ward liked, the kind of thighs that would take a lot of punishment.  Her skin was
radiant, slick with tanning lotion.
	"Anything with circuits in a five hundred yard radius will be cooked.  No
phones. No alarm.  No fuses. They won't be able to start the SUV or call daddy-poo
or the police.  They'll be helpless."
	"Just the way we want em," Matt joked.
	"Lets go over it one last time," Thad said.  His eyes were drawn to a skinny
redhead that sat on the edge of the pool kicking her legs in the water.  And then to
a busty little brunette with short black hair that sat in a garden chair nearby, brown,
tanned legs stretched out, eyes closed, face up to the bright sun. "Who do we
have?"
	"Kyla and her three daughters," Ward rattled off.  "Yvette, sixteen. Our little
blonde cheerleader squad captain. Alina, a very mature and attractive thirteen year
old. And -" he glanced at Thad. " - for those of us who like em really small - little
baby Isabel, five."
	Thad smiled. Although all three killers shared his interests' he was the one
who enjoyed little girl meat the most.  He'd gotten approval for some one-on-one
with little Isabel - just he and the little mongrel half-breed pup. He was looking
forward to it.
	"Then, guys," Ward continued. "We've got ourselves two little blondes:
Kathleen Samuels, sixteen; Tori Spell, sixteen - Two sweet-ass redheads, Dora
Raleigh, sixteen; Abigail Caldwell, fifteen - One juicy little spic cunt, Carmen Garcia,
sixteen - And last, but not by no fucking means least, one delicious little snuff-angel:
Stella Dalwell, fifteen - half of the goddamn Cordero High School cheerleading
squad. When we're finished here they're gonna need to hold auditions."
	Matt and Thad chuckled approvingly. 
	"Great fucking job, man," Matt commented. "Don't know how you can
keep em all straight."
	"Talk about variety," Thad added. 
	Ward was the leader in this mission and he'd spent two months gathering
intelligence and stalking the Rodriguez family, doing backgrounds and intercepting
all phone calls, establishing the attack plan and setting a date and time.  Originally
following a lead that had come from Trevor himself, Ward had planned taking down
only Kyla and the three girls. The cheerleader squad get-together had been an
incredible piece of fortunate coincidence but still, one that presented some minor
logistical problems.  That was why they'd needed the special electronic equipment.
Trevor had not hesitated to provide it.
	"Mm - mm - mm," Matt commented. "Wish we could have them all for a
coupla weeks."
	"Two days at most is what we got," Ward said pushing his binocs back into
his knapsack.  "Two days before the cheerleader parents get nosy.  Anything else
would be too risky."
	"You're the man," Matt said still looking through the field glasses at the girls
by the pool. This time around Ward was the acknowledged leader of the hunt. Matt
had been in Ward's postion before and, though he was disappointed, he knew better
than to question his comrade's choices. "Still wish we had more time." he said
wistfully.
	"I'm with you, brother, but fuck it," Thad chimed in. "Two days is a healthy
amount of time. Anyway, there's the big bang on the Island after.   And you know
there won't be any time limitations out there.  Trevor's gonna have some prime
flesh lined up for us. Top of the line shit, dude. And we can hang there for weeks if
we want. Ward, man,  set that thing off and lets get started. Time's a wastin'. I'm
ready to take me down some teeny meat."
	"Yeah," Matt agreed finally putting his own binocs away and securing his
backpack. "Let's do it up. I haven't had me any fresh cunt for a while. I'm thirsty
for it, dude. I can fuckin' taste it."
	"You and me both,"Thad snickered.
	"Alright, guys" Ward snarled.  He took the silver canister from his pack and
laid it on the grass.  One end was capped with black graphite and on the top side of
the cylinder there was a small control panel.
	"Move into position.  We go in ten."
	Thad and Matt checked their Uzis, clicked off the safety switches, and
scurried off staying in the cover of the trees, Thad going north past the house then
east.  He would enter through a side door, a sliding glass door, that led into the
dining room and which Ward had discovered was locked only at night.  Matt
headed south to cover the pool area and to make sure none of the cunt-animals got
down the grassy bank and away into the woods.  Ward, once he'd set off the 
device that would disable all the electronic hardware on the property except the
Black X soldier's own equipment, which was pulse-shielded, would come up on the
west side of the Rodriguez property  to keep the females from escaping out into the
access road that led in from West Cadman Avenue, a half a mile away.
	Ward watched the numbers on his digital watch run down.
	Around him a sudden gusty breeze rustled the trees.  Birds twittered
overhead.
	His heart was pounding in his chest.
	He released the safety switch on his Uzi and checked the front pockets of his
battle jacket for ammo.  He had five clips. Just like Matt and Thad. Enough to kill all
the females on the Rodriguez property that day ten times over.  He hoped he
wouldn't have to use the gun, though.  He liked to kill cunt nice and slow - to hurt a
slut as much as possible before sending her on, black X's burned into her smooth
body.  But if he had to he would rip a bitch to shreds with the Uzi.  He'd done it
before.  It was cool to see what an automatic weapon could do to a young chick's
body - and then to fuck that bullet-riddled body while the bitch bled and died under
you - that was ok too, but not his first preference. Besides it was noisy as hell, and
although this house was isolated and the chances of discovery were practically nil,
you never knew who might be within earshot.
	Finally, it was time.
	12:20 EST. Saturday. October 12.
	Ward reached down and pressed the button on the side of the cylinder then
moved out of the trees and across the well-manicured lawn toward the house.


2.
	Kyla was putting the sandwiches on a tray when the lights went out.
	"Shit," she said pouting with annoyance.
	The power had only been out two other times since they'd lived here and she
remembered what a pain in the ass it was to re-set all the clocks in the house,
especially the four VCR's upstairs.
	Outside, the girls were splashing and laughing as before, oblivious to what
was going on.
	Kyla wore nothing under the white silk robe that went down to just above
her knees and which was held around her waist by a knotted cord.  Even though
the air conditioning was on she felt hot - she wished she could go outside and jump
in the pool with the girls but her bathing suit didn't fit and she felt embarassed
about her big stomach.
	Her pregnant belly rubbed up against the counter.
	She felt the baby kick.
	"Its ok," she told it, stroking the sides of her womb.  She knew from the
ultra-sound test at the hospital it was female but still thought of it as neutral, unborn.  
	"Another girl?" Frank had said in mock frustration when he'd heard the
news.  "No male heirs to carry on the Rodriguez name?"
	"You don't need male heirs," she'd replied jokingly. "Don't you know?
Women are taking over the world. Slowly but surely. The Rodriguez name will be
well represented."
	Now she stood in the kitchen smiling.  Waiting for the lights to come back.
	Then she heard steps coming from the dining room.
	Booted steps.
	She turned to see a man that looked like a soldier step through the door into
the kitchen.  He wore camouflage jacket and pants, a knapsack strapped to his back
and he was aiming a black automatic weapon at her.
	"What..." she started.
	"On the floor, mom," he barked. "Now! Or I'll splatter you and your fetus
all over the fucking wall."
	"No! Please!" she moaned feebly.
	"Down! And shut the fuck up!" he spat.
	She sank to her knees on the tiled floor, looking up at the attacker.
	By now he was standing directly over her.
	He swung suddenly, slapping her hard across the face.
	"What the fuck are you waiting for? I said down! All the way down! Lie on
the floor you stupid bitch. On your stomach!"
	She tried to tell him she was pregnant, surely he could see it, but before she
could speak he'd grabbed her by her short black hair and slammed her to the tiles.
	He put one knee on her head and she felt him grab her arms and slip
handcuffs on to her wrists.
	"Please," she pleaded. "There's no money in the house.  You can take
whatever you want.  Take whatever you -"
	"We're not here for money, cunt.  And we don't give a shit about anything
you have."
	He'd said we', she realized and the horror of the situation began to
overwhelm her. There were more of them.  How many?
	He stood up over her and she was staring at his boots.
	"Up on your feet," Thad spat.
	He watched Kyla struggle to rise, arms cuffed behind her, her robe slipping
open as she staggered to her feet.
	"Mmm. Nice," he commented ogling her swollen udders and full round belly.
	Kyla hung her head.
	She realized suddenly that there was complete silence. The sounds of gleeful
splashing and squealing from the girls outside had ceased.  She did not dare turn to
look through the window.
	Thad pushed Kyla's robe back away from her boobs with the Uzi and then
rubbed the cold steel barrel-tip against her dark brown nipples, moving slowly from
one breast to the other.  The nubs stiffened involuntarily.  Thad bent down to lick
at the pregnant woman's tit-caps.  He sucked hard and she moaned as a squirt of
hot milk filled his mouth.
	"Mmm," he growled smiling, licking his lips as he pulled away.
	"We're gonna have some fun with you and the girls, bitch," he told her
softly, standing over her, speaking into her dark hair, wiping her tit-milk from his
lips with the back of his hand.  The taste of her and the sweet scent of herbal
shampoo coming off her long black hair made him dizzy.
	He moved the tip of the Uzi down her swollen belly and yanked her head
back with his free hand to stare into her brown doe-like eyes.
	"That's why me and my friends are here.  Not for money.  Not for your
silver or your VCR's or your damned computers and television sets.  No, bitch."
	He moved in closer enjoying the terror on her pretty face.
	A line of milk was trickling from the nipple he'd drawn on.
	He whispered fiercely pushing the gun into her pregnant belly.
	"We're here for cunt-blood."
	And then he smeared his lips on hers as she moaned and tried to turn her
face in disgust.
	He held her easily by her hair, continuing to kiss her and thrust his tongue in
her mouth. She tasted of morning coffee and bread with jam. He drew back, hocked
and spit in her face and shoved her toward the patio door.
	"Get out there," he ordered.  "You're gonna watch us work on your babies.
You're gonna watch the Cordero High School cheerleader squad taken apart."
	"Pleease," she pleaded, Thad's spit running down her right cheek. "Please."
	He grabbed her swung her around, aimed her at the doorway and shoved her
out into the patio her silk robe fluttering around her thighs.

	
	
	
3.
	Matt and Ward had corraled the girls by the edge of the pool, urging Carmen
and Dora up off the reclining chairs, gesturing silently and menacingly with their
Uzi's.  Tori, Kathleen, Alina and Abigail had been in the sparkling water as the men
had moved in and at gun-point the girls were forced to emerge, half-naked bodies
gleaming in the bright sunlight, arms and legs straining as they climbed up the pool-
ladder, dripping, faces grimacing with fear and surprise.   Yvette and Stella had been
on the lawn,  stretched out in the sun as Ward came up on them.
	"Get on your feet," he'd growled. "Stand by the pool with the others and
keep quiet."
	Little Isabel had been on the far end of the pool near the house and when she
saw the men with the guns she tried to scramble inside and tell her mom but Matt
was too fast for her. Snatching the child effortlessly by her wet braid, yanking her
by it and dragging her back to the group he barked at her to keep quiet if she didn't
want him to rip her little head off.
	When Kyla Rodriguez was pushed out through the kitchen doorway the first
thing she saw is the girls all in a row by the pool and the two gunmen studying
them and keeping their guns trained on them.
	Kyla now wondered if the electrical blackout had been intentionally set off by
the intruders.
	"He-llo, mom!" Ward called out.  "Why don't you join us? The party's just
gettin' started."
	"You better leave," she told the men,  sudden anger fueled by fear.
	The girls looked up at her in shock.  Yvette stared at her mom certain that
the men would aim their guns at her and blast her to bits.  Thad's spittle was still
running down her cheek drying in the sun-warmed breeze as it slicked her neck.
	"We have an alarm system on the property. The police are probably on their
way here already - Leave now!"
	The men laughed at her.
	"Nobody's comin', bitch," Thad said from behind her.
	She spun around to face him.
	He towered a good four inches above her, staring right into her angry eyes
watching her assertiveness evaporate.
	"That's right," Thad told her, a cruel grin on his face. "You heard me.
Nobody.  Now take off that stupid robe and show my friends that fat belly and
those big tits."
	She looked at him, as if suddenly she had lost her ability to understand.  He
couldn't be saying those words to her, she thought.
	Then his hand flew up and struck her face, harder than before, when he'd
hit her in the kitchen.  She staggered.  Behind her the girls gasped.
	"What are you slow or stupid or what?!" Thad shouted. "I said TAKE OFF
THE GODDAMN ROBE!"
	She whimpered as she reached up, peeled the silky garment which she'd been
holding, draping it against herself, (she could still feel the agressor's hard mouth on
her nipple), off her shoulders and let it fall from her.  It slid down her legs and lay
around her ankles, the belt-cord resting on Thad's boot.  
	Behind her the other two men whistled.
	"Nice ass, mom," Matt jeered.
	It was, too. Kyla had a big firm round ass, unusual for a girl of French
descent. It had been and continued to be an irresistible feature for her latino husband
as well as for the black bag-boys down in the Shop-Well mart.  Kyla did her food
shoppping on Thursday afternoons.  In the summer she wore tight denim shorts and
the bag-boys would be in the parking lot watching and drooling.  Sometimes Kyla
was surprised to find herself looking forward to their hungry looks though she
would never admit it.
	"That bitch got a full trunk, dog," they'd tell each other.  "Mm - mm - mm.
Nice ghetto shelf fo' a white girl...like to get me some a' that."
	Matt and Ward wanted some too.  They imagined those big beautiful cheeks
whip and knife-sliced - bruised purple - dripping blood...
	Instinctively, Kyla's arms rose to her breasts as she tried to cover herself. She
certainly felt anything but seductive now.
	"Keep your arms down," Thad ordered. "Down - that's right - and turn
around. Turn all the way around. Show my friends, cunt. Show them."
	Blushing and staring at the ground Kyla turned to the men who held the 
guns on the girls.  Most of the girls by the pool, including all three of Kyla's
daughters, looked down or away, sharing the naked woman's shame.  Only one
dared to look.
	Dora Raleigh, tilted her head like the others but sneaked a long passionate
glance at Kyla.  Yvette's mom was a gorgeous adult woman and the fullness of her
pregnant belly and swollen breasts only enhanced her beauty. Even the worry and
suffering on her face seemed to make her more attractive. Kyla was by far the most
beautiful mom in Cordero high, Dora thought.  She looked like an actress Dora had
seen in an old black and white movie, a woman her mom had told her Frank
Sinatra had been in love with whose name was Ava Gardner.  For a long time Dora
too had been in love - with Kyla Rodriguez - though she never told anyone - it was
way too embarrasing.  She'd had to settle for what she considered the next best
thing and now she longed to hold Kyla in her arms and kiss her and tell her
everything was going to be alright, to comfort her.  But things were not going to be
right, Dora knew.  She knew from the way the men looked at Kyla things were
going to be real bad. For all of them.
	"God-damn -"Ward exclaimed. "That is one fuckin' pregnant cow."
	Matt whistled then snarled: "Shitt...nice....real fuckin' nice..."
	"Must be seven, eight months,"Thad offered. "Whatta you think, Ward?"
	"Shit. I'm no expert.  How far along are you, mom? Seven? Eight?"
	" - e - eight -" she replied weakly.
	"What's that running out of her tit?" Matt questioned, grinning. "Is that
milk? Jesus - fuckin' milk?  Did you suck that out of er, Thad?"
	Thad smiled knowingly.
	"Goddamn Thad," Ward said. "Hope you left some for us."
	"Plenty to go around," Thad said. "Believe me.  She could probably feed the
whole damn group."
	"We'll get to it," Ward said.  "Right now we should get started on the girls.
Whatta you think, mom?"
	"Please," Kyla whimpered. "Please don't hurt them. Don't."
	"On your knees," Thad barked behind her, his Uzi to her head. "Now."
	"....please..." she groaned sliding down to the ground as Thad reached down
and tossed her robe into the bushes.  She had been the adult in charge, responsible
for the young girls. But now she was no more in charge than the children she'd
been responsible for.  My God, she thought.  What's going to happen?
	"You just kneel there and watch, pig.  Kneel there and watch."
	"Alright, girls," Ward said hoarsely raising the Uzi threateningly.  "Turn and
face the house.  Keep quiet and don't move."
	Abigail and Kathleen had begun to sob softly.  Tori and Stella were still in
shock.  Dora and Carmen stared in sullen silence. Beside them Isabel clung to her
sister Alina trembling.  
	"Are you going to shoot us?" Stella asked Ward.
	"Maybe we will and maybe we won't, bitch," Matt snarled, stepping up close
to the pretty big-titted teen, close enough to smell her. "Right now we want you to
turn your backs to us and face the goddamn house.  Ok?  All of you."
	Reticently, the girls obeyed.  Matt separated Isabel from her sister and the
child began to cry.
	The girls looked across the pool and to the Rodriguez house as the sun beat
down on them.
	Starting at the end of the row, Matt began to strip the bathing suit tops off
them, one by one, while Ward kept them in check with his Uzi.  With Dora,
Kathleen and Abigail, Matt used his hunting knife to slice the straps off their one
piece suits before peeling them down to their waists.  With Isabel he made her lift
her arms up to peel off the five-year old's Spy Kids t-shirt, tossing it to the ground,
before slicing the top of her blue two-piece clean off her.  The child was wailing
unconsolably and rubbing the tears from her eyes. Matt took her by the scruff of
the neck and squeezed hard leaning down to whisper in her ear.
	"Quiet!"
	Instantly the child stifled herself, her shoulders still twitching with her muted
sobs.
	Stella Dalwell was last in line.
	Matt didn't rush it.  He peeled the spagetti straps off her shoulders, the left
one first, then the right one, his fingers brushing over the spiraling tatoo, Stella
stiffening under his touch, then he pressed his cold blade against her spine, cutting-
edge up against the back of the flimsy strip of pink fabric, making her whimper and
hang her head and shut her eyes tightly in terror.  With a deft stroke he sliced the
bikini top off her and Stella's big firm jugs bounced loose.
	The men hissed approvingly.
	Ward smiled thinking of what he would do later to those lovely flesh orbs.
	"No milk here, guys," Matt joked.. "Just grade-A prime meat!"
	Stella let out a sob and simultaneously and involuntarily peed herself.
	The killers laughed as urine streamed down her tanned legs and puddled at
her feet. 
	 Under their camouflage pants the men's erections were pushing up fabric.
Their balls swollen and hot as they studied the now topless terror-stricken group of
victims. Ward walked around the pool slowly until he faced the young females.
	"O.K., girls," he told them, speaking softly and evenly, his camouflage pants
bulging at the crotch as he aimed his Uzi at them.  They trembled in fear,  the ones
that had been in the water still shiny-wet, goose-flesh on cold girl-skin. They were
afraid to even look at him, in awe of his eerie self-confidence.
 	"Take those bathing suits off," he ordered. " - all the way off. We want you
naked."
	"Pleease," Kyla called out.
	"Shut up, bitch," Thad growled meanly, pushing the cold barrel of his Uzi
against the back of the kneeling pregnant woman's neck.
	"...don't hurt them..." she moaned, directing her words more at Thad than at
the others.
	He leaned down and grabbed her hair to snarl into her ear.
	"Just - SHUT - THE - FUCK - UPP!"
	His last word spat into her ear-lobe and she cringed, her eyes shimmering
with tears, her knees smarting against the hard concrete.
	By the pool the girls had begun to squirm uncomfortably out of their suits,
slowly and tearfully under the hungry eyes of the intruders and their chillingly calm
leader, all of the females crying quietly now.
	Kyla looked on helplessly.  Her heart went out to the kids but most of all to
her precious little Isabella whose small thin child's body contrasted with the
blossoming voluptuousness of the older teens.
	"...beautiful..."Thad whispered, his eyes moving from one victim to the next.
	He noticed the small rose tatoo on Stella's left buttcheek as she bent down
to step out of her bikini bottom.
	"Fuckin' beautiful..."
	"That's nice," Ward was saying, his eyes too devouring the feast of girlflesh
now vulnerably exposed in the hot glaring afternoon sun. "Very very fuckin' nice,
girls. Now, I'm gonna lay down the rules.  Its just one fuckin' rule, really.  Just one
for your stupid little female brains to keep track off - and this goes for you too,
mom," he added, raising his voice and looking across at Kyla for emphasis. " The
rule of  the day, children, is this:  if one of you tries anything - running away, or
doing anything stupid, like disobeying us or interfering with our fun - the rest will be
shot.  That's right.  When you think about trying something remember that the lives
of all the others are on you.  If you've gotten away we will not hesitate to kill your
friends and their deaths will be your fault.  If you do something that disrupts our
plans then you will watch the others die before we kill you.  You're all in this boat
together - and we're in charge. What we say  goes, no questions asked."
	"Did you get that, Isa?" he barked.
	The name of her youngest child on this brutal man's lips was like a shaft of
ice driven into Kyla's heart.
	The little girl shuddered when she was named then nodded but didn't look
up.
	"Can't run away," she whimpered.
	"That's right," Ward replied.  "If Isa gets it then I know the rest of you do."
	Ward turned to Kyla who was looking at him gaping in horror.
	"Yes, cunt. We know all your names.  You and the children.  We know
everything there is to know about all of you. Everything."
	Kyla shivered involuntarily.
	He stared her down then turned to Matt.
	"Bring the handcuffs and the ropes from the truck.  Let's get this show on
the road."



4.
	Matt had seen a book in the mall a few weeks before.
	It was called "14,000 Things To Be Happy About".  It seemed the asshole
who wrote it had been keeping a list of all the things in life that made him happy -
all G-rated of course...flowers blooming in the spring, squirrels running up trees,
little kids sucking on popsicles, boats racing on the water...that kind of crap.
	Matt was adding a couple of things to the list - things that made MATT
happy.
	Naked teenage girls bound against tree-trunks.
	The horror in a mother's eyes.
	The fear of death in a female victim.
	The anticipation of killing cunt.
	The taste of girlmeat.
	Yeah, Matt was busy making his mental list as the afternoon went on.
	First, and foremost, as an enjoyable prelude and to start things off on the
right note they made the girls run through some of their cheerleading routines
by the pool - naked, of course.  Alina, Isa and Kyla made to kneel and watch.
	The girls at first showed no enthusiasm for the idea and they hopped
about spiritlessly and awkwardly but when Matt and Thad put their guns to mom,
sis and baby sis's head the Cordero High cheerleading squad got a little more into it.
	"Go! Cordero! Go!" they sobbed, red-faced, struggling with their
coreographic formations, their bare feet slapping on the concrete as they leaped
toward the indifferent clear blue sun-spangled sky.  "Hey, Cordero, win today! Hey,
Cordero, we say HEY! We can do it! Do or die! Give it up for big C' high!"
	The killers smirked, Uzi's at the ready, but relaxed.
	Thad had gone in the house remembering the sandwiches and the glasses of
tea Kyla had been preparing when he'd marched into the kitchen.  He brought the
tray out and the men ate and drank while they watched the naked cheerleaders
perform.   
	Control had been established.  The killers could relax. The naked females
belonged to them now.
	"Cordero High is here to win!" the girls chanted robotically as they struggled
through their drills. "If you don't know then where you been? Cordero Bulls you
are the best!  You always leave behind the rest!  Hey, Cordero, win today! Hey,
Cordero, we say HEY!"
	The men watched the strong athletic bodies leap and bounce, especially Stella
Dalwell and Carmen Garcia whose firm bare boobs waggled and bobbed with the
frenetic movement of the cheerleading routines.  Strong legs kicked and twirled,
unhindered by the suggestive swirl of short striped skirts, freely exposed,  young
firm bodies naked and performing.
	Watching the young girls kick high or slide down into perfect splits, their
pussies right up against the concrete Matt began to anticipate what it would be like
to pound his fists into them, especially into their sweet little cuntmounds.
	Yvette led the cheers, front and center, her short blonde hair and her little
titties bouncing.  Tears and sweat flicked off her face as she moved trying to smile
like the men wanted but failing miserably.  Ward watched her, his eyes glued to her
face.  She didn't dare stare back. She was afraid of what was in his eyes.
	I'd like to put my fist up your little pussy, Ward thought as he eyed her.
	All the fuckin' way up in there, you prissy little whore...
	The energetic teen-girl voices raised in unison excited the killers almost as
much as the look of terror on the young faces, a look the Cordero cheerleaders
found impossible to suppress.
	The killers made the girls repeat their routines over and over again, exhorting
them to do better, to put more into it, until one by one the young females began to
give out and crumple exhaustedly, panting, flushed and sweaty while the men
finished the sandwiches and chugged back the cold sweet tea from Kyla's gleaming
blue glasses until it was all gone.
	Naked teenage cheerleaders collapsing, Matt thought adding to his list.
	Pregnant kneeling mom sobbing.
	Then they'd taken the girls to the maple trees in the yard that surrounded
the pool, making them stand, backs against the rough bark, cuffing them wrist to
wrist, two girls to each tree, Kathleen and Tori, the two skinny blondes;
Abigail and Dora the two redheads, one taller than the other; and, naturally,
Carmen, Yvette, and Stella, the meatiest, all three circling one trunk.  Kyla, Abigail
and Isa were bound to an oak tree nearer the house, hands cuffed behind them. 
Kyla's two daughters were bound together with rope hugging each other, Isa's face
between Alina's small baby-tits; a stretch of rope wound  around Alina's and her
mother's necks, another went around their waists and a third went around their
ankles securing them awkwardly but firmly to the tree.
	While Ward and Thad tied the girls to the trees Matt fired up the large
gas barbecue grill on the end of the patio near the house and laid out the
three X' brands as well as two long steel shafts on the coals.  Then he mounted the
two video cameras on opposite ends of the swimming pool and connected them to
the video tape deck.  He estimated there was about four hours of good sunlight left -
after that they'd most likely end up in the house.
	Now, under the hot California sun, on the Rodriguez lawn, Trevor's three
brutal lieutenants stripped naked. Around their waists they strapped broad black
leather belts with hunting knife-sheaths whips and gun holsters dangling from them.
Two boxes they'd brought from the truck parked up the road from the house sat
on the grass by the pool.  They were filled with all kinds of torture and bondage
devices.
	By the time they started in on their first two victims it was already mid
afternoon.
	The beauty of Ward's plan was that all the victims, including Kyla, would be
able to watch the action by the pool while helplessly bound to the trees surrounding
the property. Seeing their friends brutally and mercilessly tortured would contribute
to the helpless horror and terror each victim would feel when it was finally their
turn.  For Kyla, watching her own children's torture, would be an additional almost
intolerable emotional burden.
	Tori and Kathleen, the two blondes, were chosen first, brought from the tree
to the side of the pool, which Ward mentally designated as the unofficial staging area
for the moment.  	The two lanky white-bread bitches were bound back to back,
their arms pulled backward, wrists crossed and roped, one victim's captive hands
pressing into the other's belly.  They stood uncertainly, out of balance, as the men
circled them glaring meanly.
	"What's your name?" Matt asked the long-haired blonde.
	"Kathleen," she whined.  The girl was trembling in fear and shame.  She'd
never been naked in front of a man and she'd never been bound, or leered at. 
	"- uhm - Kath-leen S-Samuels," she stammered.
	Matt's hand flew up and smacked her face turning her head.
	She let out a cry of surprise.
	"No," he spat. "Your name is pig'. Say it for me. Say it."
	She looked at him dazed and he slapped her again.
	Behind Kathleen Tori felt the blow almost knock Kathleen off her feet and
she anchored her own legs to hold her friend up.
	"P-pig," Kathleen muttered.
	Matt hit her again.
	"Louder!" he exhorted.
	"Pig!" she croaked weakly.
	" - and you?" Ward asked Tori.
	Tori looked into his cold gray eyes.
	"Tori Spell," she said bravely.
	Ward slammed his fist into her flat sweat-sheened abdomen.
	"Ugghh!" she gasped.
	"Your name is CUNT," he snarled.
	The other men laughed meanly as the two girls staggered against each other.
	"Say it for me Tori Spell. Tell me your new name."
	"Fuck you," Tori snarled.
	"Woohh," the men chorused.
	"We got a live wire, here," Ward snickered. "Ok, cunt. If that's how you
want it..."
	He right-lefted Tori with several brutal slaps across the face then began
punching her cunt.  
	The skinny blonde jerked and twitched and cried out held in position by
Kathleen's body.
	Ward stepped out of the way and Matt took over.
	Two quick jabs to the face and Tori's lips bled and her right eye began to
swell.
	Thad pounded the heel of his foot down into the skinny short-haired fake-
blonde slut's bare toes and as she screamed he took a hard power swing at her jaw
sending her head back over Kathleen's shoulder.
	Ward came back grabbed her by the hair and got in her face.
	"Ready to tell me your new name now?"
	She nodded, bleeding lips quivering.
	"T - To - ri - S - Spell - f - fuckwad," she gasped.
	"Tori, no!" Kathleen groaned.
	"Cut her loose," Ward barked.
	When Tori was released from her bondage to her friend, Ward put his hand
on Kathleen's shoulder and forced the long haired blonde to kneel.
	"Just stay there, pig," he snarled.
	Tori stood uncertainly as the three men circled her.
	"We don't deal well with discipline problems, Tori," Ward told the beaten,
bloody-lipped teen. "Not well at all..."
	Kathleen watched the men circle Tori.  Their faces were predatorial now.
	The other girls and Kyla watched too as they strained against the ropes and
cuffs that held them against the fluttering maples.
	"Maybe you can get away with that shit at school or with your mom," Ward
continued. "But I'll tell you right now - it ain't gonna fly here."
	The men began the merciless unchecked beating of the hapless teenager. 
	Their fists slammed into her belly and chest and back, into her face.  She
staggered backward into one man and was pushed back into the middle.  She sank
to her knees and was hauled back up by her hair.  She cried out for it to stop but
her cries were cut short by thumping blows that winded her.  She screamed. Her
arms flailed. She tried to back away but was unable to escape them.  Held between
Matt and Thad she became a target for Ward's fierce karate kicks to the cunt, belly,
chest and face until blood spurted from her broken nose.  Horrified, the other
females looked on as two more kicks busted up Tori's ribcage.
	"Hold her open," Ward snarled. "I'm gonna fuck all the bravery out of er."
	He grabbed Kathleen by her hair and tugged her head to his long erect shaft.
	"Suck it in your mouth, pig," he ordered. "Get it ready."
	Kathleen had never even been with a man, much less seen a penis that size up
close but she had no choice and she knew it.  Ward held her, yanking her hair,
pushing the head of his prick into the kneeling virgin's lips.
	She choked as he slid into her throat and looked up at him helplessly.
	As he pumped in and out of her gullet she made gagging noises and coughed
up spit, her face flushed.
	"This one's a first-timer," he growled then slid out of Kathleen's mouth and
put his cock up against Tori's pink cunt-slit.
	"This one isn't," he reported, smiling.
	Tori dangled, cradled between Matt and Thad who held her up level with
Ward's oncoming fuck-stick.  Her head hung back, blood trickling into her fake
blonde hair, her eyes seeing the world in an upside-down daze, the pool as sky,
the sky as ground.
	"Bitch!" Ward shouted and pushed his cock into the beaten cheerleader's
tight cuntal sheath.  She was dry but Kathleen had put some spit on him and
it facilitated the in-thrust.  He began to fuck the young slut and his hands went up
around her throat.
	"Yeahh - yeahh - yeahh -" he grunted as her pussy squeezed him involuntarily.
	Glaring back at Kathleen over his shoulder he snapped:
	"Get over here and lick my balls, pig!"
	Kathleen jumped to obey him crawling up under him to do as he asked,
smearing her lips and tongue against his sweaty genital sacs desperately as he drove
his thick cock in and out of Tori Spell's split-wide pussy.
	"Gghhh! GGgg!" Tori groaned as Ward's strong fingers tightened around her
trachea blocking the oxygen flow.
	He choked her hard and rammed his cock deep, hilting it in the skinny bitch,
the other one busily licking all over his balls.
	Matt and Thad helped swinging the cradled victim into Ward's punitive thrusts.
	"My turn," Thad grunted.
	Thad and Ward switched places.
	Thad fucked Tori with slower, angrier thrusts gripping her tits, pinching her
nipples until she squealed before moving his hands up to her bruised throat.
	After a few minutes Thad and Matt switched places all of them taking turns to
slam their cocks into the young outspoken cheerleader, to fuck, punch, slap, pinch and
choke her, showing her who she was and who she belonged to.  
	"Are we having fun yet?" Matt called out as he pushed into Tori's well-fucked
cunt for the third time.
	The men laughed.They went at her for a good half hour making Kathleen
continue to lick their balls and shafts until the kneeling girl's spit had almost run dry.
	Finally they dropped Tori to the ground and she lay in a wasted heap bringing
her legs up to her chest, trembling, cringing, blood dripping from her swollen blue-
black pussy-lips.
	Ward stood over her and put his boot on her shoulder.
	"So - just for the fuckin' record -"  Ward said softly, slowly stroking himself.
"What's your name now?"
	The sound from Tori was a pitiful whimper, weak and hoarse.
	" - c-cunt -" she said.
	"Louder," Ward insisted. "Let all your friends hear it."
	Tori began to cry, one eye almost shut, dry blood sticky on her lips and nostrils,
face and body bruised and aching. Her girlish voice called out defeatedly, signalling
that opposition, defiance and humanity had been crushed in her - an ominous symbol
for the rest of the females on the Rodriguez property who reacted with silent horror
as the young cheerleader's voice warbled tremulously.
	"g-gaaaaa -" she wailed. "C-cuunnntttt! CUUNNTTT!"
	"Ye-ahh!" Matt grunted approvingly.
	Tori's defeat pleased the killers, raised their sense of sadistic power.
	"Seems like cunt' got most of our attention," Ward joked sardonically, staring
at Kathleen. 	
	"We shouldn't neglect pig', should we?"
	"Definitely not," Matt agreed. "On your back, pig."
	Kathleen slid off her knees and sat first then lay back on the concrete, staring at
the sky, trembling with anticipation.
	"Such an obedient little fuck," Matt snarled kicking her legs apart and sliding
down to his knees between them. "Such a good little girl..." Then, to Thad as he
pushed the head of his cock up to her tight slit. "Damn, dude. You were right.  This
bitch's definitely a first-timer...uhhh...nice and tight, feels soo right, ye-heaahh!"
	Kyla and the other girls watched helplessly as now Matt's hips drew back and
he pressed his big meat-spear into Kathleen.  As his hips thrust forward Kathleen's
back arched and she let out a long keening cry.
	Matt leaned over her to bite her tits and nipples as he busted her hymen.
	As Matt began slow-fucking his virgin victim lubricated by her first blood Ward
bent down to drag Tori by one leg to one of the reclining chairs.  Between he and
Thad they hauled the beaten teenager up on her feet. Thad lay back in the recliner and
Ward lowered Tori on to his partner's upright prick making the wobbly beaten teen
straddle the chair as she faced Thad's feet, easing her down until Thad got a hold of
her from behind penetrating her tight asshole, pulling her down by her arms.  Ward
straddled the chair as well, facing Tori, putting his cock to her disastrously raped cunt
and they took her between them in a savage double fuck.
	Meanwhile, Matt slid out of Kathleen's vise-tight, blood-dribbling twat-hole and
crouched over the sobbing teen's face.
	"Lick me clean," he ordered.
	She did not hesitate to obey looking up at him from the ground her eyes teary
and submissive.
	"Mmm -" he moaned staring back at her as her tongue lapped the blood off his
hard meat. "Ahh - that's it. Good girl. Real nice. Now get up. Get up on your feet."
	She didn't move fast enough for him so he yanked her up by her arm and
pulled her to the jacuzzi bending down to switch on the water jets inside the
round tub.
	"Get in there," he told her.
	She looked at him as he released her arm.
	"D-don't hurt me," she said feebly.
	"Just get in the fuckin' hot tub, bitch."
	Matt and Ward watched Kathleen step down into the bubbling water as they
fucked Tori violently now impaling the defeated teen between them, their strong
bodies moving with an intense pulsing rhythm to wedge their cocks deep in the beaten
cheerleader.  They wondered what Thad had in mind for his obedient captive.
	"Kneel," Thad growled pushing Kathleen down into the swirling hot water by
her shoulder. "I'm gonna fuck your throat - yeah - open your mouth - that's right -
wider - mmmm - wide as you can..."
	He grabbed her blonde head with one hand and squeezed his ten inch rod
slowly into her mouth, his legs wide apart, the bubbling tepid water up to his knees.
When he was halfway in, his other hand cupped Kathleen's chin so that now he held
her head in both hands, able to manipulate her as he willed.  He thrust deep into her
and she gagged noisily, her brows arched, eyes shut tightly.  He slid almost all the way
out and let her breathe, spitgobs rolling out of her mouth, then he pushed back in
deeper, her hands clutching at his thighs desperately, her eyes now bulging and
pleading with him as he cut off her breath and jammed himself down her windpipe.
After he facefucked her for a few minutes her cheeks were flushed red and he yanked
her off him and pushed her down thrusting her head under the hot water.
	"Goddamn, Thad," Matt called out. "You trying to suffocate the bitch or
drown er? Make up your mind."
	He laughed but then his sneering face scowled as he held the bucking blonde
under the surface for almost two minutes then yanked her out. She barely had
time to draw a loud gasping intake of air before he pushed his cock into her throat,
ramming himself into her until her nose pressed against his hairy crotch.
	"Take it - mmmm - yeahh - that's it - choke on me - ahhh, yeahh - choke on
me you fucking little whore -"
	He glared down at her as again she pleaded with her eyes, then still holding
her to him he pulled back slightly, let out a soft moan and began to piss right inside
her throat.  Urine streamed up out of her nose and she coughed and sputtered
but managed not to bite down on him.
	"Swallow it," he growled. "Swallow me, you little fuck - mmmm - yeahh -
yeahh - yeahhhh -"
	When he was done pissing he thrust back up to the hilt in her and felt
himself grow even harder.
	The skinny blonde bitch was arousing him insanely.  He needed to fuck her
and fuck her violently.
	Pulling her up on her feet he sat on the jacuzzi bench, the bubbling heat up to
his chest and he made her stand facing away from him, straddling him, pulling her
down on to his stiff upstanding prick, his hands on her hips as he placed his
egorged corona right up to her little pink anus.  She gave out a sharp squeal as
he thrust up her ass, her wet hair whipping about her face as she shook her head
then tilted it back, her sorrowful eyes full of the late afternoon light.
	Once inside her he reached up and took her by the shoulders to sink all the way
up into her as she sobbed brokenly, coughed, gagged, spat up phlegm and
piss.  He slammed her up and down on his cock using her to masturbate himself
as if she were nothing more than a tight sleeve for his raging prick.
	Now all three men fucked releasing their savage impulses on the bodies
of the two blonde cheerleaders, the pace of the rape frenetic, impulsive, Tori
impaled between Matt and Ward on the reclining chair, Kathleen riding Thad's
long thick fuckpole in the jacuzzi.  
	The piteous cries of both victims rose up in counterpoint to the grunting
growls of their attackers.
	The afternoon dragged slowly on.

5.
	At first Kyla thought they'd all be beaten and raped and that would end the
horror.
	It became clear there would be much more than that.
	Much more.
	Perhaps she had not seen the two boxes of torture and bondage paraphernalia
or the steel shafts and X' brands on the smouldering grill; or perhaps, seeing
all of it she'd dismissed it as theater.  These men obviously enjoyed inflicting terror on
their victims and maybe all they were doing was for show.
	Or just maybe deep down inside Kyla knew all along what would happen but
she just couldn't accept it.  She knew there was such evil in the world, was aware of it
on some level which was why she'd worried so much about how isolated the house
was from neighboring houses. But certainly such evil was not meant for her and those
she loved - only for others - those you would read about in the newspaper or in
magazines - those that were fodder for all the late night crime investigation shows on
the Discovery channel.  Those were the victims. Not her. Not Yvette or Alina or Isa. 
Not the Cordero High cheerleaders.
	Nevertheless, the terrible truth became glaringly obvious and inescapable when
Kathleen and Tori, after an hour of vicious rape at the hands of the agressors were
hung by their wrists from an oak branch, side by side, dangled there like sides of beef,
Tori's body gleaming wet from the hot jacuzzi.
	The men began with short one-tail whips.
	Even yards away, where Kyla was bound with Alina and Isa, the awful swish-
thud of the whips and the screams of the victims were terrifying.
	"Don't look!"Kyla told her daughters. "Don't look!"
	It was obvious from the gluttonous expression on their faces that these men
enjoyed inflicting agony far more than terror.  It was clear that the intruders were
going to fuck their female captives not just with their cocks but with their instruments
of torture.
	Kathleen's and Tori's young bodies danced and twitched as the whips
tore at them.  They spun and kicked their legs and howled with undeserved pain.
	"Now we're having fun!" Thad bellowed, his body still feverishly aroused from
the rape of the cheerleader in the hot tub.
	Matt and Ward laughed as they swung leather across soft white girlflesh.
	Painting welts on sobbing teenage girls, Matt thought, remembering the
14,000 Things That Make You Happy book.
	Making them twist and kick and scream.
	Kathleen and Tori pleaded with the men to stop but instead the whipping
became faster and harder.
	The look on the faces of the girls was disbelief as well as terrified pain.
	Wherever they turned as they pirouetted on their toes which barely touched the
grass,  even when all the way around, they found an attacker ready to swing.
	Swish-thud.
	Crisp hard slashing pain like flashing lightning.
	The ever more hysterical sobbing and pleading seemed to fire up the men even
more.
	Now the whips drew blood-drops, dark-purple line-welts across ass and thigh
meat - then across tits and nipples - then across rippling spines and kicking feet.
	The two skinny blondes, one with long hair hanging in twisted wet strands over
her face, the other with short billowy mane, face and body bruised from the brutal
beating, were awesomely beautiful - trapped screaming cheerleader meat. Kathleen,
the virtuous and Tori, the wild - opposite poles of attraction.
	The men hated both of them intensely, as they hated all females, but also
desired them.  The inflicting of pain seemed a perfect remedy for the hate/need
paradox.  It seemed to release the frustration, the fury in them.
	Tori had often painted her nails black and her lips purple.  She wore fake
pierce-jewelry and studded collars. She was street smart. She was what some people
called a goth girl.  But nothing had ever prepared her for this all-out attack.  These
men were venting a rage so complete upon her that it obliterated her - made her
playful flirting with the dark' side meaningless. 
	They had made her say the word she hated the most and named her with it and
now she felt baptized by it, branded - cunt.  That's all she was now, hanging there and
taking their rage.  A little blonde goth cunt.
	The whips sang.
	Maybe someone will come, Kyla thought.  Maybe someone will hear.
	Isa raised her head from between Alina's tit-buds to peep at the girls who hung
from the tree.  She watched them flinch and jerk under the whipcuts.
	Terrified, the five year old shut her eyes tightly and pressed her face back
against her sister's chest. 
	Kathleen's mind leaped like her body from confusion to chaos.  Her wrists were
already numb from the ropes, cold, her arms cramping painfully and her mind
couldn't get around what was happening to her. On the surface she had always
seemed easy-going and cool. That was all a front.  Now the front had been torn away,
dashed to pieces, and a scared little girl hung helpless for the killers -  a scared little girl
who'd been prudishly brought up by god-fearing Baptists, a child who had no clue
about the grim realities of the world, who knew next to nothing about sex or boys.
For her, the bite of the whips was intolerable, overwhelming, annihilating.  	
	The pain was destroying her.
	 She didn't know that it was about to get worse. A lot worse.
	"Fucking cunts," Ward sneered.  "Let's use the clubs."
	Matt and Thad dropped their whips in the grass.
	Ward handed out the clubs, four-foot, one-inch thick wooden dowels studded
with metal barbs.
	They circled the sobbing pleading victims.
	Surely they won't hit them with those things, Kyla thought.
	God. Surely not!
	Ward swung first.
	Across Tori's knees.
	The skinny blonde's shriek was unlike anything Kyla had ever heard.
	Until Matt swung across Kathleen's ribs.
	Then the clubbing, like the whipping earlier, became frenetic, savage.
	Kyla had no idea that two days later she would know intimately what it felt like
to be clubbed.
	After fifteen minutes the two girls were no longer very responsive.
	Dark ugly bruises marred their bodies and blood ran from their lips and cunts.
	Kathleen shit herself as she twitched under the club-blows.
	Piss spurted from Tori's bleeding cunt.
	Each man took a turn grabbing each young victim by the ankles, raising her
legs back and pulling them wide apart so that his cohorts could take swatting cuts at
the exposed genital area.
	Eventually both girls pissed and shit blood.
	Finally the killers cut them down.
	Kathleen made a faint-hearted effort to crawl away from them.
	They dragged both girls back poolside and Matt turned on the cameras.
	First they branded them.
	Matt and Thad held them up. Ward did the honors.
	Only Tori had enough strenght to scream as the black X was burned into her
left breast.
	Kathleen only gasped as the branding iron was pushed first into her cunt then
into her face.
	More pain for the innocent.
	Then the raped beaten cheeleaders were rolled on to their bellies and made to
kneel.
	"Get your asses up!" Ward shouted. "Up in the air - yeah - that's right. Higher.
Come on! Higher....Alright. Go for it.  Fuck the shit out of em."
	He drew his .45 automatic from the belt holster as Matt and Thad crouched
over the two teens, strong legs wide, the men spreading their victim's asscheeks apart
and positioning their cocks at their blood-swollen anus-holes to push deep into them
one last time.
	"Let me know," Ward growled. "Just let me know..."
	The men pumped in and out fiercely, gripping their victims by their hips, almost
lifting them off the ground as they slam-banged them anally.
	"Uhh - uhh - ok!" Thad shouted first. "Uhhh. Goddamn. Do her. Do the little
fuck!"
	Dear God no! Kyla thought as she watched Ward put the gun to Kathleen's
head.
	This can't happen! It won't happen!
	Ward smiled watching Thad.
	"Ahhhh! UUHHHHH!" Thad grunted as the orgasm began to race through
him.
	"Yeahhh. Here you go, sweetie," Ward said softly and pulled the trigger.
	The blast of the gun tore through Kathleen's cranium and blew both her pretty
green eyes out in a dark gush of brains and blood.  Her mouth gaped as 
her body tensed up and a dark flow of mushy blood spurted from her lips.  Her
sphincter muscle tightened exquisitely in a death cramp around Thad's hard
orgasming cock and he shot his own load into Mr. and Mrs. Samuel's daughter's
asshole with a beatific smile on his face. It had been nice facefucking and raping the
little bitch in the jacuzzi but this - this was fucking mind-blowing.
	"No more cheerleading for you," Matt snarled.
	No more Sunday school and service.
	No more strawberry sundaes or strolls on the beach.
	The other girls screamed and sobbed in response to the report of Matt's
weapon.  They shut their eyes tightly in horror.
	Kyla looked on in disbelief.  The report of the gun and the blue-red burst of
smoke echoed in her mind - repeated over and over - so sudden - so final -
irreversible.  First there is life then there is nothing. A limp carcass.
	"Did they kill her, mommy?" Isa blurted. "Did they kill her?"
	Alina cried and hung her head.
	"Shh," Kyla replied. "Shh. Don't look, girls. Don't."
	On hands and knees Tori watched Kathleen die, eyeless and puking, Thad still
fucking her, riding her furiously.
	Oh God. Its me next. Its me next. Its me next.
	But she was too weak from the beatings to even whimper.
	Matt was pounding his cock into her asshole.
	"Uhnnnhh - shittt -" he was saying. "Get ready, Ward -  uhh Jesus - get
ready - lets do this puppy nice..."
	Tori could barely even breathe. The clubbing had broken her ribcage and
drawing breath was insanely painful.  Each time she exhaled, blood reared up in
her throat and made her choke.  Her breast had been burned raw by the branding
iron and it was still smouldering.
	Its me next. She thought. Me!
	Thad finally let Kathleen drop to the ground.
	Lifeless meat.
	Tori remembered seeing a dead dog on the side of the road.  It had been run
over several times.  Looked just like that. Roadkill, she thought. That's what I'm
going to be.
	Roadkill.
	Kathleen Samuels stared with blown out eyesockets and bloody face at her
suffering mind-blown friend.
	Don't worry, Tori, she was saying. Tori heard her in her head.
	Oh God. Oh God. Tori thought.
	Don't worry. It'll be over soon.
	"UH! uh! UHH!" Matt grunted. "Finish it, Ward! Finish the little cunt!"
	Little wasted goth cheerleader CUNT, Tori thought.
	Tori heard Ward's steps. She turned from her dead friend to look at Ward's
hairy legs, at his feet.  She felt the barrel of the gun at the nape of her neck.
	"Nnnnnnnn -" she blurted.
	"Die, cunt," Matt said calmly.
	Then a blast of fire, a burst of heat.
	Matt shouted as Tori's asshole squeezed him, her whip-sliced beaten buttocks
clenching around his hot exploding shaft.  Her legs kicked on either side of him,
feet slapping against the concrete, paddling senselessly.
	She was stretching, arching like a fish out of water.
	The bullet had blown her neck out and blood spurted from her on to the
ground and as she raised her wide-eyed beaten face, into the pool water, colorful
red streaks on the blue-green surface, redsmears on reflections of sky and clouds.
	Impossibly she was trying to breathe, her beaten eyes fluttering as she looked
up at her killer.
	She breathed blood and kicked her legs again.
	"GODDAMNNNN!" Matt shouted. "Ahhh-AHHH! FUCKKK!"
	For a full two minutes she continued to cling to life for him as he pumped his
first ejaculation in days into the dying teen.  His cum oozed out of her and down the
inside of her thighs.
	Ward crouched down and grabbed Tori firmly by her short hair. His cock was
already spurting.  He shot off on her eyes and on her cheeks and into her blood-
spewing mouth.
	"GGggg!" she mewled. "GGwwghhhh!"
	How could you do this? Her sperm-streaked, bruise-swollen eyes seemed to say
as he sneered with the pleasure of release.  How could you do it?
	Her arms gave out but Matt still held her up to adorn her dying face with
pearls of mancum, thick hot ones.
	Easy, bitch. He thought. That's how.  Real easy.
	Then finally both men were done with her.
	Matt let her slide down to the ground in an expanding puddle of blood.
	She twitched and gurgled there for a while than lay still, blue eyes open but
glassy, looking past Kathleen's eyeless face at the last thing she would ever see - the
Rodriguez house as the afternoon began to ebb away.
	Ward turned and took a couple of steps toward the trees where the rest of the
females were bound.
	"Alright, alright!" he told Thad and Matt re-holstering the .45.
	"Let's keep this party going."


6.
  	Dora had looked submissively into the blonde man's hard silver-blue eyes to
find only seething hatred.  She was on her knees on the blood-spattered concrete,
wrists roped behind her, and he was clutching her hair, the crown of his torpedo-
shaped shaft boring in and out of her throat hole, her mouth wide.  He pumped in and
out of her violently, holding her head steady, and she tried to keep from gagging,
giving him what he wanted, an unobstructed throat-fuck.  At first she'd gagged when
he'd thrust his manmeat into her mouth and pushed inward.  He'd slapped her face
harshly and told her if she didn't fuckin' stop gagging he would cut her pretty little
head off.  She'd gagged again and he'd punched her face almost knocking her out so
now she concentrated doing her best to please him, his prick making wet clucking
sounds as it entered and exited her gullet.
	"Ahhhh yeahh," he grunted. "That's more like it you fuckin' pigggg..."
	She knew his name was Ward, had heard the other two men call him that. 
	He seemed to be the one in charge somehow, although the three of them
seemed to behave as a team - or a gang.  But why did they look like soldiers?
	A few feet away, nearer to the pool, Abigail stood, wide-legged. Thad and Matt
had locked a hinged wooden block around her ankles to keep her legs apart and
they'd put a steel bar with manacles on it on her shoulders, cuffing her wrists to it, her
arms stretched out on the metal bar.
	The thin redhead was forced to bend forward from the waist to suck Thad's
cock while Matt pleasured himself by gripping her hips and thrusting his cock up her
tight cunt-slit from behind.  Thad held her by the bar on her shoulders sliding his cock
in and out of her mouth occasionally going deep to make her choke and dribble spit
from her mouth, occasionally rubbing his balls and cock on her sweet anguished face.
	Both Dora and Abigail tried not to look in the pool.
	They'd seen the men kill Tori and Kathleen and they'd seen them kick the
bodies of the dead girls into the water and they didn't want to look.
	When the men had released Dora and Abigail from the tree and brought them
poolside the two redheads had seen enough - Tori face down and Kathleen eye-lessly
staring upward, both floating languidly in the green water in bloody halos.
	"Please, sir," Dora had pled with the blonde man as one of the others tied her
wrists tightly behind her. "I don't want to die. Don't kill me - don't kill my friends."
	Abigail had just cried and babbled looking down at the ground splattered with
the blood and brains of her murdered friends.
	"Nobody wants to die, pig," he'd responded. "But we all have to. Your time's
come a bit early, that's all."
	"But - but - why? - why are you doing this?  We can't hurt you.  We don't
even know you."
	"I know. That's what makes it beautiful.  Its nothing you did - you just
happened to be here. For us."
	"Just like Jesus on the cross," Matt added.
	"Yeah," Thad snickered. "You get to die for our fuckin' sins."
	The men chuckled.
	"Besides," Ward added. "You're cunts. And it is a cunt's purpose to die for a
man's pleasure."
	This quiet, depraved and horrifying logic silenced Dora.  Then, Ward, the
blonde had stepped up to her and simply said.
	"On your knees. I'm going to fuck your throat."
	Ward needed to do it.  He'd been thinking about it ever since Thad had
throatfucked the skinny blonde earlier in the jacuzzi.  And he needed and wanted to
do it especially with this pretty redhead whom he'd studied through his binoculars
earlier that afternoon.
	As the other two men had pulled Abigail away Dora had slid down obediently,
wrists still cuffed behind her.
	So obediently - Ward thought as he put his cock to her wide sensual mouth - so
fucking obediently - just like the stupid blonde fuck lying in the pool with her
brains blown out.  Obedient girls were his kind of girls.
	Now the three men enjoyed the two redheads, working themselves back up
with them, leisurely, savoring the idea that all the females on the property knew what
they were capable of and what to expect.
	It wasn't taking long Ward long to feel the return of his killing urges.
	He hated fucking redheads.
	His mom, a stupid heroin-wasted hooker, had been a redhead.
	He'd grown up watching her do tricks. He'd blocked a lot of it from his
memory but now and then images came back of dirty hotel rooms, broken windows,
backed up toilets, rats, days without food. He remembered watching her on her knees
in an abandoned building giving some dirty bearded guy a blow-job - he remembered
she and him running from some black guys on a dark street - seeing her dancing in a
strip club from the stage wings - standing in an alley under a pouring rain while she
fucked some club owner in the dressing room. 
	When he was eight or nine, he wasn't exactly sure, one of the johns had come
to his bed at night, ripped the sheets off him, stripped him naked and beat him with a
belt before raping him.  While the strong nude man pounded him into the creaking
bed, reeking of cheap booze,  Ward could see his disheveled, half naked redhead
mother-bitch standing in the doorway, back-lit by the bathroom light, her face in the
shadows, her voice slurred from the heroin.
	"Yeahh Tommy," she told his brutal attacker. "Fuck his whipped skinny ass
good.  Rip him up, baby and then come to momma - I'll lick you clean and
give you more."
	After that it became a thing.  His mom pimped him out.  Sometimes
there would be two men or three and both he and she would be getting fucked
at the same time. Sometimes other women were brought in for full-scale orgies. 
	Even at twelve Ward was well-endowed and the men liked to watch him fuck.
	Sometimes they made him fuck his mother.
	He liked that the most. Especially when she was high.
	He pounded himself into her mercilessly while they urged him on and she just
lay there and took it.  He went through a phase when he liked the men to fuck him
and beat him with their belts while he did it.  But after a time, the pain became a 
distraction and he began to hate the fags that wanted to fuck him up the ass.
	He eventually ran away and ended up in California some years later in one of
Trevor's film studios doing for the cameras what he'd learned from an early age.
	It wasn't long before Trevor recognized the misogyistic rage in the young man
and invited him to join the Black X cult. 
	Since then Ward had enjoyed the opportunity to strike back at redheads
several times - but none as special and as sweet as this little cheerleader take-down.
	He reached down, grabbed an amulet that hung from Dora's neck and ripped it
off her her to look at it.
	"What's this shit?" he asked her, pulling his cock from her mouth so that she
could answer.
	It took her a moment to get her breath and swallow.  Her throat was sore from
his pounding.
	"G-good luck - ch-charm - uhm my - my uncle gave it to me."
	"This shit's Indian," Ward told her. "You Indian, bitch?"
	She nodded uncertainly.
	"P-part Indian," she muttered.
	"Hey guys," Ward said still looking down at her but talking to Matt and Thad. 
"Whatta ya think about this? We got ourselves a little Indian squaw cheerleader here."
	"Maybe we should scalp er," Matt growled as he slammed his cock up 
Abigail's super-tight cunt-chute.
	"Yeah, bitch," Ward said, moving back up to her, putting his cock to her
mouth again. "Maybe we'll scalp you and cut your fuckin' tongue out and shit - just
like what the damn Apache warriors used to do."
	She took him down her throat, her eyes tearing up, and after a few moments
his cock was making that clucking sound in her throat again and she looked up to see
him toss her amulet into the pool.
	She was overwhelmed by the rage and disgust in his eyes.
	"You won't be needin' that anymore," he growled gripping her skull tight,
tangling his fingers in her soft read hair. "Your fuckin' luck's run out."

__________________________________


	A few yards away Alina watched Ward toss the amulet into the pool and her
eyes welled up with tears.  She turned away.  It was unbearable to watch.
	She could feel Isa's breath warm against her nipples, the child pressing herself
against her sister in terror.
	On the other side of the tree Alina's mom, Kyla too looked away.
	There was something about Dora she had never really liked but she still
couldn't bear to watch the sassy redhead and her friend being so terribly brutalized.
Worst of all she couldn't watch because she knew that these two victims were going
to end up like the first two - maybe they were all going to end up there - floating
lifeless in the cold water for days until someone finally came out to the Rodriguez
house to look for them.
	"Are they going to kill them too, mommy?" Alina asked trembling.
	"I don't know, sweetie," Kyla lied. "I don't know."
	But Alina could hear the uncertainty in her mother's voice and she clenched
her jaw and tightened her lips to keep from sobbing like a baby, to keep from losing it
completely.
	Her mother didn't know about what had gone on between she and Dora on a
summer day a couple of months earlier. It had been spontaneous and unexpected.
	Dora had come to the house in her blue Geo looking for Yvette, but no one
was home except Alina.  Kyla, Yvette and Isa had gone to the mall.
	"You can wait for her if you want," Alina had told Dora.  She liked the
pretty redhead with the exotic face and the green amulet around her neck.  She liked
Dora's bronze skin and the way she talked, her voice confident and sexy, and  Alina
knew instinctively that the feelings she had for Dora were not something to talk to her
mom about.  She found herself feeling weak and silly around her - and she knew Dora
had noticed.  She knew Dora liked girls. Her sister had told her one day, giggling, while
they were watching TV in the rec room.  It was a movie and someone had said the word
lesbian'.
	"Dora's a lesbian," Yvette had giggled.
	"What do you mean? What's that?" Alina had asked excitedly.
	"Its a girl who - well - a girl who doesn't like boys - you know -"
	They both giggled.
	Mom had been far away in the kitchen.
	" - for sex - its a girl who likes other girls."
	"Oh -" Alina replied.  She was just barely eleven then and not real clear on all the
details but it didn't take her long to catch on, especially when puberty blossomed in her
and she discovered that she and Dora Raleigh much in common.
	That summer day when Dora had come over it all just - happened.  Both girls had
been gradually gravitating toward each other almost unconsciously and the opportunity
had finally come. For weeks, Dora had instinctively sensed that Alina was attracted to
her.  The redheaded teen pined for Kyla but she knew she could never have her - so she
would take the next best option - Kyla's dark-haired young daughter.
	The house was empty and they were upstairs in Alina's room on the computer.
Hip-hop music was coming softly from the stereo system across the room on her dresser.
	Dora wanted to show Alina something.
	She tapped on the keyboard, signed on to the internet and then to a passworded
site, and the image of two women making love, one woman black, the other a platinum
blonde, naked in a field of tiny yellow flowers popped up on the screen.
	"Mmmm," Alina said, "Naughty, naughty." Her eyes were drawn to the image,
Dora watching her and smiling. 
	"Yeah," Dora had said softly. "My bad."
	Both girls were wearing shorts, Dora red ones with a green short-sleeved shirt,
Alina cut-off denim ones with a skimpy top that hung over her braless little nubs and left
her flat belly and her little belly-button exposed.  Dora had sandals on and Alina was
barefoot, her toes and fingernails painted dark red.  Her father had thought Alina was too
young to be painting her nails and toes and he always gave her a hard time about it. But
she didn't listen and neither dad or mom did much by way of enforcement. So she kept
doing it.  She liked to do it. It made her feel grown up. It made her feel - sexy.
	The girls' legs brushed together, Dora sitting on the chair in front of the computer
on Alina's desk, Alina standing next to her and leaning down, her hands on the desk's
surface.
	Alina was surprised by the contact with Dora, the other girl's skin, so warm and
silky - it made her breath catch.
	"Sit here," Dora told the younger girl patting her bare thigh.
	Alina felt dizzy and her face was hot, as if she were embarassed about something.
	"Sit here and look."
	"Ok," Alina said bashfully, as she complied, sitting gingerly, straddling Dora's
strong leg between her own pressing her tingling pussy against the redhead's firm thigh
flesh, as Dora tapped on the computer again.  Dora's hands moved down to caress the
thirteen year old's thighs teasingly around the hems of her shorts as the girls waited for
the computer to load.
	Another image came up on the monitor: a blonde on her knees licking the shaved
sex-slit of a dark-haired woman who stood over her dominantly.  The blonde had big
hoop ear-rings.
	"Woooo," Alina said in surprise reaching up to put her hands in her hair on either
side of her face, imagining those ear-rings on herself.  Her ears were buzzing and she felt
a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach.  "She's licking the other one's pee-pee." 
She'd never seen anything like that before.  She wondered what site Dora had keyed
into.  It was one that mom certainly wouldn't want her to be fooling with.
	"That's right," Dora said. The older girl gripped the younger girl's hip with one
hand and put the other hand on her exposed tummy.  "You want to find out what that
feels like?"
	Dora's finger circled the child's belly button playfully.
	Alina giggled and leaned her head back on Dora's shoulder.
	"Eewww," she said. "I don't know."
	She looked into Dora's dark green eyes which were right up to hers.
	"Does it feel good?"
	"Mm-hmm," Dora replied smiling knowingly. "Reeal good."
	Dora moved her hand up underneath Alina's top and her fingers now lovingly
stroked the child's nipples.
	"What are you doing?" Alina asked mischievously.  Dora's caresses were sending
bright tremors of heat through her.  She was breathing faster and her heart was pumping
quicker.  Her lips were pouting.
	"You know what I'm doing," Dora said.  "Don't you?"
	Alina looked into Dora's eyes.
	"Mm-hmm."
	"I like you," she told the older girl.
	"I like you too," Dora said.
	"I want to kiss you," Dora whispered.
	"Do it," Alina replied.
	The first kiss was soft and wet, slow and loving, exploratory.  Dora was the
teacher and Alina the eager pupil.  The next kiss was a little harder, Dora's hands
squeezing the thirteen year old's skin drawing the child to her.  After that Dora
began to use her tongue knowingly and Alina fairly melted in her arms.  Dora's kisses
traveled up and down the child's neck and ears and shoulders.
	"You taste sooo good," Dora whispered eagerly. "C'mon - let's take our clothes
off - like the picture..."
	"Mom might come back," Alina warned.
	"Close the door."
	"Ok."
	Alina got up and moved across the room. When she shut the door and locked it
and turned, Dora had already pulled her shirt off and stepped out of her sandals and she
was pulling her shorts and panties down her legs.
	"You're so pretty,"Alina said watching her.
	Dora looked up at her.
	"So are you."
	"I'm not."
	"Yes you are. C'mon. Take your clothes off," Dora said, kicking her shorts away,
rising and moving toward Alina.
	Alina was blushing with embarassment and looking down at the carpet.
	"I can't."
	No one outside of her mom and dad or her sisters or her doctor had ever seen her
naked.	
	"Yes you can," Dora said softly and she put her fingers gently on the waistband
of the younger girl's shorts starting to pull them down.
	"Wait!" Alina protested. "I'll do it." 
	"Ok,"Dora said and stood there smiling. "But don't make me wait. I already took
mine off - its your turn."
	Slowly and repeatedly interrupted by fits of giggling Alina had pulled her top over
her head and pulled her shorts down her legs.
	Both girls, Dora slightly taller, stood in the middle of the room,  a couple of feet
apart looking at each other.  Alina was very fair skinned and her breasts had just begun
to swell. They now tingled and the dark brown nipples were hard.  Dora was already
well on her way to adulthood, her skin dark bronze, her tits full and round with juicy
strawberry nubs.  Her good luck pendant hung between them protectively.
	"This is crazy," Dora said reaching out to stroke Alina's thick black hair 
with one hand, her fingers brushing the shorter girl's earlobe.
	"I know," Alina replied. Then:
	"Did you ever - did you do it with Yvette?" Alina asked.
	"Your sister?" Dora laughed. "No way.  She's not - you know -"
	"Lesbian?" Alina said finally.
	"Yeah," Dora replied, pleasantly surprised that Alina knew the word.  "Guess
Yvette doesn't know what she's missing." 
	Alina stood there waiting, smiling.  "Guess not," she replied, a playful gleam in
her eyes.
	Good thing you can't read my mind, Dora thought, outwardly smiling back. Its
not your sister I want, Dora thought as she stood there watching the pretty dark-haired
thirteen year old.  Its your mom.  But since I can't have her I'll have you instead. She
reached out and she pulled the child in slowly by her shoulders...I'll take you from her
and she won't even know...
	Their bodies pressed together as they kissed.
	"Are you going to lick my pee-pee?" Alina asked breathlessly while Dora's lips
moved down her neck to her nipples and then down her belly. " - like the woman on the
picture in the computer?"
	"The word is pussy' and - yessss," Dora hissed. "I am. Spread your legs apart."
	Dora knelt in front of the younger girl, brushed her hair back from her face with
both hands and smiled up at her.
	She pretended it was Kyla standing there, waiting, wanting her, beautiful
voluptuous Kyla with the Ava Gardner eyes.
	She reached out with one hand to spread Alina's precious little muff and she
began to stroke the child's sex lovingly with the other hand.
	"How does that feel?" Dora asked, her voice husky.
	"Ohhh," Alina replied. "That feels - n-nice."
	She rocked on her bare heels and tipped her head back, her dark hair spilling on
her shoulders, her brown eyes fluttering shut.
	Dora licked the fingers of the hand with which she'd been caressing Alina.
	"Do I taste good?" Alina asked, looking down, her lips pouting sensually, her eyes
half closed, her legs quivering.  "Does - does my p-pussy taste good?"
	"Yes, you do - it does -" Dora had whispered. "Now feel this..." and her face
moved into Alina's pussy.
	The sensation of the older girl's long tongue on her baby clit sent shuddering
waves of pleasure through Alina and she had to hold on to the chair with one hand to
keep from falling.  She moaned feverishly and her hips rocked slowly from side
to side. Dora had been right.  The thirteen year old was overwhelmed, her mouth wet as
she salivated involuntarily.
	She didn't know how long it went on but somehow, afterwards, they both ended
up on the floor, the glowing computer screen still showing the two female lovers above
them, like icons on an altar, as Dora taught the younger child how to do what she had
just done, to give as well as receive.  They'd trembled and groaned and shook in each
other's arms as orgasmic waves flowed through them, Alina remembering the field of
yellow flowers in the picture Dora had shown her on the computer - wild flowers,
dancing and shaking on the wind, exploding all around her like blazing bits of sunlight.
	Then both girls lay on the carpet, breathless and spent.
	Kyla and Alina's sisters had not returned from the store until after Dora and Alina
had dressed.  By then Kyla's thirteen year old and the sixteen year old redhead
cheerleader were innocently playing video games downstairs. No one thought anything
of it.
	"Hi, Mrs. Rodriguez," Dora had called out. God, I love you, she thought to
herself. I just ate your little baby out but its you I wanted - you - you - you.
	"Hi, Dora," Kyla had replied flashing a polite smile.  She couldn't read the
enigmatic fawning look in the redheaded teen's eyes but something about it made her
uncomfortable and she had turned and walked back toward the kitchen.
	Over the next few weeks, past the end of summer vacation,  Alina and Dora
continued to meet secretly, either at the Rodriguez house or at Dora's after school. 
	Kyla never found out what was happening between them but she always sensed
the same odd vibe from Dora when the teen came around the house.  She didn't like the
fact that Alina and the older girl were hanging around together.  Something about it
didn't feel right. Yvette and Isabel, on the other hand, never noticed anything; the older
girl distracted with her school activities, the younger one clueless.  And certainly none of
the other girls on the Cordero High cheerleader squad had any inkling.
	But soon now, in the most cruel and humiliating way, for the sadistic delight of the
male killers, Dora and Alina's secret would be out in the open for all to hear.

__________________________________


	Thad drew back and struck Abigail Caldwell hard across the back of her thighs
with the long wooden dowel.  Her arms were still bound to the bar on her shoulder and
as she cried out in response to the blow she drew her hands into fists.  Her legs were still
shackled in the heavy wooden block around her ankles and she could barely move.
	In front of her, Matt smiled, drew back his own cane and struck the slender
redhead across her belly.
	"We're gonna beat the living shit out of you, cunt!" Thad snarled fiercely,
swinging the thin rod across the back of her thighs again, lower down.  He always
enjoyed telling a victim just what was coming.
	She bent slightly back from the waist but then Matt swung his cane across
her knees and she tottered forward screaming and sobbing.
	Already there were several sharp red streaks on her back from her waist to her
kneehollows and in the front from her tits to her ankles.  These marks only spurred the
men to beat the bawling cheerleader even harder.
	A few feet away, Ward had begun to use a short, studded multi-tail whip on
Dora's shoulders and sides while she knelt in front of him, wrists cuffed behind her, her
throat stuffed with his meat, lips wide, head craning upward to receive her assailant's
thrusting prick, as he painted dark multiple welt-cuts on her.
	Kyla and her two young daughters, Alina and Isabel, along with Yvette, Carmen
and Stella, who were bound to a tree nearby, watched what was happening with a sense
of dread,.  The females knew the violence in the men had begun a slow steady crescendo
that would end, like before, in a brutal and bloody bonfire of slaughter.  They'd watched
the men snort up rows of cocaine from a plate Matt had gotten from the kitchen.  The
killers had a stash of the drug in their truck, which they'd left parked up the access road,
and Ward had gone to get some, returning with the cocaine and with a small packet of
amphetamines, which the men had guzzled down with what was left of the tea Kyla had
made earlier.
	Now the men were dangerously fired up, beating the two naked teen redheads
with serious intent after having raped and sodomized them for nearly an hour
	"Hey," Thad called out pushing the tip of his wooden cane into Abigail's ankle,
pointing out the small butterfly tattoo. "Look at this shit."
	The other two men came around to see what he was pointing to.
	"Look at her fuckin' tattoo - whatta ya think about that -"
	"Yeah. We could slice it off her - freeze-dry the skin - nice souvenir."
	"Nooo!" Abigail keened.
	Thad swung the dowel with all his strength across the top of the butterfly which
was visible just above the opening in the wooden block through which the cheerleader's
slender leg passed.
	The sharp whapp made Abigail almost leap off her feet. Her body angled
in the direction of the blow as she screamed and Matt smashed his cane across
her flank, opposite the tattoed leg.  Ward sliced his whip across her asscheeks.
	"Fuck it. Its messed up now," Thad sneered, swinging again. "...worthless."
	All three men focused their rage on Abigail while Dora watched
sobbing, pleading with them. When Abigail started to teeter forward, Matt held her up,
gripping the bar her arms were bound to to steady her while he slashed his cane across
her nipples.
	Abigail screeched and Dora begged the men to spare her.
	Ward turned on her.
	"You want us to stop beating her? Huh? Is that what you want, cunt?!"
	Dora sobbed looking up at him.
	"Why, cunt? Do you love  your friend?"
	Something in the way he said the word love' - making it sound nasty and foul -
scared Dora and silenced her.
	"Is that it - you little Indian dyke scumbag - do you love' her like you love'
your other little friend?"
	Across the yard Alina's lips drew together and she turned her face against the
tree.
	Kyla heard her daughter whimper.
	Ward stood over Dora, glaring down at her fiercely.  Matt held Abigail up by
the bar to which her arms were bound but neither he nor Thad resumed the beating
of the taller girl.  They were amused and entertained by Ward's sudden rave.  Like
their leader on this kill, who had been monitoring phone conversations from the
Rodriguez house for the last six weeks, they knew about Dora and Alina's secret liaison.
	"Maybe we should bring your little friend out here too," Ward told Dora. 
"Whatta ya say, pig? Huh? Maybe we should take both of you down at the same time."
	"Alina?" Kyla whispered. Her daughter continued to push back against the
tree, head averted, eyes shut, lips drawn.  Isa looked up at her sister, puzzled.
	"Alina!" Kyla hissed.  Her suspicious ideas about Dora were suddenly making
sense.  It was in that word the killer had assailed Dora with - that gutter word,
unexpectedly appropriate - dyke'.
	Ward suddenly thrust the handle of his whip in Dora's mouth commanding the
wrist-bound kneeling teen to hold the weapon.  Then he turned to make his way to the
tree Kyla and her daughters shared.  Matt and Thad followed behind him with mounting
interest leaving Abigail tottering, straining to balance herself on her shackled feet.
	Kyla felt a chill move through her, her knees and her bound ankles trembling as
the three killers approached.  She could smell them.  They smelled of blood and death.
	Yvette, Carmen and Stella looked on in horror as Ward freed Alina from the
tree, pulling her away from Isabel, who squealed and tried to cling to her sibling.
Ward smacked the little girl in the face, knocking her back against the tree and choke-
holding her by her neck as he tied her to the trunk by her wrists while Kyla struggled
fruitlessly against her own ropes, unable to defend her daughters from the naked thugs.
	"Don't hurt them!"Kyla wailed. "Oh dear God don't hu -"
	Matt jammed the tip of the long wooden dowel with which he'd been beating
Abigail into Kyla's throat hard, staring at her cruelly.
	"Shut the fuck up, whore," he spat. "Or we'll kill all of you right this fuckin'
minute."
	Held in forced silence against the rough bark of the tree Kyla watched Thad
move in to take Isabel's chin in his hand and tilt her head up.
	"You and me are gonna have some fun later, sweetie," he said softly, leaning
down, his eyes slitted.  The child tried to pry herself from his grip but he held her
effortlessly for a few seconds, looking up at Kyla before letting the five year old go. 	As
the killer turned to make his way back toward the house Kyla watched  helplessly,
gasped for air until Matt finally took the rod from her neck and turned to follow Ward
and Thad back to poolside.
	Isa began to cry.
	"Shh," Kyla hissed.  "Shhh. Be quiet, honey.  Don't cry. It's gonna be ok,"
	"The bad men are gonna hurt Alina, mommy. They're gonna hurt Alina. Then -
then they - they - then - he - h-he -"
	Kyla could think of no words with which to comfort the five year old. She knew
Isa was right - the certainty of the child's fear was unavoidable.
	"Shh," Kyla intoned weakly, her voice choked, her throat still hurting from where
Matt had pushed the tip of his rod into her. "Mommy's here, baby. Mommy's here. Its's
gonna be ok. Its gonna be ok."

__________________________________


	Ward pulled Alina along by her arm leading her toward the pool and when he got
near Dora he spun the thirteen year old around and sent her crashing into the kneeling
redhead.
	Dora, Ward's whip still in her mouth, wrists roped behind her, fell sideways and
both girls sprawled on the bloody concrete.
	"Dirty little dykes!" Ward shouted standing over them.  His eyes were crazed,
furious.
	Ward spun around suddenly to shout at Kyla across the lawn.
	"Did you know, mom? Huh? Did you know your little baby was a stinking
worthless piece-of-shit DYKE!?"
	"Oh God," Yvette whispered, hanging her head -  Dora and her little sister -
How was it possible? And how did these monsters know?  How did they know
so much about all of them?
	"Is it true, Yvette?" Stella whispered.
	"I don't know," Yvette moaned. "I don't know." But she suspected the worst.
	"Goddamn Dora," Carmen hissed. "I hate her."
	"Its not her fault, Carmen," Stella said. "Its - its not her fault any of this is
happening."
	Carmen looked across the field with a sudden hopeless expression on her face.
	"I know," she whimpered. "I know."
	Ward bent down and grabbed Alina by her long black hair pulling her up on her
knees to drag her over to Abigail.
	"C'mere, you little scumbag," he snarled at the horror-stricken thirteen year old.
"You're gonna show everybody what Dora taught you."
	He knelt Alina in front of Abigail who stood uncertainly, ankles trapped in the
wooden block, arms strung apart on the bar that rested on her shoulders.
	"No!" Alina sobbed. "No! Please!" She looked from one man to the other
looking for mercy but finding none.
	"Get under there," Ward growled. " - yeah - that's right - Start eating cunt, you
little shit."
	"Yeahh!" Thad said.
	"Do it, you little fuck," Matt added. "I know you know how."
	Ward pushed Alina's face into Abigail's shaved pussy mound.  The redhead
staggered for balance, crying.  Alina's thighs bumped up against the wooden block that
trapped Abigail's ankles.
	"Stay up on your feet, pig," Ward told Abigail. "If you fall you die. Got it?"
	Abigail nodded hysterically.
	"Say: yes sir. I understand. Say it, you stupid cumbucket!"
	"Y-yes - yess sir - I - I uh - uh - understand."
	"Open yourself for her - you hear me?"
	"Y-yes s-sir."
	"Do you feel her tongue in you - answer me, pig - do you?!"
	"Mm-hmm - yes - yes -"
	"Better concentrate on that - cause everything else is gonna be pain."
	He turned to Dora who still lay on the ground, the whip in her mouth.
	"Bring me my fucking whip, you stupid dyke squaw."
	Dora struggled up on her knees to crawl to him.
	The men watched slowly stroking themselves as Alina lapped at Abigail's cunt like
a helpless kitten, her hands limp at her sides. They waited for Dora to deliver the whip
into Ward's hand and then they circled the standing redhead menacingly.
	"Let's beat this slut to a fuckin' pulp," Ward snarled.
	"You got it,"Matt replied.
	Thad merely grunted already raising his long cane.
	Kyla watched transfixed with horror and disgust, unable to turn away as Alina
moved her face against the standing girl's vagina - she felt shame and humiliation
for her daughter, for herself.  And she hated Dora for having brought this down
on Alina, even though in her heart she knew, as Stella had voiced, that there was no
blaming Dora for the sick violence the killers had wreaked on them.  Still illogically she
felt betrayed and deceived - Dora had been a guest in her house and she'd taken Alina
from her.  Because of Dora some greater measure of destruction was going to be meted
out on her innocent daughter.
	Abigail raised her pretty face at the fading sky and howled as the men began to
beat her.  Dora cringed away against the side of the pool burying her face against the
beveled edge of concrete, crying, her arms stiff and cold, her wrists hurting
from the leather cuffs which Matt had buckled tight enough to cut off circulation to her
hands.  Abigail's shrieks cut through Dora, through all the females, with devastating
force.  And the sound of the men shouting dehumanizing insults as their weapons
thrashed and slashed across the standing redhead were as cruel as the blows.  Alina
whimpered and moaned and squealed trying to keep her mouth on Abigail's slit as the
whipped girl bounced and jerked to the harsh beating.  Now and then the whip or the
canes would inadvertently catch Alina's back, or her shoulder, or her asscheeks and the
child would let out a shrill wail.
	"Fuckin' bitches," Matt snarled. "Fuckin' stinkin' little bitches."
	Repeatedly the canes and the whip struck Abigail's small titties and chest and
eventually both nipples bled down her belly.  Trickles of blood moved into her
neatly trimmed pubic patch and into Alina's mouth.
	"Keep eating her," Ward shouted. "Don't you fuckin' stop you little dyke shitt!"
	He whipped Abigail's hard little butt and the back of her thighs.
	Matt slashed at her belly and thighs.
	Thad at her tits.
	The injustice of it pleased them - the fact that in some perverse way Abigail, who
never even had a clue about what was happening, was now the focus of punishment for
Dora's and Alina's lesbian transgression.
	The men vented their unquenched rage on the redhead.
	Ward saw his mother in her.
	Thad and Matt saw nothing but suffering female meat - which the Black X cult
had trained them to destroy.
	Screaming little redhead pig, whipped while she gets cunt-licked, Matt thought
adding another pleasant' thought to his endless list.
	Thad, as he swatted the Abigail's bloody nipples thought about how nice it was
gonna be to take Kyla's youngest daughter upstairs later - in the house - to play with her
in the bathroom...just he and the little angel...he wanted to free Isa's long hair of that
braid and feel it all around his face...he wanted to get his hands on that small hairless
baby pussy and pry it wide open - to stuff it full.
	Abigail was getting ready to fall.
	"Hold er up!" Ward shouted at Alina. "Help her!"
	Alina gripped the redhead's legs leaning against her, sobbing as she pressed her
face up into Abigail's little cuntslit but now the blows fell harder and harder. What can
mom be thinking? the thirteen-year old wondered.  She knew Kyla would be furious
with Dora. She knew her mom would feel betrayed and deceived. But worst of all, Alina
was mortified to be naked, to be forced to do this nasty act in front of her own mother.
And yet what choice did she have? None. The killers had made that crystal clear.  There
was no hiding, no running away.  There was only obedience, suffering and death, a
vicious circle from which none of them would escape.  She tried to block it out - to
remember the field of wild yellow flowers but it was impossible.  All she saw was the
gleaming eyes of the killers as they circled beating the girl who stood over her.
	Ward whipped Abigail's face. A strand of his whip tore her left eye in half.
	She babbled as blood drenched her face and she staggered.
	Matt and Ward stabbed into Abigail's abdomen with the canes between strokes,
poked her hard, made her bend and twist, ruptured her intestines and made her shit
blood which ran down her flexing legs and on to Alina's hands.  They smacked her
outstretched arms and hands breaking her fingers.
	"Fuck it," Ward finally shouted tossing his whip aside, kicking Alina away and
grabbing Abigail by the throat to pull her toward the pool. He left her teetering right at
the edge, near the deep end while he went to the grill and retrieved a branding iron.
Before coming back to her he reassured himself that the video cameras were operating.
Through her good eye Abigail saw him move toward her and saw him raise the
smouldering X brand.  
	"Noooooo!" she screamed as the hot steel sizzled into the middle of her chest,
then again into her belly, then one last time into her left thigh. 
	 Ward stood for a moment stroking himself, watching the burn-pain travel through
Abigail then without a word he gave the bloody-faced redheaded teen a shove and
she lost her balance.  Unable to stand on her wood-block shackled legs she toppled
into the water on the deep end.  
	The killers who had watched the branding raptly now stood at the edge of the
pool masturbating as Abigail thrashed about and sank under the surface.  Tori and
Kathleen's bodies bobbed lifelessly near the struggling teen as the water rocked. 
	Abigail looked up as she drowned, the whipped eye squirting bloody bits into the
green fluid around her, her shackled limbs flexing pointlessly.  She could see the men
watching her intently and working themselves as her throat and lungs filled, as she
choked and suffocated, arms still bound, her broken hands wriggling, her bound feet
kicking.   
	"Nice," Thad whispered.  In a strange way, the blurred vision of the young beaten
girl underwater, was soothing to him - erotic and oddly soporific.
	Alina lay on the ground behind him, her face cradled in her arms as she sobbed,
her back and shoulders bruise-streaked from the straying blows that she'd caught during
Abigail's beating.  She could taste the redhead teen, the moist earthy taste of her on her
tongue, saltier, more pungent than Dora, the warm blood and faeces on her hands, and
she could hear the thrashing in the pool and knew Abigail was dying, drowning.  
	Dora lay just a few feet away. She had flinched to the sound the hot branding steel
had made on Abigail's skin and, like Alina, she too could now hear the mad splashing in
the pool beside her, the cold water spattering across her thighs as she huddled and
pressed her face to the cold concrete trying hopelessly to make it all go away. 
	Yvette, Carmen and Stella were crying and hanging their heads.  Abigail was
a nice girl, everybody's friend, always ready to help when help was needed.
The girls knew her father abused her and she'd shown up in school once
with a broken arm and another time with a black bruise on her cheek.   But her
father's cruelty now seemed insignificant by comparison.  Even in the depths of his
worst drunken violent stupor Charlie Caldwell would have been nauseated by
the destruction heaped upon his pretty daughter.
	Kyla tried to keep her composure comforting little Isa who now pissed herself in
terror. The child could not forget Thad's sinister promise, his weird eyes looking down
into hers, his cold hand gripping her chin.  She had seen Ward push Abigail
into the pool and she knew that the girl would not be able to swim or move.  Fear
consumed Isa - dark terror.  She was afraid of deep water, afraid of being unable to
move, of being trapped in the stifling green coldness.
	Abigail now twitched in the final death throes, inky dark blood jetting from
her asshole as her busted-up guts contracted.  Big silvery bubbles exploded from
her wide open lips and flaring nostrils and her body pulsed spastically as the men smiled
down on her.  She suddenly arched rising, her face breaking the surface, but as she
gasped for air Ward leaned down and thrust her back under with the end of the branding
iron which hissed as he pushed it into the the wet skin of her forehead.
	She cork-screwed over on her side, unable to stop the careening descent to the
bottom, arms bound and legs shackled, more silver bubbles exploding around her head
and from her asshole as she farted more blood and bits of intestine that fluttered toward
the surface.  With deep amusement the three killers continued to watch as the sky above
went slowly from orange to dark purple in glorious sunset coming as the X-branded
girl's struggles lessened.  She kicked out a couple of times, then her head craned at an
awkward angle as if she was trying to look at something on the pool wall, something
exceedingly important. Then a final lurching spasm ran through her and she sank slowly,
head first, in the deep end, under the other two X-marked victims, Tori and eye-less,
face-branded Kathleen who floated lifelessly above her.
	When Abigail finally went still, her yoke-hobbled legs no longer kicking, feet no
longer twitching, drowned teen laying on her belly, her angle of descent finally corrected
as she slid to the bottom of the pool,  arms stretched wide on the steel bar, hands limp, a
toppled crucifixion, Ward bluntly said: "I need a good piss."
	Matt and Thad watched Ward yank Dora up on her knees and then stride over to
Alina and pull the crying thirteen year old up on he feet.
	Bound to the tree a few yards away Kyla surged against the ropes which strangled
her and bit into her pregnant belly and into her ankles.
	"Don't hurt her!" she screamed at Ward wildly. "Don't you dare hurt my child!"
	Ignoring her, Ward turned to Dora.
	"Show mom how you do her baby," he said flatly.
	Dora stared at him wide-eyed.
	"Do it. Or I'll kill her right now."
	Dora looked at the thirteen year old who just stood there sobbing softly, her face
in her hands.
	Slowly, Dora moved on her knees toward Alina and slid down to push her face
half-heartedly into the child's pussy.
	"Now I know you can do better than that," Ward urged Dora, and to Alina:
"Spread your legs apart, you little slut, let her lick you. C'mon. Show us all how you
dirty little dykes do it."
	Both girls had little choice but to obey the blonde killer and as they did he stood a
couple of feet away and raised his massive cock in his free hand to piss right in Dora's
face and mouth and hair as she licked Alina's little slit.
	"Ahh, yeahh," he groaned in pleasure. "Mmm - that's just what the doctor
ordered - filthy little dyke scumbags..."
	As Ward's piss washed down Dora's tits, down her belly and thighs to puddle
around her knees Matt and Thad stepped up to let loose on the two girls.
	All three men urinated on their captives,  Matt focusing his piss-stream on
Alina, moving up her body and pulling her hands away from her face to splash
her cheeks and mouth and eyes, as Ward and Thad laughed and Kyla sobbed
and the other girls watched in horror and disgust.
	"Guess we all needed a good piss," Thad chuckled as he trained his own
stream on Dora's upturned face. He liked the way her hair now looked, piss-wet-
plastered against her forehead and face.
	"Its time to take this cunt down," Ward growled as he finished, wiping his
dripping prick on Dora's face. "Why don't you two get acquainted with sweet
babycakes.  I'm gonna take this redhead squaw apart."
	"You're the man," Thad replied pulling Alina by her arm toward the reclining
chair.
	With a sinking feeling, Dora watched Ward go to the barbecue grill.
	She knelt wide-eyed, numb hands cuffed behind her, covered with man piss and
paralyzed with fear.
	Her time to die was at hand.
	
__________________________________


	Kyla sobbed and turned away.  She couldn't bear to watch.
	Matt sat in the wooden reclining chair and pulled Alina toward him.
	With Thad's help Alina was lifted on to the chair on her back, legs wide.  Matt put
his cock to the thirteen year old's slit smiled and pushed heavily into her making her
scream as he broke through her hymen.
	"That's what a man feels like, you little dyke slut," Matt spat as he grabbed her
hips and began to fuck her. "Just so you know."
	Thad straddled Kyla's young daughter and slid down to push his cock into
her face.
	"Suck me," he ordered. "Take me in your mouth."
	Alina obeyed wordlessly, gagging on the killer's huge shaft as he sat on her chest
and grabbed her head in one hand.
	Both killers stuffed Kyla's thirteen year old daughter brutally as Ward grabbed
Dora by her long red hair and pushed the hot branding iron - the second iron, the first
one having been used up on Abigail a few moments earlier - into the kneeling redhead's
apple-sized titties, first the left then the right, pressing the steel into the nipples, pressing
hard, right into the core of the teenager's mammaries.
	Dora screamed wildly her big pretty mouth gaping.
	Ward could appreciate the traces of Indian ancestry in the girl's piss-wet face, the
slightly protruding bridge of her nose, her thick lips, her wide forehead, her
dark eyes and thick brows.  The red hair, which so riled him was inconsistent but
attractively so. The bitch was a natural redhead.  Her cunthair was the same shade
of red.  She was a stinking half-breed and he was going to enjoy killing her.
	Still holding her by her shoulder-length hair he put the branding iron on the
ground and unsheathed his knife.
	Dora saw the seven inch blade and bucked wildly.
	"No!" she shrieked. "No! No! No!"
	Her cries made Ward's cock throb and his balls swell.  He held the young bound
cheerleader tightly by her dark red mane relishing the horror in her face then
with a quick slicing motion he drew the killing blade across her throat.
	Her protests became gurgling gasps, blood jetted from the sliced aorta and from
her lips which opened and closed erratically as her eyes looked up at him.
	Quickly and with pounding thrusts he slammed his blade into her X-branded tits
and chest several times then he drew her face to him, lifting his cock over her
forehead.
	"Lick my balls," he ordered.
	She struggled between gasps and choked breaths to obey him as her hot
blood spurted on his thighs and ran down his legs.
	As her tongue lapped at his genitals he stabbed her five more times in the
shoulders and bound arms.  He cut off one burned nipple.  He yanked her head
back and stabbed her cheek then prying her mouth open he stuffed his cock
into it.
	"Suck," he snarled.
	Mindlessly she drew on the thick man meat as it sank into her blood-filled throat. 
She was starting to pass out, feeling faint and dizzy. Then she realized: this was it.  She
was going to die.  She tried to pull away.  He held her. Pulled his cock from her mouth. 
Rubbed it on her eyes.
	"Gagggg - wwhhh -" she intoned.
	She was staring upward, unseeing.
	Viciously he stabbed into her belly.
	Her legs kicked out from under her and as she fell he crouched over her straddling
her gut-stabbing her angrily over and over.  He moved down her body - stabbing -
stabbing - slamming his blade into her chunky thighs - slicing at her legs and feet - slicing
the big toe off her left foot - turning to slam the blade just below her sternum to rip it
down and eviscerate her.
	As they fucked Alina the men watched him urging him on with wild shouts.
	"Kill the fuckin' pig!"
	"Rip her guts out!"
	"Cut her in half!"
	Dora twitched and quivered under the mortal assault.
	Alina screamed and sobbed as Matt's cock gouged her little cunt and her tight
virgin anus alternately, coating the killer's prick and balls with her warm blood.  She
choked and gagged on Thad's big meat as he held her by her ears and throatfucked her. 
She knew, though she could not see it, that the other man was killing Dora.  It was
horrible beyond words. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for any of this and she
had emotionally reached her limit and gone beyond.  Intermittently, each time Thad
pulled his cock out of her mouth she screamed unrestrainedly for her momma,
regressing to the mental state of an infant, helpless, traumatized, broken with pain and
shame and terror.
	"Filthy stinking animal," Ward growled going on one knee, pushing his 
cock into the grisly wound that stretched from Dora's neck to her cunt.  He put down
his knife and grabbed both flaps of flesh on either side of the opening to rip the young
lesbian redhead open as he stuffed his prick into her spilling entrails.
	"Uhhhh!" he shouted, back arched as the orgasm moved through him.
	"UHHH! SHITT! YEAHHH!" he roared as his balls pumped hot jets of
manmilk into Dora's gouged belly-sac.
	The redhead twitched, vomited blood then lay motionless, eyes wide open
staring at the now darkening sky.  She saw horses, wild horses, stampeding across the 
blue-black clouds as final irrational bursts of bio-electrical energy pulsed in her neurons.
Kyla, she thought, Kyla I love you. Kyla I'm sorry about Alina. Kyla. Kyla. Kyla.  The
horses ran faster, eyes wild, the dust they kicked up swirled up all around her, dark
cosmic dust engulfing her, stifling her - Ky-la - I - love - you -
	Ward rose on his feet and moved up to empty himself on her dying face,
long streams of cum oozing from him and into her gaping bloody mouth and
glassy eyes.  He let his hatred of the young bitch consume him and transport him as
his balls contracted sending superheated bursts of jism up his fuckpole.  Each time he
killed, he killed his mother, and he liked to look into her eyes as the soul fled, free
forever from earthbound shame and pain where he could love her again - whore, bitch,
scumslut, cunt-animal, destroyed and devastated for his greedy pleasure - liberated -
glass-eyed murder-slut giving up her ghost...
	Watching Ward jerking himself off all over the dead cheerleader Matt felt his own
orgasm begin and he grabbed Alina's thighs to hilt himself in the thirteen year old's tight
asshole and empty himself deep in her guts.  He saw Thad's strong back flex and heard
the big man grunt and knew that he was cumming as well.  Thad could feel his
companion behind him thrust and slam into Kyla's hapless daughter and he heard Matt's
shouts of pleasure.
	"Little bitch," Thad growled looking down into Alina's horror-filled eyes, his cock
filling her lips, stretching her mouth to the limit.
	"Uhhh - uhhh - drink me - DRINK ME!"
	He grabbed Alina's head by her wavy black hair and held her as he pumped gob
after gob of hot jissom into her throat.  The child gagged, face flushed as she suffocated,
sperm pumped up through her nostrils, head tilting back as she tried impossibly to
swallow.
	Then Thad rose up off her to squeeze what was left out on her face and she
puked all over herself.
	Matt pulled out of her and shoved her off the chair and she rolled over and lay on
her back sobbing wretchedly, legs wide apart, bloody cum oozing from her violated
holes, jism and vomit spilling from her mouth.  He watched her, a sneer of disgust on his
lips.  He and Thad had used the little bitch well. They'd gone past all her physical and
psychological limits.  What was she, thirteen?  Old enough, as far as he was concerned.
Old enough to fuck. Old enough to hurt. Old enough to die. Too bad Ward's plans didn't
include offing the little piglet right away.  Yeah, too fuckin' bad because Matt wanted to
take out his gun and blow her fucking little head off - or maybe put the barrel up her
asshole and shoot her goddamn insides out.  Instead he crouched over her face, teeth
clenched with effort, arms resting on his knees as he farted long and loudly right in her
face.
	"Scumbag," he growled rising to his feet aiming his cock down at her pretty face
as he let his bladder go.  
	While Matt pissed all over Kyla's savagely raped thirteen year old daughter, all
over her tummy and chest and shoulders and face, the traumatized child laying at his feet
unresponsively, Ward and Thad took Dora's gutted body between them by the legs and
dragged it to the pool.  Her innards snaked out of her and dragged along the ground
under her ass linked to her gashed open belly by a thick dark brown cord of intestine.
Ward crouched down to uncuff her wrists. He saw a faint pulse of blood from her
slashed neck.  He realized she was still alive and he smiled as he stood and pushed the
cheerleader's body into the water with his foot. It went in face first with a muted splash
followed by an uncoiling mass of entrails.
	Abigail still lay at the bottom, the only one of the corpses heavily shackled, and
her three dead companions floated stiffly swollen about her, Dora's insides spilling out of
her as she floated face-down.
	Stampeding horses still ran through the synapses of Dora's dying brain, hundreds
of them fading - fading - and then a last shivering spark of terror, her eyes blinking
under the water - she saw her green pendant on the bottom of the pool shining through
the fog of blood streaming from her - she mouthed a final word as she floated -
	Ky-la.
	She was taking her secret love with her.
	Ward saw a flinching spasm run through the murdered redhead as she drifted
away from his side of the pool.  Her hands clenched into fists and then opened - released.
Then nothing.  Silence.  A twittering of birds from the nearby woods.
	"Four down - six to go," he said staring down at the dead bitches.
	"Is this one of the best fuckin' times we've ever had or what?" Thad asked
looking down on the results of their afternoon adventure. He was slowly stroking
his aching depleted prick, squeezing out the last drops of sperm into the pool.
	"Shit yeah," Ward said glancing at his companion. "You bet." And with a wink
he added: "But you know what?  The best part is still to come."
	Above them the sunset colors began a long slow fade-out.



7.
	And Ward was right. The best of it was still ahead.
	The killers manhandled the remaining females into the house and set up the
cameras in the living room.
	Boosting themselves with more cocaine and more amphetamines they were at the
peak of their destructive power.
	While the victims waited on their knees, arms bound behind them, the killers made
holes in the ceiling support beams  of the spacious room with a power drill and screwed
eyelet hooks, five of them from which, after they'd moved the couch and chairs, they
hung Kyla, her daughter Yvette, Stella, Carmen, and Alina, separately, by cuffed wrists,
up on their toes, their ankles cuffed as well.
	Thad, carried little Isa kicking and screaming upstairs to the master bedroom while
Kyla sobbed and pleaded in vain that the child be spared. 
	"Fuck you, mom," Thad had told Kyla as he'd made his way up the stairs. "The
little bitch's mine now."
	Above them the bedroom door slammed shut.
	Kyla, Yvette and the others wept.
	Alina now was silent, in a trance, after her ordeal by the pool.  She hung inertly
from the ceiling looking down at the carpet, manpiss dripping down her body.
	Matt and Ward began by using  cattle prods on the suspended females, the killers
amusing themselves with the frenzied screams and howls of their victims, running the tip
of the prod up and down their legs, their arms and their sides.
	The men were cruel with Kyla who pleaded with them telling them that the 
shocks might kill her baby.
	"Tell somebody who gives a shit," Matt snarled pushing the tip of his prod right
into her fat belly making her kick her bound feet and yank on her wrists and shriek. 
Ward meanwhile brought his prod up against her shoulderblades and between them they
slowly shock-tortured the pregnant cow.
	They moved to Yvette whose slender body seemed to explode into graceful
frenetic movement with each discharge of the prods.
	Sparks ran all over Alina's pisswet skin and hair making the vacant eyed thirteen
year old flinch and jerk spastically.
	Each victim responded differently, each was a study in female suffering, their
reactions to the pain unpredictable and incredibly appealing to the heartless
sadists.
	The killers thoroughly enjoyed pushing the cattle prods into Stella Dalwell's and 
Carmen Garcia's big full adult-sized jugs, right into their nipples, white girl and
dark latina exhibiting contrasting articulations to the sizzling torment.  They
even got Carmen to babble in Spanish, laughing at her while they touched the
prods to her cunt-mound and belly, returning again and again to her brown
nippled orbs.
	Aroused by this foreplay Matt and Ward were ready to begin the next phase of
the cruel take-down.  For the moment they put down their cattle prods and took
Yvette, pale skinned, honey blonde short hair, Kyla's oldest, releasing her from the
suspended bondage, pushing her to the couch, making her kneel on the deep cushion,
Matt behind her putting his cock to her pink cunt, Ward coming around the couch, his
back against the wall, to feed her his own demanding erection.
	"Hey mom," Ward called to Kyla. "Don't fuckin' turn away.  I want you to
watch what we do to your little cheerleader angel. You hear me? Look at me! If you
turn away again I'll cut her pretty little head off, you got it?"
	By this time Kyla's deeper traumatization was well under way.  This was the most
brutal thing - to be forced to watch, for the second time, her own child's rape, this time
up close, Kyla's body still quivering from the attack of the cattle prods, her mind reeling
from the horrific events of the afternoon.  And then there was the unspeakable horror of
what might be transcurring where she couldn't see and didn't know - upstairs - Thad
and Isa... She didn't know what was worse.  Knowing or not knowing.  Seeing or not
seeing.
	All she was sure of  now was that there would be no way out.
	The killers understood this. They had planned to have just such an effect on all the
females but especially on Kyla. They needed her suffering deeply and drank from it like
thirsty lions gathering power and strength and joy from the destruction of the beautiful
pregnant female.
	"Ahh," Matt groaned as he slid slowly into Yvette's soft warm pussy-slit.
	The girl sobbed loudly.
	"She's tight, mom," he called out. "I mean - I don't think she's a virgin - but
she's real fuckin' tight."
	"Yeahh," Ward responded looking down at Yvette as she put her lips around his
cock. "Mmmm - but I bet baby upstairs is a lot fuckin' tighter."
	Matt laughed as Kyla hung her head and wept.
	"Yeahh!" Matt said. "A lot fucking tighter."	
	
__________________________________


	Thad was ready for his one-on-one. He entered the master bedroom and kicked
the door shut behind him; he strode across the room, and tossed Isabel on the bed. The
nude five year old crawled up against the brass headboard, cringing away from the killer
who stood leering down at his young terrified prey, hands on his hips.
	Isa shook with spastic sobs.  The experience of being carried in his powerful
arms had been horrifying.  He was so strong. He was a giant capable of breaking her
like a plastic doll.  He had pressed her against his muscular sweat-glossed chest
and the smell of him had smothered her.  She saw him sit on the side of the bed
now, the knife-sheath on the broad leather strap around his waist, the single-tail whip and
the gun holster riding up on her momma's tan quilt.
	"Muuhhmmaa," Isa wailed as she hugged the pillows. "Muhhmmaaa!" They
smelled of mommy and daddy and they erased the bad man's smell from her mind, the
bad man who had come to her outside and told her that he and she were gonna have
some fun. She didn't know what he meant she only knew mommy hadn't been able to
stop him from bringing her upstairs and now - now she was alone with him.    She
buried her face between the pillows trying to mentally blot out his presence.  In her
child's mind she thought if she couldn't see him then he would cease to exist, he would
just disappear.
	"C'mere, babygirl," Thad said softly.  His hand reached up as he half turned to
take Isabel by her small ankle, his fingers closing around the frail limb as he tugged her
toward him. 
	"Nnaaaaa!" she bawled, her cry muffled.  She held on to one of the pillows
pressing her face into it so that all Thad could see was her long braid of chestnut
brown hair as he pulled her down the length of the soft bed toward him leaving the quilt
and the other pillows in a scattered disarray.  He knew she was clinging to
unreality - trying to escape him.
	"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he said in the same soft voice,
chillingly seductive, terrifying for the child who had watched him brutally
punish and murder the other girls by the pool that afternoon.  Her legs brushed
against him and she made another hysterical sound clutching the pillow to her
face even tighter.
	Then he was pulling the pillow away, tugging at it.
	"Let it go," he told her.  His voice was low and threatening. Still, she clung.  	"Let
it go, Isabel."
	The monster's voice demanded obedience. There was no hiding from it.
	Isa finally relented and he pulled the pillow from her and tossed it off the bed.
	"Climb on top of me," he ordered. "Face me. Sit on my lap."
	She rose up on her knees reticently, avoiding his eyes as he took her by her left
wrist, still indented, both of the child's wrists red and scraped from the ropes that had
held her to the tree outside, and helped her straddle his massive thighs.  The contact with
her soft silky skin aroused him powerfully and his massive cock rose up against the
child's buttocks behind her as he pulled her against his belly.
	She hung her head submissively as he began to undo the braid in her hair.  Her
hair was still slightly moist.
	"I'm gonna fuck you, babygirl," he told her, leaning down to whisper the words
into her ear.
	"Noooo -" she whimpered, her little hands cupping her face.
	"Put your hands down. Put them down now."
	She didn't know what that word meant, fuck'. She'd heard daddy say it once
when he was mad.  She'd heard Yvette and Alina say it when momma wasn't around.
It was something bad, nasty. Something cruel.
	Gradually pulling Isabel's long wavy hair loose Thad ran his fingers through it.
It was silky and soft, slightly wet, still smelling of chlorine from the pool.  He rubbed it
on his cheeks and on his arms and shoulders closing his eyes to shut out all other sensory
input but the feel of the young girl's hair against his skin and the weight of her on his
thighs and her warm breath on his chest.
	She was only five years old, he thought excitedly. Still an infant. A toddler.
	"Oh yeah, babygirl," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm gonna fuck you and beat you
and hurt you - mmmm - real bad."
	"Nooo!" she protested. "Don't hurt Isa!"
	He smiled and opened his eyes to look at her.
	She kept her head down as he caressed her hair.
	Her skin was so soft and white, almost translucent.  She was a little baby angel and
he was gonna tear her fucking little wings and halo off her for good.
	"Look at me," he ordered curtly taking her by her shoulders.
	She tilted her head up and her brown teary eyes stared into his. He read the
innocent terror there and relished it.
	Ohh yes, he thought to himself. Yes. Yes. Yes.
	This is just what I need.
	"I own you now, babygirl. Not your mom or your dad. Me. I am your owner.
You're my pet. My little puppydog."
	"I'm not a dog," she sobbed.
	"You are whatever I fucking SAY you are," he growled gripping her tightly
watching her face twist in a grimace of fear.
	"First things first, babygirl. I'm gonna teach you how to kiss. You can't fuck
unless you know how to kiss first."
	His hands moved up to the sides of  her face to grip her small head.
	She was so fragile, so tender.
	He brought her to him slightly lifting her off his thighs, her little hands on his
arms.  When she was less than an inch away she shut her eyes. She trembled
and her legs clenched together against him, her feet wriggling down by his
knees.  Gently he pressed his lips against hers.  She was soft. So incredibly soft. Her
mouth pliable, smooth, warm, her breath moist and rapid against his upper lip, like a little
rabbitt's.  Her hands squeezed his arms.
	"Gmmmmmm!" she protested.
	He pulled back to look at her.
	"Whassamatter, babygirl? Don't you like it?"
	Her eyes dribbled tears down her cheeks and her brows arched sorrowfully.
	"No."
	"Too fuckin' bad," he smiled and pulled her to him again, harder this time.
	"Gg! Gg! Gg!" she whined, her fingers pinching at him.
	One of his hands moved up to clutch her hair the other one down to grip her
small slender throat, squeezing gently.
	He rubbed his lips on hers, smeared them, kissed and nibbled her cheeks and
licked into her eyehollows, his spit oozing down and mixing with her salty tears. He
squeezed her throat tighter until she opened her mouth slightly and he pushed
his fat tongue into her mouth.
	"Gwwhh! Wuggg!!" she squealed with disgust, squirming in his forceful grip.
	He felt a rush of power thunder through him as he tasted her and felt her
little tongue recoiling from his. He explored her little teeth and gums with the
tip of his tongue, her warm drool trickling on to his lips and stubbly chin and
he opened his eyes to look at her up close, his cock booming like a sliver of hot
steel against the child's butt.
	God her skin was so flawless!
	Yes, babygirl, yes.
	He squeezed her neck harder and thrust his tongue deeper gagging her then
he moved his mouth up the side of her face nibbling at her and finally biting her
dark little eyebrow drawing a pitiful cry which he choked to silence.  He pulled back to
look at the severely terrified child as she trembled and quivered against him.
He needed to feel that little mouth all over him - on his legs and feet - on his arms
and hands - and most of all on his cock.  His hands moved down to her shoulders.
He felt her small bones under the skin as fragile and breakable as porcelain.  His
hands moved down the sobbing child's back to cup her buttcheeks.
	"Now you kiss me," he told her as he squeezed her chubby little ass.
	She looked up at her tormentor, dazed, lost.
	"Kiss me, bitch," he repeated bluntly.
	With a low whining moan in her throat she leaned forward and planted her lips
gently on his, her eyes closed.
	"Stick your tongue in my mouth," he told her as she started to pull away.
	She hesitated only briefly as his hands squeezed her asscheeks hard, the tips of his
fingers brushing against her hairless sexslit.  Then she leaned forward again obediently
and he opened his mouth for her.  Her small tongue flickered over his lips and then his
teeth to find his own tepid meaty tongue waiting in ambush. One of his hands moved
back up to her skull to press her face against his as he french-kissed the five year old
brutally making her wiggle and squeal.
	He yanked her head back by her hair.
	"Open your mouth wide, stupid," he snarled. "And keep it that way."
	Then, as she complied, he hocked and spit in the child's open lips enjoying her
wide-eyed surprised as she gagged, flinched and tried to spew out his phlegm.
	He tugged on her hair hard.
	"No! Don't you spill any of it. Swallow my fuckin' spit, you little fuck!"
	He watched her obey, her cheeks bright red as she gagged, and gasped, finally
drawing down his thick spittle.
	"Good girl - yeah - that's right - very good - that won't be all you'll be
swallowing tonight, babyface - mmmm - no - there'll be lots more for you to
take down your little throat.  Lots and lots. Now get the fuck off me and 
kneel on the floor - that's right - right there on the carpet in front of me - right
there - and don't you fuckin' move until I say so. Got it?"
	She nodded and hung her head again shaking as she sank to her knees sobbing
mutedly.
	He got to his feet and towered over her, reaching down to slow stroke his
demanding cock.  
	The child was so small, so - insignificant.
	He looked around the room as the waves of sadistic pleasure moved through him,
his balls swelling.   This was mom and dad's bedroom, spacious and elegantly furnished. 
He owned it too, just like the child.  It was his for the moment, the labor of the father,
the neatness of the wife, the sense of shelter and safety in this quiet retreat...and their
child, the physical manifestation of their union. He'd taken it all from them.  Robbed
them. And that made him feel godlike.
	It must have felt nice to have been the Rodriguez man, proud of his achievment,
father of the household and all that good shit.  Nothing like that had ever been in the
cards for Thad.  He'd grown up in an orphanage outside Baltimore near a grimy
industrial area.  Life had not granted him anything else but meanness, treachery and
violence.  He'd learned all those lessons well and he'd joined up with the Black X when
he was only seventeen.  He hated women. He hated them fiercely.  Women - catholic
nuns - had run the orphanage and he'd been the butt end of their cruelty.  For the rest of
his life they would be the butt end of his.  He especially hated little girls, like Isa. Sweet
little bunnies who had been brought up in warmth and comfort and wealth. They
deserved nothing but the worst he could muster, the sickest most evil violence in him.
	The walk-in closet across the room was open and he could see the rows of
clothing, men's on one side, woman's on the other.  On the bottom neat rows of shoes
lined up along the wall. There was an entertainment center on the wall opposite the foot
of the bed, with a large screen television and an expensive stereo with surround-sound
speakers, a dresser and mirror on the wall parallel to the bed and a bookshelf and
magazine rack on the opposing wall.  There was a large window over the bed behind
gauzy drapes and another window near the dresser which looked down on the pool area.  
	Thad walked to that window still stroking himself and he looked down.  The
dead cheerleaders floating there were now surrounded by shadows.  Only the light
coming from the kitchen below illuminated the pool area.  Whatever other lights might
have otherwise lit up the scene were turned off and it was impossible to see the blood in
the water or, for that matter, the wounds on the floating bodies. In fact, it wasn't even
easy to distinguish the shapes in the water as human. They were still, bobbing gently on
the surface. Abigail who had drowned and sank to the bottom now incredibly floated on
the surface with her three friends face down, stiffly bound and shackled, a floating black
X on the water. Thad stroked himself a bit faster remembering the rape-kills that had
filled the afternoon. So much violence had flared within him, within the others as well.
He liked that. He liked letting it all out, the rage, the need.  And now they looked so
peaceful down there.  So calm and serene - defeated - life snatched, torn from them.
	He turned to look again at Isa as she knelt waiting for his orders still softly sobbing
and staring at the carpet.
	Beyond her, on the other side of the room another door opened into the master
bathroom.
	The light was on and he could see the marble floor gleaming.
	He and little Isa were gonna have lots of fun in there.
	He wondered how Matt and Ward were doing.  Though this bedroom appeared to
be nearly soundproof he could hear scuffling and cries downstairs but very faintly. 
	He was glad Ward had granted him his one-on-one with the five year old and,
though it would have been fun to share in the destruction of the other teens and the
pregnant woman, he deeply preferred the child.  Anyway, he was sure his companions
didn't need him to enjoy themselves.  One less mouth at the banquet table meant more
meat for them.
	Now, it was time to teach the child all the lessons life had prepared him to teach.
	He cracked his knuckles and strode back slowly toward her.


__________________________________


	Ward lifted and held Yvette's face by her chin as Matt pounded into the teenager
from behind bouncing her on the couch and rocking her back and forth.  Sharply, Ward
slapped the young girl for the twentieth time.  Her bruised, bloodied, tear-soaked face
swung to the right and she let out a small helpless yelp.
	Ward smiled and again reached down, raised her face by her chin and as she
looked up at him, eyes half-shut, blood dribbling from her lips, he waited, his cock
throbbing with anticipation.  He gave out a mean snarl and swung his open palm across
the blonde teenager's cheek.
	The killer waited a few moments, slow-stroked himself, watched Matt piston in and
out of the kneeling cheerleader and then he reached down to lift Yvette's face up once
more.
	"You're going to kill her!" Kyla sobbed. 
	"That's the idea, cunt," he grunted.
	Matt chuckled and slammed deep into Yvette Rodriguez's hot tight twat.
	Ward's hand now backswung across the cheerleader's face giving her hard
knuckles this time.  Her head arced to the left and her blood and spit spattered the top of
the couch back. Then before her head could topple he yanked her up by her hair,
pinched her nose between his thumb and forefinger and pushed his cock into her
bleeding mouth.
	"Suck me, you worthless piece of shit," Ward growled down at her slowly
fucking the beaten blonde's face. Then raising his head: "Fuck er up the ass, Matt. Lets
break er!"
	The other females dangled by their wrists from the living room ceiling forced
to watch Yvette's savage take-down.  Kyla, Carmen and Stella sobbing hysterically and
pleading with the killers for mercy, Alina catatonic and motionless.
	Matt slid slowly out of Yvette's slick pussy as it clenched and unclenched around
his shaft.  When he had squeezed out he pressed his cockhead to the pink pucker
between her smooth asscheeks.  He was pretty sure the young girl had never been
fucked anally and he licked his fingers and began to push them into her asshole one
at a time to prepare the way saving his fat thumb for last.  As he pressed that digit
into her she gave out a mournful cry and her hips bucked.  Ward reached down
to grab Yvette's wrists and pull her up against the back of the couch, to hold her
up.  Slowly Matt pushed his thumb all the way in to the joint in the girl's ass, her
whining groan of pain stifled by Ward's ten inch meat.   
	Matt yanked his thumb out hard, purposefully making it hurt and as Yvette
arched her back he slid his cock into the ringed aperture left behind by his finger.
	"Annhhhh fuckkk!" he grunted. "So ffuckking tighttt!"
	"Do it," Ward urged. "Give it to er! Stuff your prick up in there!"
	Matt's fingers dug deep into Yvette's midriff above her hips and he virtually
pounded his manmeat into her, a bit at a time, while Ward choke-fucked the
beaten teen.  They fucked her between them savagely giving free rein to the
demanding instincts that drove them.  Yvette sputtered and squealed, tried weakly to pull
her wrists from Ward's tight grip.  The lack of oxygen was making her dizzy
and her eyes when they weren't shut tight were rolling back in her head.
	Save for Yvette's sister, Alina, who had been traumatized by the gruesome killings
as well as by her own crude rape by the pool earlier, the other females were screaming
stammered protests of mercy which only fed the primal violence of the agressors.
	Matt was soon hilted in Yvette's tight rectum, his fuckpole greased by her
blood, and Ward was lost in the blissful delight of her vibrating throat clinging
to the head of his huge prick.
	"I wanna put the cattle prod in er -" Matt told his comrade as Yvette's
anal muscles clenched delightfully all around his shaft, a hot slimy glove of
girlmeat. " - all the way up er."
	"Go for it," Ward snarled. "Fry her fuckin' guts!"
	"Oh dear Goddd," Kyla screamed. "No! No! Don't do it! Don't hurt my little
girl!"
	Ignoring her, Matt withdrew his shit-and-blood smeared cock from Yvette's
ruptured anus, went to the boxes of devices they'd brought in the house and which were
now atop the dining room table, and took one of the long punishment rods they'd used
on the females earlier in one hand.  He reached into one box with his free hand and
brought out four huge black ball gags with leather buckle-straps.
	"I'm gonna gag these other bitches up, Ward. Can't fuckin' think straight with all
their carrying on."
	Ward pulled his cock from Yvette's mouth and let her gasp for air while he
rubbed it in her eyes and on her forehead pressing his balls into her nose.
	"No problem," Ward said, his voice slurred with the pleasure Yvette was
providing him. "I think a big ball gag improves a slut's looks anyway.  Women should
walk around with big fuckin' gags in their mouths all the time. That would suit me fine.
It works their jaw - kinda prepares the way for facefucking, you know? Makes it easier
to choke-fuck them.You probably won't have to worry much about Alina though -" He
smiled up at Kyla as he said it. " - We may have put her over the line a bit.  Guess she
don't have much left to say one way or another."
	Matt put his cattle prod down on the living room center-table and proceeded
to gag each female shoving the large rubber spheres into their lips as they groaned,
grunted and swung their heads from side to side trying to avoid him.  Their cuffed hands
wriggled above their heads as Matt gripped their heads, forced the ball past their teeth
and buckled it tightly behind their necks. When he was done with Carmen he slapped her
big tits then punched her in the stomach.  With Stella he pinched and twisted both
nipples then yanked a tuft of hair from her pussy mound.  Both teens wailed and shook
in their helpless suspension.  Alina showed no response as he gagged her but only
drooled as he slipped the ball-gag into her mouth. He sank his teeth into the thirteen-year
old's arm hard but all she did was make an odd gurgling noise in her throat.  Kyla
continued to plead with the killers as she watched Matt move from victim to victim. She
begged and begged and was still trying to talk when he stuffed the ball in her beautiful
mouth, her words unitelligibly blurred and muffled.  He smiled at the suspended pregnant
woman, leaned down and sucked her fat nipple into her mouth to draw milk from her as
Thad had done earlier.
	"Mmmm - yeahh, bitch -" he commented. "That's real tasty -"
	He reached down and grabbed her mons hard to squeeze it unmercifully.
	She was still pleading - less forcefully as he gazed at her levelly - suddenly silent as
she saw the limitless emptiness in his dark eyes.
	"There'll be no mercy here tonight," he told her. "None. So stop asking for it."
	Kyla hung her head, brow knitted with pain.  She saw trickles of milk running
down her big belly.  She could not see over the edge of her swollen abdomen but she felt
Matt's blunt fingers pushing into her sexslit between her thighs. 
	"Nnhhh! Nghh!" she protested shaking her head. 
	He pushed his middle finger deep into her and she quivered.  More milk spurted
involuntarily from her nipples.  He leaned down, licked at her, his mouth smeared with
the creamy froth staring up at her, his eyes dark and threatening.  She believed
him completely. There was no mercy in those eyes.  Only animal hunger.  Sick lust.
Depravity.  He licked her belly, nibbled at it, still smiling that horrendous smile. 
	"If you only knew, little momma," he whispered. "If you only knew what we plan
to do with you..."
	His words sent her spiraling into deeper terror. That look on his face. That sick
barbaric look.  He's enjoying himself, Kyla thought.  He's having the time of his life. 
	To end it he punched her right in the cunt, a quick in-jab of his fist that winded her
made her shut her eyes tightly and sent fiery pain through her pregnant belly, the fetus
twisting and kicking wildly inside her.
	Then turning, leaving Kyla swinging like a pendulum, he walked back toward the
couch, picked up the cattle prod from  the center table and approached Yvette who now
mewled and cringed.  Ward still held Kyla's first-born against the couch-back by her
wrists. He had pushed the couch away from the wall and it angled into the room
obliquely. Releasing one of  her hands he took the single-tail whip which dangled from
the leather utility belt around his waist and quickly wrapped it around her neck twice.
	"Stay right there, pig," he ordered. "On your fucking knees -" He tugged hard
on the whip as he released Yvette's other hand pulling her up against the back of the
couch.  She flung her arms over the top of the couch looking up at Ward as Matt
stepped up behind her.
	Matt tapped the prod against the inside of her thighs which she had
clenched tightly together.
	"Spread em wide!" he shouted.
	"Naaaaaiiiee!" she screeched trying to look back over her shoulder, half-perched
up on the couch, as Matt pressed the trigger-switch discharging the prod on her sweaty
leg-flesh.
	Quickly she obeyed sinking down into the soft couch deeper as she drew
her knees apart, her feet propped up on the edges of the seat-pillows.
	Matt spat on the tip of the cattle prod and put it to her bleeding sphincter.
	"Hold er tight," he warned Ward, and he thrust the prod into the cheerleader's
raped anus, pushing it into her as she squirmed, her fingers tugging fruitlessly at the
whipcord around her neck.
	Short breathless cries of pain continued to pour from Yvette as the prod was
pushed deeper and deeper.
	"No - please - no -" she blurted repeatedly between cries.
	" - please - no - please - no - no - no - no -"
	Ward stared down at her enjoying her suffering.
	Bitch knows what's comin', he thought. She knows. He wondered if Matt had
forgotten to gag her or if he'd left her that way on purpose so they could hear her
scream.
	Licking his lips with anticipation Matt depressed the switch shooting fiery voltage
into Yvette's innards.
	"Yyeeeeeeiiiii!" the luckless teen shrieked at the top of her lungs, her face a
distorted grimace.
	"Fuck yeah!" Ward shouted. "Fuck yeah. YEAH!"
	Still holding down the button Matt slid the prod back and forth, in and out, raping
the wildly screaming blonde with it.  He stroked his own cock with quick hard pumping
motions as he watched Yvette's tormented writhing, the spirited young  bitch making the
couch bounce, its legs rattling against the tile floor.
	Screaming cheerleader with a cattle prod up her ass, he thought to himself
smirking.
	Her cries intensified his gluttonous sadism. Remembering the way she'd led the
cheerleading that afternoon he was glad Ward hadn't gagged her. He loved the sound of
her girlish voice now screechy and hoarse responding to the brutal torture he was
imposing on her. It was nice that the Rodriguez house was so isolated.  They would be
able to work on the girls without undue concern for nosy neighbors just as Ward had
said.
	After nearly ten minutes of unceasing agony Yvette began to pass out, her head
tumbling forward.
	Matt yanked the prod out of her and set it down on the center table.
	"Let's fuck the shit out of er!" he spat.
	Ward pulled her by her bound neck off the couch and to the floor. He lay down
on the cool tiles and pulled her on to him, forcing her to straddle his erection facing his
feet.  Matt knelt in front of her and raised her legs as Ward's cock slid deep into
her bleeding spark-burned asshole then he put his cock to her sweet little cunthole and
entered her.  Matt deeply enjoyed double fucking.  He loved the feeling of another
man's prick on the other side of the fleshy membrane between the cuntal and anal
passages.  He loved to feel that he was stuffing a victim to the limit, that she was
being jammed and plundered.  And with this young innocent victim his pleasure
was even deeper and more complete.  He unwrapped the single-tail whip from around
her throat, tossed it aside and put his steely fingers around her slender neck to strangle
her barehanded while he and Ward fucked her brutally and unmercifully.
	"Stinking little fuck," he snarled at her.
	He hated her so completely, so devastatingly.
	Matt's fury inspired Ward to thrust himself up into Yvette's raped asshole with
all he could muster.
	After a while Matt choked her with one hand and belly-punched her with the 
other.
	"That's it," Ward snarled. "Give it to er, Matt. Give er what she deserves. Show
the bitch who's in charge here!"


__________________________________


	In the bedroom upstairs Thad stood with his legs apart as Isabel gently licked his
feet.
	The child's small warm tongue flicked over his hairy ankles all the way down to
the toes, between each toe, her sobbed breath moist, her hair ticklish, strands of it slicked
with her spit sticking to her cheeks.   She followed his directions, just like the servile little
pup he was forcing her to be, moving around him on hands and knees to lick his heels
and talus bones, to lick up and down the  achilles tendon and gradually up his calves and
shins to his knees and kneehollows, her little hands on his ankles as she leaned into the
task.
	"That's right, babygirl -" he told her. "Nice - real nice - show me how much you
love me - mmm - lick me like a candy-cane - ahhh - yeahh - just like a candy-cane  -"
	He loomed over her, left hand at his side curled into a fist, the other slow-stroking
his engorged sex.  He was fully erect, all ten inches of him swollen and hot, his
balls tingling as he worked the tip of his cock between thumb and forefinger with 
patient indulgence.
	As Isa's mouth pleasured him he slowly pondered each step he would take to
destroy the little bitch.
	An unexperienced male at this stage of arousal would have quickly raped and
murdered the small victim in a hasty rush to satisfy the demonic impulses raging inside,
the insistent instinct to release the fevered need for ejaculation.  But, like all Black
X cult soldiers, Thad had undergone several weeks and months of training and
guidance under Trevor's strict supervision on Black Island.
	He remembered his first sloppy kill, a dark-haired whore named Dania.
	She was one of twenty callgirls Trevor had lured to the Island for the annual
festivities that year, unsuspecting victims all, some of which would be used to train new
cult members like Thad.
	Now, as little Isabel Rodriguez's tiny tongue grazed his muscular thighs
Thad let his mind slip back to that first incredible day on Black Island, he and
Trevor in one of the cellar torture rooms beneath the chateau -


	- Dania was on her knees and Trevor stood over her, his black terrycloth robe half
open, his long thick cock fully erect, the curled bullwhip dangling from his hand.  She
had been wearing a short black mini-dress, black stockings and stiletto heels when they'd
come into the room, Trevor leading her by a leash around her collared neck.  The cunt-
killing cult leader had hung her by cuffed wrists from an overhead chain, stepped back,
and laid into her, flogging her methodically, while Thad had watched, a seventeen year
old boy, hormones raging madly, his violent hatred of females pounding in his head as
he'd stripped naked and jerked off.  Trevor was an artist with the flailing lash and the
beating of the bound whore had been a masterful performance. When Trevor was done
with her the young slut's dress clung to her in bloody tatters, stockings torn, one shoe
off.  Then the Black X cult leader had gone to her and released her from the suspension
and she sank to her knees.
	Trevor had yanked the sobbing slut's head back by the hair to show her whorish
painted face to Thad, dark lines of dark splotchy teary mascara runing down her cheeks.
	"What do you want to do with this piece of shit, boy?"
	Dania was terrified and weeping.  She'd been paid well to come to the Island but
now she was afraid she'd gotten herself into something way over her head. Dark welt-
streaks from Trevor's whipping marred her soft white skin, showing through ripped
gashes in the flimsy fabric of her flirtatious little dress.
	Thad had not hesitated to answer.
	"Kill her. Rip her fucking guts out."
	The whore gasped in response to his blunt words.
	"Follow your instincts," Trevor told him cooly pushing the woman away so that
she ended up sitting on the floor in her tattered clothes between them, her legs splayed
under her, one high-heel on, the other one off, lying beside her like a capsized toy boat.
	She looked hopelessly from one man to the other.
	"You'll find whatever you need in those cabinets," the cult leader said indicating
a row of metal doors in the wall on one side of the room.
	There were hundreds of instruments of torture but the first thing that caught
Thad's inexperienced eye was the long, black-handled butcher knife.
	He took it and moved toward Dania. 
	She gave out a strangled cry and crawled away from him.
	Thad had looked at Trevor nervously.
	"Go ahead, boy. You're not the first one to choose that weapon. Follow your
instincts."
	"I've never -"
	" - never killed anyone?" Trevor smiled.  "Of course not. But you want to don't
you?"
	"Shit, yeah."
	"You've thought about it, haven't you? Killing women. Killing trash like her."
	"Yes. I've wanted to - really wanted to."
	"Well don't let me stop you.  I'm not the church or the government, boy. I'm
on your side.  I'm on the side of the male justice."
	"You can't do this!" the woman shrieked as  Thad turned and walked toward her
blade in hand.
	"Why not, bitch?" Trevor countered, turning to watch as Thad stalked the
whore forcing her into a corner.
	"Because its a sin to kill? Because its against the law?  That's all society's
bullshit!" Trevor barked.  "Men need to kill.  It is in our blood.  We evolved from
apes that killed and we need you to satisfy our inbred impulses.  Men need to kill
women - savagely and without excuse. The instinct to kill you is just the instinct to fuck
you taken to its most extreme conclusion."
	Trevor's twisted logic rooted itself in Thad's mind as he closed in on Dania.  	
	Her wrists were still cuffed together and as she backed against the wall she raised
her arms over her head, a feral panicked look on her face framed between her
upstretched limbs, her long fingernails clawing at the concrete wall.
	"You're crazy," she snarled. "Both of you!"
	But Thad didn't think Trevor was crazy at all. There was a quiet logic to his
words.  He knew that beneath the surface of the acceptable impulse to have sex with a
woman ugly things lurked - things no one wanted to talk about openly but which he felt
inside himself - violent, terrible things.
	The room was lit by overhead fluorescent panels.
	"Crazy?"Trevor responded. "No crazier than you, pig. Opening your cunt to
strangers for money. Coming to my island without knowing who the fuck I am."
	Even those angry words were delivered calmly.  Trevor seemed untouched by
the intensity of the scene.
	Thad could hear the buzzing of the lamps as he bent over the beaten woman.
	Later he would associate the monotonous buzz and Trevor's voice, the aloofness
and control - the perfect serenity.
	The whore had come to the Island with no idea of Trevor's intent. That was
absolutely true.  Trevor had shown him her website on the computer upstairs.  She was a
two-hundred dollar an hour callgirl on what she thought would be a routine appointment
- not unlike many of the others that over the next few years would end up as fertilizer in
the rain forests and southern grass-fields of Black Island, or in the belly of the sharks in
the killing pond and the warm Caribbean waters between the Island and the mainland or,
for that matter, in all other similar places owned by the Black X cult around the world.
	Thad hated young pretty women, but specially callgirls and specially this stupid
Dania bitch and watching Trevor whip her had nearly made him cum.  Desire and anger
fused in him. He was full of rage now and as he crouched over her he had no idea of
where to stab first. Wildly he sank the blade into her left thigh.  She screamed and kicked
out, her high-heel shoe driving into Thad's ankle.
	"Shitt!" he cried out in pain as she hobbled away to the other side of the room
spilling blood as she went.
	Trevor laughed at Thad's amateurish attempt.
	"Fucking bitch!" Thad spat, massaging his bruised leg.
	Dania scrambled to the door and tried to open it. Like all doors in the cellar
torture rooms it locked from both sides - only Trevor and his soldiers had keys. She was
out of luck.
	"This is crazy! Let me out of here NOW!" she shouted, her leg bleeding as she
staggered away from Thad, one foot shoeless, ripped black stocking peeled half way
down like banana-skin, her back against the wall as the tall young man moved toward
her uncertainly.  "You people are lunatics. You belong in JAIL!"
	"First lesson, boy," Trevor indicated. "Take charge.  Her life is no longer hers.
Its yours.  Don't let her run around like a chicken in the barnyard."
	Thad closed in on the whore.  She tried to run past him but he took her by the
arm and sank the knife into her guts - one stab into the lower abdomen another into
her chest deflected by her ribs.  Her shriek was deafening, startling Thad as she bent
over, her cuffed hands pressed into the first wound, blood spewing down both legs now. 
As she bent forward Thad had slammed the knife into her back burying half the blade in
her kidneys before the whore found new energy to flail at him with her bound arms,
push him away and go back toward the door.
	Trevor was laughing again.
	"Looks like you got a live one!" he commented.
	"Let me go!" Dania screamed, head raised at the ceiling of the torture room.
"Let me goooo! Help! Heeeelp!"
	Thad caught up to her and grabbing her by the hair he spun her around
and hilted the knife in her guts.
	A hideous grimace twisted her face and a strangled, grating squawk rattled in her
throat.
	"That's better," Trevor growled. "You've got to push that blade in deep to make
it count, Thad."
	Thad grabbed the whore by the neck, slammed her back against the door and
began stabbing her belly repeatedly.  A maddening sense of power rushed into his mind,
a dazzling blinding intensity.  The sound the knife made as it tore into Dania's gutsac
was disgusting and the smell of her gouged intestines and stomach, a smell he would in
time come to love, nearly gagged him but the glaring pleasure in him was unstoppable;
he was on overdrive.
	"Yah! Yah! Yah!" he heard himself shout as he stabbed the wrist-bound
whore again and again until she puked blood on him and slid down to her knees
under the violent attack.
	He had a vague memory of stabbing her face and neck and her arms as she
flopped down dying, her bare foot arched against the door behind her, her other foot
with the high-heel shoe covered in blood and bits of entrail still on it, twisted in
front of her as she collapsed into a weird coreographic split then tilted sideways
and lay on the floor on her back, blood spiraling from her nostrils and lips, one eye
gouged, the other going glassy.  And there was a vaguer memory still of tearing what
was left  of her sexy little Fredrick's of Hollywood dress and her garter belt and
stockings to slam the knife into her mons and into her cunt before shooting off thick
strands of cum all over her butchered sex organs.
	He'd sat on his haunches for ten minutes trying to get his breath back, Trevor
standing over him, a critical look on his cruel face.
	"Very messy, boy," he said, shaking his head. "Very fucking messy."
	Then he smiled.
	"But very spirited. I like that. Passion is so hard to find these days."


	 - Little Isa was licking at Thad's knees now and he moaned softly.
	Yes, babygirl. Very nice, babygirl.
	He stopped masturbating, leaving his cock at its ultimate point of arousal, taking
the single-tail lash from the leather belt around his waist.
	His knuckles went white as his left fist squeezed tighter. He focused on the feel of
the whiphandle in his right hand, the sensation of the weapon balanced there, long black
leather tongue dangling to the beige carpet and curling, pulling like a fishing line getting a
nibble as the little girl brushed past it each time she circled him.
	Male justice', Trevor had said. The words remained in Thad's mind, echoed there
still -


	- "Isn't a woman a filthy thing?" Trevor had asked him.
	After the killing of Dania the cult leader had taken him to another chamber down
the hall to show the pupil the teacher's work.
	They stood next to what seemed to be a gynecologist's chair, tilted back, on which
another of Trevor's unfortunate whores was cuffed by her wrists, her legs spread and
raised high on stirrups, secured by wire cruelly wound tight around her ankles.  A bright
halogen examination light craned over the suffering naked short-haired blonde.  Her
excrement and urine puddled around the chair - her stench filled the room.  It was clear
that she had been on that chair for quite some time, perhaps a couple of days. 
	There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of small cuts, bruises and  abrasions on
her body and face.  Both her nipples had been removed and dark bloody holes tipped
her silicone-enhanced boobs.  She had been brutally beaten, her lips bloody and swollen,
both eyes dark swollen slits.  Her cunt too was black and blue as well as her upper
thighs.  There were small puncture wounds all over her long slender legs from the ankles
to the hips, and some on her feet. One of her knees appeared to be bashed in, broken
and unnaturally swollen.  There were several steel pins pierced under her toenails, deep
into the meat of the toes, and several pins planted in her mutilated tits and on her cunt
mound.  
	Nearby smoke billowed from a small caldron, a large black steel bowl, on a tripod. 
Three steel rods rested in the caldron, dipped in glowing red coals.  The heated caldron 
gave off its own harsh metallic fragrance - a cleansing sort of smell, Thad thought, which
fused with and overpowered the stink of the torture victim.
	"A very filthy thing," Trevor said softly moving to the caldron.
	Thad had watched mesmerized.  Even though he'd just murdered a woman in the
other room and cum all over her, new sexual excitement had surged in him.  He couldn't
understand it but the sight of the grossly defiled bitch on the chair was actually a turn-on
for him - an incredible sick turn-on.  
	"Four days," Trevor said handing him the steel rod.  On the end of the rod there
was a big glowing X' brand.  "I've been working this pig for four days."
	Trevor held another branding iron and he moved toward the woman on the 
chair.
	"I was hoping to get six days out of her but I don't think she'll make it."
	Thad was amazed.  He didn't know it was possible to take a human being to
such lengths of endurance.
	"She might give me five," Trevor said, raising the branding iron to the woman's
face. "Won't you, cunt? That is, if our guest here can curb his youthful excitement."
	The tormented whore looked up at him dazed and unresponsive but when she
saw the smouldering red X' in their hands  she began to make babbling baby-like
sounds, inchoate wordless grunts, and to shake her head.
	"I'm afraid she's lost the gift of language," Trevor commented sardonically.  "It
happens sometimes with these stupid ones.  Their vocabulary is barely a thousand words
anyway. What is it they need to say in their line of work anyway?" He was smiling at the
whore as he brought the branding iron close to her face. "Fuck me, baby.  Yeah, that's
so good, baby.  Oooo, I love it baby - Stupid filthy things women are, Thad. Stupid filthy
things - Hold still, cunt. Or I'll put it in your eye."
	Gripping the whore's head by her tangled sweat-slicked hair Trevor pushed the
branding iron into her right cheek.
	Her scream was a shrill one, like a cat that's had its tail clipped off.
	"Look at er - a filthy pig, just like the rest of her species.  They're just nasty
smelly holes for us to fill - nothing more.  Bleeding wounds."
	Trevor held the iron to her for a few brief seconds then withdrew it.
	A black X' now brazenly marred the whore's beaten cheek flesh.
	"Mmmmm," Thad groaned.  He'd already started to jerk off, his free hand wildly
pistoning his needful erection.  Spanking the bishop, he'd heard it called.
	"Slow it down," Trevor reprimanded.  "Way down - Slow, slower - c'mon, boy -
slower."
	"Uhh -" Thad grunted with the effort.  It was hard to do what Trevor was asking
him.
	"Good," Trevor said as Thad brought himself under control. "Very good. You
show promise, boy."
	"Now - brand the bitch's cunt, Thad," Trevor told him.  "Put the iron to her
pussy. Seal it shut."
	"Ye-ahhh," Thad whispered hoarsely.
	"Slowly!" Trevor warned. "Take your time.  Burn the bitch. Watch her burn.
Look in her eyes. Enjoy her."
	Trevor again grabbed the luckless female by her close-cropped blonde hair to raise
her branded face slightly so that she could watch Thad as he moved up between her
upflung legs.
	"Nuhh - Nuhh - Nuhh -" she was uttering, shaking her head as much as Trevor's
grip would allow.
	Another whore lured to the island by money to die, Thad thought. Could he even
bring himself to think of her as human?  Was there a human soul behind those tormented
eyes? Clearly not.  She was worthless - and she needed to die.
	Thad raised the hot steel and pushed the sizzling brand against her pussylips.
	She stiffened and howled, tried to jerk free of Trevor's grip as her body
bounced, her bound legs twisting against the wired ankles, making the chair and its leg-
extensions groan noisily.
	Thad looked in her bashed in eyes as he pushed the X' brand into her,
held it to her, moist flesh hissing as the whore pissed herself.
	Dirty filthy beast, Thad thought. Trevor was dead right That's all she was. That's ll
women are. Filthy stinking animals.
	Holes.
	Trevor pushed his brand into the young whore's mutilated right breast orb, still
holding her head as she keened in fresh agony.
	"This is what the Black X cult is all about, boy," Trevor snarled. "We rape them.
We beat them. We torture them.  We mutilate them.  We brand em - just like cattle - and
then we finish them."


	 - Now as he remembered Trevor's words, the crude bare-bone expression of the 
Black X manifesto, which would be described to him in fuller detail as time went on,
Thad bit his lip.  Kyla Rodriguez's five year old daughter was licking his thighs and
stealing quick furtive glances up at him.
	"Keep going," he told her.  "Yesss -" He lifted his booming cock for her.
"Lick underneath it - ahhh - yeahh - all around.  Good girl. Kiss my balls. My balls.
That - that's it - mmmm... lick them - ahh yeahh - little bitch...don't stop licking!'
	

	- Trevor and Thad had pressed their branding irons four more times into the
screaming whore.  By then Thad was working himself again, hard, his cock red and sore
from the intense attention.
	"You want to kill this one too, don't you, boy?"
	"Uhh - goddamn - I wanna fuck her."
	"No. Listen to me. Focus. Slow down. Slow down, Thad - Slower - good - good -
keep it steady.  I know you want to put your cock in her and if I let you you'd go back
to the other room and get the knife and do her like you did the other one, wouldn't
you?"
	"Shit, yeah. You know it."
	"I don't want you to do that. I want you to go to the caldron and take the other
piece of metal. Yes. That one. Put your branding iron back in the coals."
	The shaft was four feet long and smoke rose up from it.  Chalky ash from the
coals stuck to the sides and the end was sharply pointed.
	"You're gonna fuck her with that, boy," Trevor told him. "Slowly."
	The woman turned her head to look at him.  She was sobbing and shaking.
	"Slowly," Trevor reiterated. "As slowly as possible."
	Thad had lifted the heavy shaft to the woman's branded cunt.
	"Imagine its your cock, Thad. Imagine that the hot steel is your prick."
	"Mmmm."
	"Put it to her, boy...yes - carefully - find the hole -"
	The whore shrieked at the top of her lungs as he pushed the hot metal spear tip
into her vulva. Smoke hissed from her burning sexmeat.
	"Oh yes, boy. That's very good. Now grind it in. Slowly! Fuck her with it. Clean
er out. Move it in deeper - deeper - go ahead - she can take most of it - she's got a big
sloppy cunt, don't you, Angela dear?  Angela fuckhole. Angela scumbag. You won't be
going on anymore outcalls, Angela dear. Push it in slow, boy. Show this whore who
owns her shit now.  You're gonna be a Black X soldier, Thad. Maybe one of the best. A
top-of-the-line cuntkiller."
	The spear now came up against obstructing cervical anatomy inside the screaming
whore. Thad was tempted to jam it deeper but instead he began to saw it back and forth.
	"Good," Trevor said smiling. "Very good. Just like your cock. In and out.
Mmmm. In and out. Take your time. Make her feel it. That's excellent, Thad."
	Trevor was looking down at the punished blonde, leaning over her to stare into
her eyes.  Thad realized the killer was feeding on her suffering - taking ownership.
	After a few long minutes of this, while the whore screamed her lungs out and
banged her skull against the chair, Trevor suddenly asked him to stop.
	It took all the self control Thad could muster to follow his leader's command. It
was hard to believe that Trevor wanted him to leave the steel rod in the whore and just
walk away.  	But that was just what Trevor demanded.  
	"It takes self-discipline to stop now," Trevor told him. "But that's what you need
to do. Leave it in her and walk away. Leave her there to suffer for us."
	What Thad wanted to do because it would feel so right was to ram the fucking
metal into the whore's guts then take it out and drive it through her sobbing face again
and again.  Instead, to show Trevor that he could and would follow orders, he curbed his
impulses. He turned and followed Trevor out of the room and up out of the cellar into
the blinding light of day.  This, more than anything else, impressed the cult-leader.
Though he did not tell Thad, Trevor knew that the boy posessed all the right qualities to
rise high in the ranks of the Black X.

	
	 - For that kind of obedience and for his strict attention to protocol Thad was often
rewarded with one-on-ones, as now with Kyla Rodriguez's five year old.  
	He looked down on little Isabel as she obediently licked his dangling ball-sacs in
the quiet bedroom. Outside night had fallen.  All remaining traces of the colorful sunset
were gone from the sky and Thad was claiming his prize.
	Male justice and discipline, that's what Trevor had taught him.
	Thad was about to mete out a bit of justice right here in the Rodriguez bedroom.	
	The central air-conditioning unit kicked in and Thad felt a cool draft on his legs
and on his back. The gauzy drapes behind the bed danced quietly.
	The little girl's mouth was heaven on him - fucking heaven.  A lesser man
would have already creamed all over her.  A less reliable Black X soldier would have
already slaughtered the child and spoiled the hunt-leader's plans.
	"Take my pee-pee in your hands," Thad told Isa hoarsely.
	She looked up at him, her big brown eyes wide.
	"You heard me. Do it."
	Her tiny hand gripped his shaft and she held it gingerly, his cockhead pointing at
her quivering chin, her little mouth sagging.  He thought she might start to bawl but
she just continued to sob brokenly.
	"Move your hands back and forth on it. Rub it - mmmm - yeahh - a little faster -
mm - faster - yess - just like that. Don't stop. Uhh - you little bitch - keep rubbing."
	Isa felt his member tense and harden under her innocent stroking.  He had such
a big pee-pee, she thought. It scared her. It was thicker than her arm. She'd seen the
naked men earlier when they killed Yvette's friends outside and she knew their pee-pees
were big.  But up-close this one seemed monstrous. And it was hot and rubbery, like a
swollen hot dog.
	"Faster," Thad urged. "Ahhh - yeahh - faster, babygirl.  Get me nice and big and
hard so I can fuck you - yeah - uhhh - yeahh - little sluttt -"
	The sound of the little girl beating his meat excited him. It was a wet slithery
sound and the smell of pre-cum wafted up to him.
	Isa began to tire and slow down.
	"Keep going!" he snarled. "Don't you fucking stop until I tell you to!"
	She let out a little cry and jacked him faster rocking up on her toes and down on
her heels vigorously putting her whole little body into the effort though her arms hurt.
	She didn't know why he wanted her to do this only that it was making him feel
good.  Maybe if she kept making him feel good he wouldn't hurt her.  Maybe he
wouldn't do what that other nasty thing was - the thing he said he was going to do when
she made him hard enough - fuck' her. The word scared her because she had no
reference for it, no understanding.
	Thad stared down at the child. 
	"Lick it," he told her.  "Lick the tip of it." Breath hissed between his teeth.
" - yessss - you little piece of shit - get your mouth around it - ohh - get it all wet -
uh - uh - uh - suck on it. You heard me. Suck on it, babygirl - ahhnhh - goddamn
you, babygirl - yesss - Don't you stop rubbing it. C'mon. Faster. Keep licking and
sucking. That's it. That's right you little fuck.  That's real nice. Reeal fuckin' nice. Just
like a little whore."
	He leaned down slightly to wrap the tail of the whip around her neck, two
loops then a third, then a fourth.  His hips rocked to the child's stroking movements. She
gave out a tiny little squeal as he tugged on the whip handle and the tail strand
squeezed into her throat.
	The only rule Thad had to follow here was not to kill the pup.  Ward had told him
what he planned for little Isabel and they needed her alive to pull it off.  Outside of that,
Thad had been given free rein.  And he took it now gently strangling his child victim as
she continued to try and please him her little hands moving back and forth her tiny
mouth sealed around his prickhead, her cheeks red as she gasped for air.
	Now this  is foreplay, Thad mused.
	Slowly pulling on the whip he lifted Isa off her feet and she began to choke, her
little hands rising to the looped leather cord around her neck.  Thad knew the child was
not heavy enough for her neck to snap from suspension but he knew she could choke to
death if he held her there for too long.
	"Did I tell you to stop?" he sneered cruelly. "Put your hands back on me and
keep rubbing, you miserable little worm."
	She made loud gagging noises and looked up at him pleadingly.
	"Do it, Isabel," he said icily.
	Obediently she reached out to take his big cock in her tiny hands again and to rub
him though she could barely breathe now. He tilted his head back and enjoyed the
sensation of her small hands on him, peering down at her, watching her face flush darker.
Shooting tingles of pleasure moved up his belly and down his legs.  His
breath was quick and shallow and his heart raced.  Isabel was giving him a nice
hand job for a five year old. But the best part was that her life was in his hands -
dangling there she was totally at his mercy.
 	"Alright," he told her. "That's enough." 
	He raised her up by the choking whip so that her flushed beet-red face was level
with his. She twisted and writhed, her hands reaching out, her legs kicking and he
kept her at arm's length feeding on her suffering. She was like a little puppet, her lifelike
movements suspended, interrupted, by a willful puppetmaster. He walked to the bed with
the dangling child and dropped her unceremoniously on the wrinkled quilt.
	"Lie on your back. Spread your legs open," he told her.
	Male justice was coming.
	"Lift your legs up. C'mon. Way up."
	He'd left the whiptail wrapped around her throat and the whip snaked up around
her head and over the scattered pillows as she folded back her knees and raised her
feet high, just as he'd told her to do.
	Thad stood over her by the footpost of the bed as she followed his commands. 
Her little legs popped wide, toes aimed at the ceiling.
	Thad climbed up on the bed and moved toward the child like a stalking panther.
	"Keep those pretty little legs way up, babygirl - way up for me."
	He crouched between her spread legs then knelt and leaned forward to put his
massive penis to her impossibly small vaginal slit.
	"Don't - move," he growled into her face, grabbing the end of the whip to tug on
it, to let her know he had her. Then, spreading her little pink cuntlips open with his other
hand he pressed the head of his cock into the small pink-red hole, filling the moist little
opening with his meat and giving her his weight. She kicked and struggled and gasped
under him as he yanked on the whip.
	"I said DON'T FUCKIN' MOVE!"
	Wounds. That's what Trevor sometimes called females.  Bleeding wounds.  
	"From the day they're born," he'd told Thad as they'd sat under the umbrella
at the patio table out on the beach, the surf pounding the Black Island shoreline. "From
the day they're born til the day they fuckin' die, women are nothing but bloody
bleeding wounds.  They're born open for us. Open, Thad.  Open and ready for stuffing. 
And that's the way men like us want to see them die. Open, bleeding, gouged."
	Now Thad slid unstoppably, unremittingly, into the little wound Isabel. 
	Male justice was being served, hot and fresh - a twenty three year old adult
pushing into a five year old child, a big cruel strong man grinding into a tiny infant.
	Aren't there thousands of children's tales that deal with the child-chasing ogre, the
bogeyman, the midnight monster, and isn't this what they all hint at, this crucial moment
of bestial manrape?
	This was the life Thad most enjoyed living, violent, sick and heartless - females
treated with no dignity and no respect.  Girl children broken and violated.
	Downstairs a piercing shriek rang out - then another.
	Isa recognized Yvette's voice.
	Thad smiled, grunted and pushed in further.
	The men are killing Yvi, Isabel thought. They're killing her like they killed the
others outside. And they'll kill mommy too - and me!
	Little Isa began to wail and then to squeal like a stuck pig when Thad busted
through her hymen and rammed his prick past it into her impossibly tight uterine
channel.  He pulled hard on the whip to strangle the child. He wanted her quiet
and choking.  That's the way he preferred to fuck little girl victims.  His sense of power
was enhanced by those qualities.  Quiet and choking.
	Her small weak arms reached up to push against his shoulders, to hit at him
pointlessly as he reached the limit of his penetration, not even three-quarters of the way
in.  Lubed by her blood and what was left of her spit on his shaft he began to fuck her
with patient in and out thrusts, remembering Trevor's training.  Slow, slow, slower.  
	It took him nearly a half hour to speed up slightly, to make the bed creak under
his knees, to make Isa bounce slightly under his onslaught.  By then he'd started to
slap her, hard - to alternate choking and slapping - to spit on her cute little face as her
mouth gaped in a choked silent scream - to spit right in her little mouth - occasionally to
punch her tight little belly - and deliciously to bite the sweet little pup, hard, his teeth
leaving jagged red crescents all over her abdomen and chest and arms.
	Male justice was being dealt.



__________________________________


	The action in the living room of the Rodriguez house was frenetic - male violence
passionately released.
	When Matt and Ward had their fill of raping Yvette they made her lie on her back
on the glass center table and they'd released Carmen from her suspension and ungagged
her to make the dark-haired latina kneel and push her face into Yvette's bruised bleeding
cunt.  Then the men had attacked the two sobbing screaming teens with steel-studded
dogwhips while forcing them to engage in an extended and hideous pantomime of
lesbian love, the girls forced to sixty-nine each other, Carmen on top first, then Yvette,
the dogwhips whistling and whooping and whacking across their backs and flanks, across
the soles of their feet. They'd slid around on the low table when it became slippery with
their sweat, hotly welted girlskin making squeaky noises against the glass top.
	Alina was released and ungagged as well, the three girls dragged to the floor, the
furniture kicked aside, all three young victims made to form a daisy chain in front of
Kyla - mom as the altar - the girls as the offerings. Matt kept his dogwhip, Ward took up
a long wooden dowel and the attack resumed.  Alina's face brushed against Kyla's feet,
the child mouthing incomprehensible words, her eyes burned out, her body shuddering
as the whip and the cane found her little tittie-buds again and again and her belly 
drawing blood.  Yvette was forced to push her face into her thirteen year old sister's little
twat while Carmen was made to lick at Yvette's asshole.  Ward's cane found Yvette's
smooth little butt and Carmen's shoulders and back repeatedly with harsh thudding
blows.  Matt whipped Alina's titties and belly. The men circled the daisy chain of females
striking down on them, calling them names, laughing, jeering, driving each other on.
	Alina's mind was blown.  She imagined it was Dora's mouth and not Yvette's
pressing against her pussy. She had erased the events of the afternoon killings from her
mind - instead, a vision of yellow flowers in endless rows across a wide field filled her
thoughts.  The blows of the whip and the cane were like breaths of fire - comet-trails that
raced across her nude body as it floated above the flowers.  There was no before and no
after - only this - only now.
	After a while, the killers yanked the girls up on their feet and pushed them up
against the living room wall where the couch had been. The couch was now in the
middle of the room, backed sideways into the glass center table.  The rest of the
furniture was in disarray and somehow the big-screen television had come on, though
the volume was muted.  It was tuned in to the cartoon channel where Tom and Jerry
romped in full technicolor.
	Ward went to the boxes of torture devices and came back with a black rubber
dildo.  Spiny metal barbs covered the dildo's entire surface area.  The cruel object was
nearly two feet long.
	"This is Tommy,"  he told the girls as he held up the torture cock. "First one of
you that runs away or falls down gets him - all the way up your ass."
	Carmen and Yvette shook their heads sobbing. They huddled against each other.
	Run away or fall down - why?
	Alina stood by unresponsive, drooling, eyes fixed on the TV where the cartoon
was playing, soundless strobing images.  Tom chased Jerry across a minefield.  The
mouse wore an army helmet.  The cat exploded and blinked at her, charred black, falling
in shattered pieces like a collapsing jigsaw puzzle.
	Stella and Kyla hung helplessly by their wrists, ball-gagged, crying, silent witnesses
to whatever destruction would be unleashed upon the other three females.
	Matt put the spiked dildo on the center table where the girls could see it.
	"Remember - if you run away or fall -" he gestured at the weapon on the table.
"Your asshole's history."
	Ward stepped up first.
	"No kicking, Ward," Matt warned.  "Fists only."  He knew what Ward's black-
belt karate kicks could do to a victim.  He'd seen him in action many times and he
wanted at least a fair chance to win the little contest. "One punch. That's it."
	Now Yvette and Carmen understood - run away or fall down - the men would
take turns hitting them until the girls did one or the other.
	Ward pressed Alina back against the wall, holding her by her shoulder. "Just one
punch?" he asked rhetorically. "Too bad - I could spend all night on this cute little
bunny...break every fucking bone in her little body..." The thirteen year old was looking
at him but she didn't see him.  She kept seeing the black-faced crumbling cartoon cat on
the TV screen.  Ward knew the child's mind was wasted. It made him feel good -
powerful - totally on top.  "Let's see if we can snap you out of it," he said to her softly. 	
	Bending slightly he reared back and punched her cunt as hard as he could with his
right fist.
	Yvette and Carmen gasped and looked away as the thirteen-year old was slammed
against the unyielding wall.  Alina gave out a long winded growling grunt, leaning
forward slightly. She started to tilt forward but then staggered back. Her little cunt
dribbled bloody piss but her eyes were still blank. She remained expressionless as Kyla
moaned mournfully for her trying to make eye-contact with the thirteen year old.
	"Guess not," Ward commented.  "Lights are on but no one's home." Then
turning to his friend, "Your turn."
	Matt moved toward Carmen. 
	"No - no, pleease," the dark-skinned teen blurted bumping against the couch as
she was forced back toward the wall.
	Matt smiled down on her. He was a foot and a half taller.  His hand on her bare
shoulder was hard, heavy, his fingers digging in.
	"Shut up and spread your legs, spic," he growled.
	The dogwhip and the cane had left some nice marks on her big soft tits, on her
belly and thighs and on her shoulders.
	He pressed her against the hard white surface.  A framed picture hung above her,
a soothing mountain-side landscape. The picture had tilted thirty degrees to the right
from the impact of Ward's fist into Alina's pussy a moment earlier.
	"Hey, Ward," he said looking into Carmen's eyes. "We haven't fucked this pig
yet."
	"Yo that's true," Ward replied. He stood next to Kyla a half empty bottle of 
Michelob they'd found in the refrigerator earlier in his hand.  He tilted the bottle back
and took a long swig. "Hell, maybe if you hit her hard enough we'll have to take sloppy
seconds from Tommy."
	The men laughed.
	Matt's eyes went predatorial and mean.  He would like nothing better than to
shove Tommy the barbed dildo all the way up this little spic bunny.  He was gonna give
er his best shot.
	Ward sipped the beer and watched his friend's arm rear back.
	Carmen let out a howling shriek as Matt's fist slammed into her cunt.  She
staggered, knees buckling, reaching out for Yvette. The landscape picture fell from the
wall and smashed to the floor.  Matt pushed Yvette away and waited as Carmen
eventually leaned back against the wall crying and pressing her hands into her crotch.
	"Shit. Bitch can take it." He looked over his shoulder at Ward.
	"You're up."
	Ward put the beer down and moved in. It was Yvette's turn now.
	"You know the routine, slut," he told her. 
	Yvette hung her head as she pressed her whip-welted back against the wall and
spread her legs open, her left calf brushing against the fallen picture, her foot in bits of
broken glass from the frame.
	"That's nice," Ward told her as he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Very
accomodating."
	Kyla closed her eyes.  She couldn't watch.  She doubted her blonde sixteen-year
old daughter could take the killer's blow after all she'd already been put through.
	As Ward got ready to slug Yvette, Matt circled slowly and watched. He edged up
next to Stella. Picking up the beer bottle Ward had left on the center table, he took a
swig and glanced sideways at the suspended blonde big-titted cheerleader.  The big black
ball gag stretching her mouth made her even more lovely and radiant.  Her baby blue
eyes reflected the inner turmoil wreaked by what she was being forced to watch.
	Matt put his hand on her rump, right over the red and blue rose tattoo he'd
noticed earlier. She recoiled to his touch giving out a surprised whimper. Stella's ass was
full, plump but firm, her skin smooth and cool.
	"Isn't it nice, bitch?" he said smiling, leaning toward her, his fingers tracing the
contours of her buttcheeks.  "You don't have to be involved in our little fall-down, run-
away contest. Not you. Not Stella Dalwell. You're special.  You've always been special,
haven't you?  Well, we've got something real special for our special prickteasing girl -
real special -"
	"MMggg!" she croaked, avoiding the killer's face, her eyes terror-wide 
	"Later," he said smiling.  He gave her butt a neat little slap, and turned to look
back at what was happening.
	Ward was down on one knee focusing his attention on Yvette's neatly shaved little
puss.  She was a true blonde and the trimmed patch of pubic hair was curly and golden.
He caressed her soft fur with his fingertips, gently and traced the triangular patch of girl
flesh licking his lips.  He had enjoyed fucking and beating her. Now he wanted this sweet
blonde pussy to hurt.  And, if he hit her just right and made her fall, her tight little
asshole, which he'd also greatly enjoyed, would be torn to pieces by the dildo as well.  Of
course, the added bonus with either Yvette or Alina was that mom, dear sweet pregnant
mom, would get to watch.
	He rose up and pressed the teenager back tight against the wall and she gave out a
muted cry of anticipation.
	"Stupid little whore," he growled his hand moving to her neck. "Fall for me."
	He cocked his arm, punched her little cheerleader cunt with all his might and
stepped back.
	Yvette screeched, her head bouncing as she banged her skull, her arms reaching
out on either side as she bent forward and slid down first on one knee, trying to get back
up then leaning too far in the opposite direction, finally toppling to the ground at Ward's
feet with a grunt.  A shard of glass from the broken picture frame cut her forearm and
the sides of her legs.
	Matt put down the beer and picked up Tommy.
	"We have a winner," he barked and moved toward Yvette who rolled sideways
into the wall, crouched in a fetal position, clutching at her pussy, blood trickling through
her fingers, her back crisscrossed with the fading welts of the earlier whipping.  
	"Hold her down," Matt told Ward shoving the landscape picture and the broken
frame away.  He needed room.
	As Ward moved in Carmen backed away huddling against Alina.
	Ward pulled Yvette on her back, knelt on her shoulders, grabbed her ankles and
yanked her legs back toward her head.  Blood from the glass-cuts dripped on to his
hands.
	"Stuff the little whore, Matt," he said meanly. "Put Tommy all the fuckin' way in
there."
	"You know it, bro," Matt replied taking the dildo by the base where there were
no barbs.  He aimed it at Yvette's raped bleeding asshole between her welt-riddled
cheeks and slammed it into her hard.
	She yelped and fought in vain, Ward's knees digging into her shoulders, his
fingers into her thighs. Then, as Matt pushed the spiny dildo into her she screamed,
a shrill full-throated cry that filled the whole house, the veins on her neck standing out
as her mouth stretched wide. It felt to her as though she were being sawed in half
from the inside.  The metal spikes ripped their way through her shit pipe and
gouged at the edges of her sphincter and at her whipped asscheeks as they penetrated,
the dildo splitting her wider as it was driven inward. Tommy was a full inch wider at its
base than at its head and Matt huffed with the effort of shoving its full lenght into
Yvette's punished asshole.  Ward pulled her legs further apart to facilitate his
friend's endeavor both men fully enjoying the horrible pain they were causing
the blameless teen victim.
	From the little family history Ward had gathered during the preparation for the
hunt, he'd discovered that Yvette was a loving, altruistic, self-less girl, one who
made the honor roll on a regular basis and was always volunteering for community
activities, one who was exceedingly popular, a model for the other kids, and cheerleader
squad captain to boot.  Those facts nurtured his depraved hatred.  She was everything he
or any of his friends could never be and her second throaty scream of agony confirmed
that he and Matt were giving her everything she richly deserved, everything she needed.
She needed to be struck down off her little pedestal.  Stinking little bitch. Just who the
fuck did she think she was?  She needed to know what pain and suffering were - up
close and personal.  But most of all she needed to satisfy their lust and to lose her
humanity doing it.
	Yvette's long scream ended in a winded whimper as Matt hilted the dildo in her.
	"Tommy's your closest friend now, pig," he sneered.
	Both men got to their feet and watched Yvette curl up on the tiled floor, knees
pulling up to her chest as she writhed in agony, blood pouring from her dildo-stuffed
rectum, her arms wrapped around her welt-crossed, glass-cut legs as she hugged herself
and sobbed.
	"She's taken care of for the moment," Ward smart-assed. 	
	The men turned to find Carmen with her arms protectively around Alina.
	"Well, look at that," Matt said. "Aren't we all lovey-dovey." And to Carmen:
"Are you a dyke too, spic? Huh? Like your redhead Indian friend floating out there in
the pool?"
	Before Carmen could respond he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her out to
the middle of the room.
	"Maybe you liked licking Yvette's little asshole before. Huh? Did you like it?
Huh? Maybe you want to lick her little sister too, to be her little dyke lover..."
	"No! I -" Carmen began but he slapped her angrily almost knocking her over.
	"We gotta double-team this youngster, Ward," he snarled staring at Carmen. She
could not bear to look back at him and instead kept her eyes on the ground, her face
smarting from his blow, her ears ringing. "Just like we did Yvette - before she goes dyke
on us, right?"
	"Yeah," Ward said grinning. "We wouldn't that to happen - but before we do
we should make sure Mrs. Rodriguez's daughters are - uh - properly secured."
	"Mmm - Of course. We wouldn't want the little bunnies hurting themselves."
	Kyla clenched her teeth together to stifle a sob as the men laughed.
	She could see the clock on the kitchen wall through the open door.
	It was 8: 20...surely someone would call the house - Frank - or one of the
cheerleaders' parents - somebody - anybody - They would know something was
wrong when no one answered.  Surely they would know and they would come.
	But they had to come soon. She could see the killing rage slowly building in the
men again and she knew there wasn't much time left.
	Then she watched Ward leading Alina toward the chain dangling from the
hook in the ceiling and she had a terrible thought.
	Maybe it was already too late.


8.

	Connie Spell put down her cell phone and drove up Skylan Road.
	"Stop that," she snapped at Kimmie in the back seat. The ten year old had been in
a real annoying mood all evening picking on her younger brother who kept fighting off
her unprovoked pinching attacks. "Leave your brother be!"
	They were returning from the McDonald's near the mall where she'd bought the
kids a couple of happy meals. Connie had chewed her way through a limp and tasteless
Big Mac trying to forget what she'd been quietly obsessing about for the last two hours.
	She'd spent most of the late afternoon working through a bottle of Bacardi while
the kids played upstairs and now she had a slight buzz which would have been pleasant if
she hadn't been so damn worried about Tori. She'd made several calls to Tori's cell
phone and to Kyla Rodriguez's house number and gotten out-of-calling-area and out-of-
service messages  that didn't make any sense.  She'd spoken to Kyla that morning and
she'd spoken to Tori sometime around noon overhearing the other girls in the
background, laughing and splashing about the pool. 
	Tori hadn't called back all day. That was not like her.  Connie had expected Tori
to call sometime around supper time but she never had and now Connie had a bad
feeling that something wasn't right. She thought of trying the other girls' numbers but
she didn't have them with her.  They were on her computer at home.
	The traffic was sparse on Skylan, something to be thankful for. It would have been
more stressful driving in traffic with the tipsy sensation from the booze. The kids went
quiet in the back seat of the passenger van.  They were looking up at the TV screen.
Something had distracted them from their sibling jousting for the moment.  This van
with the on-board television was the best investment she had ever made, Connie thought.	
	Then she wondered if she should call one of the other cheerleader parents. She
had the home numbers on the computer too,  The Dalwells or the Samuels, but then she
didn't want to raise up an alarm for no good reason. Maybe there was some kind of
weird power outtage at the Rodriguez house and it had affected the phones  Then
Connie's mind went logically to the worst case scenario - a raging fire - a horrible
accident.  But surely if anything like that  had happened she would have gotten a call.
Wouldn't she? Most likely from the police.  She knew that the Rodriguez family had one
of those fancy alarm systems that were linked to fire and police. By now everyone would
have been contacted.
	These were the times she missed Paul the most. He would have calmed her
and told her that everything was ok, that there was nothing to worry about.  But Paul
was gone. Out of the blue - gone. Dead at 37 from a sudden coronary.   And there
wasn't a day that went by in the last three years since it had happened that she didn't
miss him and need him terribly.  She'd been left with three kids - Tori, Kimmie and little
Michael.  Thank God the insurance had taken care of everything. It was still taking care
of them.  That and Paul's investments would see them through...and for moments such
as these a little help from the liquor cabinet in the den, would keep things on an even
keel.
	She came to a red light on West Cadman and tried Tori's number again.
	The first time she dialed it wrong and got some irate elderly woman on the line.
	When she dialed again she got the out of area message.
	She was only ten minutes from Farwell Woods;  maybe she would just drop in and
see how the girls were doing.
	Then she thought how it would embarass Tori - Tori who was always trying to act
so cool and hip, with that little vampirella look Connie hated but couldn't talk her
young daughter out of.
	Goth', they called it now. To Connie it was just another word for slut'.
	The light went green.
	She had a second to decide. Left was Farwell Woods. Straight ahead meant home
and to bed without news from Tori.
	A car behind her honked.
	Instinctively she veered left on to West Cadman.
	"Mom," Kimmie called from the back seat. "Where are you going?"
	"We're gonna check in on Tori, sweetie."
	"Why?"
	"Just because."
	"I don't want to go to Yvette's house. I want to go home."
	"Kimmie, be quiet. You won't have to get out of the van, alright? Now just sit
there and watch TV - we'll be home soon."
	Her ten year old daughter rolled her eyes as Connie looked out on the road ahead.
	There was even less traffic now as she moved into the upper scale area of town.
	It wasn't long before she was on a two lane blacktop and the Rodriguez mailbox
came up on her right.  She swung into the access road and drove through the dark
woods toward the house.
	"Aww jeez," Kimmie said, rolled her eyes again, sighed, then pouted.
	Connie looked at her children briefly in the rearview mirror.
	Kimmie was a carbon copy of Tori at that age, blonde, skinny, with icy blue eyes,
like her mother's, and she was going through a similar self-centered phase which Tori
had gone through.
	Michael, who sat next to her hypnotized by the flickering light of the TV screen,
had big dark eyes, like Paul.  He was a sweet boy, quiet and easygoing.
	The Rodriguez house was now visible just beyond a clump of trees and a wide
open field.
	Everything's fine, Connie thought. Just fine. What was I worrying about?
	She could see the lights on in the bedroom upstairs and in the living room just as
she passed an SUV parked on the side of the access road.  She wondered whose vehicle
that was.  She didn't recognize it.
	She wasn't sure what she would tell Kyla.  It was embarassing for Connie to admit
that she'd spent the whole evening worrying about nothing.  Still, she figured Kyla
would understand. What mother wouldn't?
	Connie didn't know that in less than two hours she and both her pretty children
would be bloody meat in the Rodriguez pool.


__________________________________



	After Thad had raped little Isabel's pussy for nearly an hour he pulled out of her
and swung her over on her belly. He made his bawling victim get on her knees,
crouched in front of him, the whip still wrapped around her neck, her face
hidden under her disheveled mane of hair. There was a small puddle of blood under the
little girl's belly and his cock was coated with it.  He was pretty sure he'd damaged
her inside - probably beyond repair - and that was just fine with him because the little pig
wasn't going to need repair after tonight and besides what he was gonna do next was
gonna make it even worse.
	"Stay there," he told her as he got up off the bed.
	He took the lamp on the night table and pulled out the plug. Then he tore the
electrical cord from it tossed the lamp on the floor and went back to the bed. 
	"Gimme your hands," he told her.
	"Don't hurt m-m-m - d-don't h-hurt m-m-m -" she was saying raising her
face to look up at him as he reached down and took her hands to wrap the
electrical cord around her little wrists.
	"Shut up."
	He pulled the cord harshly around her limbs, four loops clockwise and two loops
perpendicular to the first four, as tight as he could, until the wire bit into her skin and she
hung her head crying. Then he pulled the end of the cord up to the crossbar on the brass
headpost hoisting the child's wrists up.  He didn't want her to be able to move away. 
What he was gonna do to the little bitch was gonna hurt her badly and he wanted her to
be utterly unable to escape it.
	He got back up on the bed behind her, her little butt in front of him, her
arms strung up on the headpost, her body jerking as she sobbed. She was covered
with sweat.
	He kneaded her plump asscheeks, squeezing the soft meat hard, then he slapped
them, leaving the scarlet imprint of his fingers on her.  After a few harsh smacks he
reached down and spread the moist reddened half-moons apart with one hand. With the
other he unsheathed his hunting knife.
	"I'm gonna hurt you, babygirl," he announced, an odd grin on his face.
"Just like I said I would.  Don't you fuckin' move or it'll be worse."
	"Nnuuuhhhh -" she moaned. "Nuuuhhhhh -"
	He brought the cold metal tip of the blade right up to the indented rosey skin
of little Isabel Rodriguez's asshole.
	She flinched when she felt it and gasped.
	Her anal muscle clenched tight.
	Holding her little cheeks apart, creating an opening between his thumb and
forefinger for the knife he put his full weight on her, kneeling on her ankles.  She
groaned in protest.
	With the practiced precision of a surgeon, Thad skillfully pushed his killing-sharp
blade into the five year old child's asshole as she keened wildly, her legs trapped under
his, her arms fighting the electrical cord that held them to the brass headpost. Blood
skittered up the side of the knife and on to his fingers as it spurted from the ever
widening wound.
	"Gonna cut you open, babygirl, so I can go in you -" 
	Her wild piercing shrieks made the killer's heart race as he sliced her sphincter
open and twisted the knife back and forth in her, opening an inch wide wound. 
	"mmmm - yeahh - scream - that's nice - scream for me -"
	Retrieving his stained blade he pushed his prick up to the bloody gash between
Isa's little buttcheeks and slid slowly into the warm woundhole, filling it with hard
manmeat.  The sensation of the bloody ring of flesh around the circumference of his shaft
was intoxicating - and still more intoxicating was the warmth of the child's body inside,
and the vibrations of her screams, and the frantic gyrations of her trapped body.  Her
bound arms clanged against the brass bedposts as she tried in vain to pull free of the
electrical cord.
	He put the knife down on the bed and took the end of the whip which was still
wrapped around Isa's neck to choke her as he fucked her, tugging on the single-tail like a
stage-coach driver on the rein of his horses.
	Thad pushed down into his diminutive victim, slowly cramming as much of
himself in her as her sliced anus could handle.  Halfway in he could feel her soft mushy
faeces pressing against his cockhead.  He continued to press inward and brown rivulets
leaked from her gouged opening as he yanked back on the whip strangling her harder.
	"Ahhhh," he moaned with sick pleasure, dropping the end of the whip to grip 
both of Isa's little hips and thrust himself into the child's suffering body.  Her small legs
kicked out against the bed on either side of him and she gasped for air and banged her
head against the bedpost.  He began to fuck her, inthrusting and withdrawing, all the way
in and almost all the way out, slowly, deliberately, using the child with sadistic intent, her
blood trickling warmly against his balls as he almost hilted himself in her, his penis
pressing upward into her upper intestines, stabbing into her soft innards with devastating
effect.  
	The pain for Isa was beyond comprehension.  She was on the brink of going
unconscious from it.  His thing inside her was as hard as rock and it tore and punched
its way into her belly.  It stopped her breath and sent abdominal cramps shooting
through her, as though she had to go to the bathroom and was unable to. It felt like a hot
brick had been jammed up her caca-hole.
	But Thad wanted more pain from his little babygirl.
	Much more.
	He slid all the way out of her and watched blood and shit spurt from the
ugly wound he'd made. He gave her a short respite and then he brought his hand up to
her asshole and pressed the three middle fingers into the nasty hole his cock had just
plundered.
	"You're so cute - mmmm - so sweet - momma's little angel - You're little poo-
poo hole is big now, isn't it? So much bigger than when we started."
	She leaned her head back between her upflung arms to look up at him.
	"I want my m-mommie...my mommie -"
	"Your mommie can't help you, sweetheart. Not now -"
	He pushed his fingers inward, then worked in his thumb and pinky, his whole
fist.
	"No one can help you now - not ever."
	Isa started whimpering shrilly like a hurt puppy.
	"You can forget your goddamned mommie. You're mine now."
	"All mine, " the killer spat, forcing his fist deep.
	The five year old raised her head back and screeched.  There was a ripping sound
as what was left of her little asshole ruptured to allow the big man's fist into her.  With
unhesitating determination, Thad pushed his fist in all the way to his wrist as Isa's shit
and blood pulsed out of her and soiled the quilt and sheets under her, running down the
inside of her kicking thighs.  With his other hand he grabbed her head and began to
work his fist in and out, fucking her with it, reaching around to cup her mouth and nose,
to stop her breath while he did so.  Little Isabel fought and bucked, trying to escape his
grip and he slammed his fist inward.
	"Stop moving around!" he snarled.
	She tried to obey him but the pain made her move involuntarily, and she sobbed
and wheezed as he fistfucked her.  She couldn't draw air into her lungs because his
hand sealed her nostrils and lips shut and she began to see tiny spots sputtering before
her eyes and dancing on the gauzy white drape that hung down behind the bed.
	"Little scumbag bitch...don't you fucking faint on me. Stay awake. Feel the pain -
feel it - take it - take everything that's comin' to you."
	Why was the bad man so angry with her? she thought. Why did he want to hurt
her so much?  It felt like he was ripping her in half - Why had these men come to the
house to hurt her and her sisters and her momma and their friends? 
	The questions flickered through the child's pain ravaged mind as she began
to weaken, head slumped.  She was starting to pass out, to become unresponsive.
	Before she could go completely unconscious he released her face to let her
breathe.
	Slowly, he pulled his big fist out of her, making it hurt as much as possible
on the way out.  Then, moving up against her, he pushed his throbbing cock back into
the rape-hole he'd cut in the child to bugger her for nearly ten minutes as she hung
weakly from the bedpost, drooling and making unintelligible sounds.  He alternated
raping her gashed asshole and her tight little pussyslit taking his time with her.
	Slow, slow, slower...
	He could go at her all night if he wished.  That's how efficiently he'd learned
to control his orgasmic release.  But he had other plans for her.  He wanted to see
her in worse condition.  He wanted to use her up, to take her as far as possible.
	Suddenly, he heard the radar scanner go off downstairs, a high-pitched
beeping from the equipment Ward had set up earlier that afternoon in the Rodriguez
dining room. The warning sound meant someone was outside on the property, someone
had violated the perimeter.
	Just as he pulled out of Isa and leaped off the bed Matt came through the
bedroom door, Uzi in hand.
	Matt was covered with blood. His eyes drifted down to the sobbing child on the
bed, her tiny gashed asshole bleeding on the sheets. "Mmm - very nice - I'm real sorry
to interrupt but we got problems."
	"Any idea who's out there?" Thad asked picking the bloody knife up from the
bed and sheathing it as both men moved through the hallway toward the stairs leading
down into the living room.
	"No," Matt replied.
	Thad had a moment to check out the scene in the living room.
	It was clear his friends had been having themselves quite a time with the females.
	Alina and Yvette hung by upraised arms, facing each other, each girl standing on
one leg, tippy-toe, the other leg raised high, Rockette style, to pulley wire-lines from the
ceiling. Thad recognized the position. He'd used it himself several times.
	Carmen Garcia lay butchered on the floor in a viscuous puddle of blood, eyeless,
titless, her throat cut, her belly gashed, black X's branded into her face and thighs and
calves.
	But there was no time to take in more details. Thad grabbed his own weapon
which he'd left in the rec room earlier that day, on top of the entertainment center, and
he followed Ward and Matt toward the dining room where the tracking equipment was
laid out on the table.
	Ward, girl-blood dripping from his hands and arms, worked the keyboard of a
laptop computer that was wired to a large olive colored knapsack and a video image
came on the LED screen. It was clearly the view captured by an infrared camera in the
SUV outside.  
	The men watched a suburban van move slowly past the SUV.
	"Who the fuck's that?" Matt asked.
	"I don't know," Ward replied studying the screen. "One of the cheerleader's
parents maybe."
	"Well, at least its not the cops," Thad said.
	All three of them were relieved with that.
	They watched a woman step out of the van and walk toward the front door.
	"Somebody's fuckin' mom," Ward sneered contemptuously. "She's gonna wish
she'd stayed home, I can tell you that." 
	In the other room the females were making desperate noises, trying to call out for
help. They knew from the high-pitched alarm sounds and the behavior of their captors
that something was going on. The rubber ball gags in their mouths were effectively
muffling their attempts.
	"I'll get the bitch at the door," Ward growled. "You guys check out the van."
Flipping off the safety switch on his Uzi he moved out of the dining room and into the
living room.
	Thad and Matt followed with their weapons also at the ready.
	As he passed Kyla who hung by her wrists up on her toes Thad gave the
pregnant woman a wink.
	"Don't worry," he told the horrified captive, whispering conspiratorially.
	"Your little Isabel is still alive -" he licked his lips and added one last word
stepping up to Kyla to breathe it into her ear, "Barely." 
	He smiled broadly before moving past her toward the front door.
	The doorchimes rang and Kyla closed her eyes and prayed.
	

__________________________________


	Connie Spell and her kids were still at the McDonald's near the mall and Thad had
not yet sodomized little Isa with his knife when Matt and Ward were deciding to place
Alina and Yvette in cruel two-way bondage.
	"...we wouldn't want the little bunnies hurting themselves," Matt had said.
	Naturally that was exactly what the sadistic killers most wanted.
	Black X soldiers learned many techniques of torture which they would often
put into practice on the field.  One of these techniques was to create an interdepent
torture between two females, where the movement toward release of one victim
would adversely injure the other keeping both captives in mutual agonized constraint.
	Two females hurting themselves was a definite high-point in a take down. 
	In this case, Matt used the classic one-leg-high scenario.
	Yvette, with the barbed dildo still pushed way up her ass, blood flowing in thin
droplet streams down the inside of her legs to the tiled floor, was bound by her cuffed
wrists facing her catatonic sister, Alina, similarly bound.  Both young girls, arms reaching
upward, were hoisted until they stood tippy-toe then Alina's right leg was raised and
ankle-cuffed to a pulley wire-line Matt screwed into the ceiling studs. This pulley-line led
to a sharp metal hook pierced through both of Yvette's bruised pussy lips, her cute
young vulva squeezed shut and tugged outward.  Yvette's right leg was raised and
cuffed to another pulley line which led to a sharp hook driven through Alina's labia.  As
either girl tried to seek comfort, trying to bring their upraised legs down, the hooks
would tug immediately on her sibling's cuntlips causing acute pain.
	To amuse themselves further with the cruel scenario, Matt and Ward took up
thin bamboo canes.  Both killers crouched down on one knee, Ward next to
Alina, Matt next to Yvette, and they began to beat the tender inner-thigh meat of the
girls, methodically swatting at them with their canes to make them yank their legs against
the pulley lines and cause intolerable hurt.  Then the men rose up off the floor to cane
the hoisted feet of the sisters, the tender pink soles, attacking with fierce vigor, slicing
dark red welts on the furrowed skin of the wriggling limbs. After a while the teenagers'
thighs and feet were severely welted, welts over welts in Yvette's case, and blood
streamed from the hook-wounds in their cuntlips.  Their stretched bodies provided the
killers with some exquisite visuals as well, perfect nubile female physiques so well
delineated, every anatomical detail of musculature, rib-cage, abdomen and legs so
prominent and exposed, the sixteen year old naturally more developed and mature, the
younger girl, still budding, still child-like - and those pudenda, especially Alina's still
pudgy with baby fat, so exquisitely out-drawn, swollen, dark red, leaking blood and
mucous, violated by the inserted metal hooks, elastic skin tender and torn. 
	This was the kind of shit Black X soldiers lived for.
	Yvette was panting from the exertion of the torture, as if she'd been running on
the track at school - Alina wheezed, still lost in her stoic trance.
	It didn't take long for Matt and Ward to get themselves all worked up with the
suspension-and-caning torture of the Rodriguez sisters.
	They turned on Carmen, who'd been forced to kneel and watch, hands cuffed
behind her, and they swung their bamboo canes sharply across her meaty tits, right
across her nipples.  She tried to swivel out of the way but Ward grabbed her by her
dark disheveled mane to keep her in place.
	"Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" he shouted at her. "Don't you
move away from us - Dumb-ass spic whore - You kneel there and TAKE IT!"
	The hapless ball-gagged latina understood she had no choice but to accept the
punishment. Still she could not help but flinch and twist and jerk, muffled squeals
coming from her with each sharp snap of bamboo on her cinammon-hued skin.
	The canes moved down the front of her shapely maturing body, whapping
and snapping, making a hollow sound as they struck her abdomen, then a flat harsh
percussive slap as they reached her mons and her upper thighs.
	The men were hitting her so hard now that Ward had to hold her up by the hair
or she would unwittingly spin and bend out of harm's way. 
	"Let's do this pig, man," Matt hissed. "Let's fuckin' DO er!"
	The killers dropped the bamboo canes and lifted Carmen between them on to the
couch. They proceeded, as they'd promised themselves earlier, to double-team the sweet-
faced latina.
	While Ward sat back and pulled the dark-skinned welt-streaked teen down on to
his cock, forcing her to straddle his legs as he jammed his stiff fuckpole up her twat, Matt
stood over her, unbuckled and pulled the black ball-gag from her spit-shiny lips, and
began to slap and punch her pretty pouting face, and her big firm jugs, she unable to
fend off his blows, her wrists still cuffed behind her.  Matt did not hold back. He
delivered vicious blows that sent the black-haired teen backward against Ward who
pushed her back up and held her by her hair for Matt to smack again.  Matt leaned in to
punch her big soft breasts and her belly and she rocked and danced on Ward's cock,
soon hilted on the ten inch shaft and sobbing and pleading for mercy, fucked and beaten,
her mouth and nose bloody.  Matt drew back and pounded the spic bitch's face,
breaking her nose and chipping her teeth.
	"Having a nice time, pig?" he snarled at her. "Isn't this the best fuckin'
cheerleader party ever?"
	She stared at him whimpering with terror, riding Ward's huge erection wide-
legged, Ward's hands in her armpits gripping her tightly, making her rise and fall on him. 
	"Well, I hope you're havin' a nice time cause we're sure doing our best to show
ya one..."	
	Gently Matt caressed his beaten victim. He ran his fingers through her long
scraggly mane pushing the hair back away from her face, licking his lips, smirking at her,
moving his hand down to her cheeks over the swelling bruises he'd inflicted. He stroked
himself, got himself ready to penetrate her.  The dark-haired, stubbly chinned killer loved
the sensation of beaten girl skin. He loved everything about it, its moist heat, its tender
redness - he loved the ugly disfiguring marks - evidence of violence - proof of
destruction.  He moved his hand back up her face to touch her thick dark eyebrows, to
trace the broken bridge of her nose down to her busted lips pressing his knuckles into
them as she moaned, moving his hand down her slender neck to her bruised and cane-
welted boobs.
	"Mmmm - Still - a whore like you...I don't know if you appreciate it..."
	The softness and pliability always made him angrier and more aroused and
suddenly, without warning, snarling meanly, he started punching her again.
	Ward reached up to wrap his hands around the teenager's neck as Matt pounded
into her belly and ribcage. When he wasn't beating killmeat himself the blonde killer
enjoyed fucking his prospective victim while someone else did the punishing.  He liked to
thrust into sobbing, bleeding, fist-pounded slut.  And he enjoyed choking the breath from
them and watching them go blue and weak.
	Beating and fucking - that's what the killers did best and they were unquestionably
in their element.  There was no way around it. Carmen Garcia was going down hard.
	Kyla and Stella Dalwell watched in helpless horror.
	Alina and Yvette danced their one-legged coreography of pain, Yvette hoping her
pussy wouldn't be torn to shreds by her dazed younger sister unknowingly pulling
against the taut pulley line.
	Matt moved in and pushed his cock into Carmen's face, unsheathing his knife.	
	She took him instictively in her mouth, gasping for air, Ward still choking her,
she giving out short pitiful cries as Matt began to cut her shoulders and titbags
slicing his knife into her with quick unexpected jabs.
	He liked the way her pretty mouth gaped and twitched around his shaft.
	Her broken nose and dark bruises only added to what he perceived as beauty.
	She bled on his cock and his balls tingled with pleasure.
	Kyla's perspective allowed her only to see Matt's broad back and big strong
buttocks as he face-fucked Carmen.  She caught a glimpse now and again too of Matt's
knife as he brought it back before slicing again, splotched with Carmen's blood. 
	The young girl's life fluid spurted out on the beige couch and on the floor forming
abstract spatter patterns on the tiles.
	Stella from the other side of the room could see Carmen's anguished face tilted
upward, bruised, eyes swollen, lips spread wide to accomodate Matt's massive prick
as he slid in to the hilt to gag her.
	"C'mon - Let's kill the goddamn spic," Ward shouted gruffly unsheathing his
own knife, lifting Carmen by her hair one-handedly to corkscrew his prick now up her
tight asshole.
	"Take her cunt, Matt.  Cut it up. Fuck it."
	Matt pulled out of Carmen's screaming mouth and crouched down to stab her
cunt mound.
	"Unhhhh!" Ward grunted with pleasure as the young girl's asshole tightened
around his shaft in response to the pain Matt was inflicting.  Matt drew several shallow
incisions on Carmen's pretty sex organ then he pulled her pussy flaps open and sliced
them neatly off her, first one then the other while she screamed her head off and rode up
and down on Ward's thickly veined white fuckshaft. Ward slam-pounded her anally
stabbing at her flanks, new riffs of blood etched on the couch and floor and wall.
	"Ghhnnn - aayyyyy!" Carmen screamed as Matt pushed his cock into her sliced
up cunt, crouched before her, she framed between Ward's strong thighs.
	Now she was exactly where she belonged: double-fucked, cute spic bitchcunt,
sandwiched between the raging killers.
	Ward stabbed at the sides of her legs, Matt pinched up her left nipple and began
to slice it off her as he fucked her ramming all ten inches to the hilt in the suffering
cheerleader.
	"Yahhh!" Matt shouted wildly punching the mutilated breast, Carmen's blood
spattering his face and chest.  He licked her nipple off his blade and swallowed the
piece of girlmeat, his eyes now wild.  He stabbed the nipple-less boob repeatedly then
sliced her other nipple from her with a swift downstroke.
	Carmen keened shrilly as Matt randomly stabbed both her cane-welted mutilated
tit-orbs.
	Ward punched his knife into the sides of her belly, gut-wounding her.
	She keeled toward the injured side until Ward straightened her out.	
	The stink of her filled the room.
	"We need to brand er," Ward huffed
	Matt began to slice her butchered tits off her while he fucked her.  The heavy
orbs of girlmeat slid down, ragged, torn, and oozed off her thighs to the couch.  He took
one and brought it into his face to take bites from it.
	She tasted hot, rusty, salty.
	"Goddamn cunt!" Ward shouted pushing her forward by one shoulder to 
pound his knife into her back between her bound arms.  One fierce stab went all the way
through her rib-cage collapsing her lung.  Air hissed and bubbled in the cut.
	Matt countered by slamming his blade right into her belly button, in to the hilt.
	She stared up at him, mouth gaping, her eyes full of hurt.
	Then Ward stabbed the palms of her hands, uncuffed her wrists and pushed the
bleeding female off him and Matt stepped back as Carmen slid weakly to her knees on
the floor. She tried to crawl toward the door, trying to hold herself up on her bleeding
hands, but she collapsed with a sighing groan on her side.  Blood spewed from her lips
and nose.
	The other females felt her weight hit the floor.
	Stella shut her eyes and whimpered.
	Kyla bit her lip and stifled a sob.  Inside she was praying.
	Yvette looked up at the ceiling, her upraised leg cramped, eyes tearfilled, the hook
in her pussy tearing at her as Alina's leg slumped.
	Carmen started to weep.
	"Mami," she croaked weakly. "Mami - ay Mami - me van a matar - me van a
matar, Mami."
	"You got that right," Ward said thickly getting to his feet. "We're definitely
gonna snuff you out - goddamn ghetto spic trash - fuckin' piece of shit -" He turned and
went to the kitchen and out to the grill to pick up the X irons from the glowing coals.
	Carmen reached out across the floor, one bloody arm, one extended knife-slashed
hand toward the dining room, toward nothing, toward the air where she could see her
mother's sad face - and Reinaldo, her brother and Papi, standing by the fence in the back
yard.  
	When she was a little girl they had taken her to Reynosa, a Mexican town across
the Texas border, to a festival.  At the center of the town there were little multicolored
plastic flags fluttering on wires between telephone posts in the wind.  There were children
running.
	"This is where your mother was born, Carmen," mother said. "This is where
I grew up." And mother had given her a tin-foil pinwheel on a little wooden dowel
and the pinwheel had spun in the wind.
	She felt Matt yanking her up by her wrists.
	There was a church and over the altar a statue of Jesus on the cross.  His head
dripped candy-apple scarlet blood-drops from the crown of thorns.
	"N-noo," she begged Matt. "I won't see my mom again. Or my dad. Or my
brother. Please. Let me live. I want to live. Quiero vivir - maaami!"
	"Fuck you, you stinking spic whore," he growled as he buckled the leather wrist
cuff-straps tight, trapping her arms above her.
	When Ward returned Matt had already suspended the young bleeding tit-less
cheerleader for the kill.
	Ward gave Matt one of the irons and he switched on the video cameras.
	The Black X soldiers stepped up to the writhing dark-skinned latina.
	Blood ran down her body from her mutilated chest and from the numerous stab
wounds.  
	"Cha-cha-cha, Carmencita,"Matt sneered.
	She barely had the energy to lift her head and see him push his branding iron into
her legs but the burning pain suddenly energized her and she tilted her head back to let
out a howl.
	As she did, Ward moved in and pressed the burning iron into her face, into both
her beaten cheeks, first one then the other, and then right into her cunt-mound, indelibly
stamping her as Black X bloodmeat, terminal property of the cult.
	Now in a killing frenzy the men put down their branding irons, released the
sobbing dying female from suspension and as she fell defeated to the floor between them
they picked up their bloodied blades and begin stabbing her.
	They stabbed at her legs and sides, at her feet.
	Into her back, and sides, and belly.
	The blades chugged and thugged into girlmeat.
	Ward stood over her, pulled her head up by her hair and sliced her neck open
from ear to ear.
	Her bruised eyes stared upward at the ceiling. She made odd gurgling noises. He
released her and she slumped to the floor then tried to crawl away and bumped into a
chair and rolled on her back  blood jetting from her neck wound.  Pieces of gut spilled
from her sliced up belly.  She contorted, going into a fetal position farting blood and shit,
bits of gutflesh spilling from her.
	Matt leaned over her and stabbed her eyes out with two quick jabs then he moved
in to sit on her bloody face to rub his balls all over it.
	Her arms and legs twitched and there was a breathy rattling coming from her 
severed trachea - she was gradually going still.   As Matt rose off her stroking his
blood-smeared cock, bits of her eyeballs leaking down the inside of his thighs, a death
spasm ran through the dying teenager.
	"Yea-ahh," Ward snarled.
	Carmen saw the spinning pinwheel, spinning silver sunlight dazzling her.
	"Ahg -" she said.  No longer drawing air.
	"Ag -" almost silent.
	Then: "- uu - gg - hhhh -"
	"Nice," Matt whispered.
	Later, one hundred and seventy six separate stab wounds would be counted on
Carmen Rodriguez, though the body would never be seen by any coroner and the
actual injuries and true cause of death would never be recorded in any legal document.
That information, or any accurate information about the murders for that matter, would
never be known publicly.
	There would be no open casket burial for the luckless latina or for any of the other
Cordero Valley cheerleader victims. 
	Both killers stood over the butchered girl, knives in their hands dripping blood,
their bodies drenched with it, both of them jerking off slowly, breathing deeply and
noisily, hearts pounding as they turned smiling to face Stella Dalwell.
	The big-titted blonde's eyes gleamed wide with horror.
	"Nn!" she grunted. "Nn!"  
	"Oh yeah - You're next, cunt," Ward snarled.
	But before he could take a step toward her there was a high pitched beeping from
the dining room.  It was the radar scanner.  Someone had entered the perimeter outside.
	Quickly, Ward sheathed his knife and moved toward the dining room.
	"Get Thad," he told Matt.
	Matt ran up the stairs.
	Dear God, Kyla thought. Dear God, someone's come!
	Yvette looked over at her mother, her eyes questioning, trying to keep her leg
high so as not to injure her sister, hopping occasionally on one foot to alleviate the
tension. The sixteen year old was covered with sweat and in a haze of pain, blood
pouring from the studded dildo in her shithole and from her hook-snagged pussy lips. 
Alina's head sagged down and she drooled open-mouthed her leg tugging down on the
pulley line to her sister's hooked cunt.
	Stella Dalwell sobbed plaintively, her jaw aching from the big ball in her mouth. 
She had actually almost felt those long sharp knives stabbing - had seen the certainty in
the men's slitted eyes.  The sound of the blades tearing and gashing was horrible. In her
mind she kept hearing it over and over and she kept seeing Carmen under attack - and
the smell - the thick stench of blood and guts - it almost made her want to heave. The
men had been coming for her next - but something had interrupted them.  Something or
someone outside. But who could be out there?  Was it possible that someone had seen
the bodies outside in the pool and they'd called the police? Was it possible someone had
heard the screams? Dear God the screams. She would never in a thousand years forget
those screams.
	Let it be over, she prayed. Please Dear Jesus just - let - it - be - over.

	

__________________________________

	
	As Connie Spell walked up to the Rodriguez house she sensed something was
wrong.  Odd garbled sounds and thumps seemed to be coming from inside the house. 
Maybe the girls were watching television or playing video-games -  that might explain
those sounds - but something just didn't feel right.
	She glanced around but there no one around. Beyond the glow of light from the
house there was darkness, shifting shadows, the mysterious sighing sounds of the trees,
the sound of the crickets, a clear starry sky, a melancholy breeze. A few yards away she
could see Kimmie and Michael in the van, their zombie-faces glowing in the eerie glow
from the on-board television screen.
	She went up the front steps past the veranda and pressed the doorbell. 
	Almost instantly, as though she'd been expected, the front door swung back and
the startled woman saw three naked men wielding automatic weapons, with broad black
straps around their waists on which knives and handguns were clipped.
	Two of the men were covered with blood.  One of them, the blonde one who had
opened the door took a step toward her as she backed away fearfully.  She saw
him spin quickly, saw his leg fly up and then something exploded in her face.  She
realized he had just karate-kicked her but everything went out of focus as she flew
backwards and landed on her back in the moist grass.
	In a microsecond her world went all the way black.
	Far away she could hear the door of the van sliding open.
	She could hear Kimmie and Michael screaming.
	They were being beaten. She heard the blows, the struggling -
	More darkness. Immobility.
	Then there were words floating in her head.
	"I'll take er round back - by the pool - Take the fucking kids too."
	A feeling of motion.  She was being dragged across the lawn.
	She came to after the sharp smell of ammonia filled her nostrils.  She was on her
stomach on top of a wooden reclining chair in  the concrete patio area by the pool. She
was confused and didn't know how she'd gotten there. She realized she was naked and
her ankles felt as if they were on fire.
	Bright lights had been switched on filling up the night.
	She could hear the crickets in the trees nearby.
	Somewhere she could still hear Kimmie and Michael crying.
	She tried to focus.  The smell of ammonia made her sick and dizzy.
	The side of her head which had been struck throbbed achingly and felt unnaturally
hot.
	Strong hands grabbed her by her hair and shoulders lifting her.
	The world swam and swirled.
	"On your knees, fuckface," a dark vicious voice said behind her.
	She was made to crouch there, shivering, realizing again that her clothes were
gone, the night air cold on her skin, and there was heat and wetness around her sore
heels.
	Ward stood over the naked white female on the chair straddling her bleeding legs,
a long wooden-handled machete in hand. 
	He'd looked at the wallet in the bitch's purse after he'd kicked her unconscious to
find out who the fuck she was. He'd discovered she was Tori Spell's mother, a slightly
overweight suburban mom, the kind that books time at the health spa but hardly ever
shows up there - far below par for what the cult considered viable meat.  But tonight the
chunky pale-skinned blonde and her children would be fodder for the Black X cult
killers.  That was an irreversible reality.
	After leaning over her to revive her with the disposable packet of ammonium
nitrate the killer put his cock between her meaty asscheeks and pressed it against her
rectal pucker.
	She was still dazed but as she sensed his intention she moaned weakly and tried to
move away.  He held her by her hair, pressed the sharp blade against her back, and told
her to keep still and look across the pool.
	What she saw froze her instantly.
	Kimmie and Michael stood on the diving board, back to back, naked and crying.
	Both children were covered with dark bruises and red slash-welts.
	Matt and Thad had driven small metal hooks through little Michael's balls and
through Kimmie's virgin pussy lips. They'd connected the two sets of hooks with wire
and they'd also wrapped wire around the necks of the children, and around their waists
and ankles tying them to each other.  They'd also wire-bound the children's wrists to
their thighs so tightly that even from across the pool Connie could see the tiny drops of
blood dribbling down their legs as well as from their hook-pierced genitalia. 
	After tying their helpless victims together, the killers had gotten a couple of long
steel nails and hammered one nail through the little boy's big toe and one through the
little girl's, effectively nailing them to the diving board.
	The little scumbags weren't going anywhere.
	"I'm gonna fuck you and you're gonna take it," Ward told Connie. "Or they
die."
	Connie's children were going to die anyway but he needed the threat to insure her
submission. 
	Connie let out a strangled cry and turned her head to look at her machete-armed
captor.
	As she did so she saw her slashed ankles and understood the pain she'd been
feeling. Both her ankles had been sliced and blood was pouring from the wounds. 
	Connie's horror was further stoked when she turned her head to look again at her
children and now saw the five slaughtered female bodies floating in the pool.
	When she recognized that one of the bodies was her daughter she lost all control
of herself.
	"Toriieeeee!" she screamed hysterically.
	She was still weak from the knockout kick Ward had landed on her face and her
arms sagged; she collapsed forward on the chair, still on her knees, her ass high, and
Ward seized the opportunity to thrust his cock into her asshole grabbing her by one hip
to begin the brutal sodomy of the chubby white-skinned suburban female.  
	He was not surprised to find her virgin-tight. The stupid bitch had never been
fucked up the ass.
	Matt and Thad meanwhile had taken up dart guns.  These were black metal
handguns specially designed by a Black X weapons expert. A cartridge of compressed air
powered the ejector which was able to send the cylindrical metal missiles to their target
with perfect accuracy up to a range of fifty feet.
	 Standing less than ten yards from their captive targets the killers began to take
shots at Connie's children on the diving board. The darts were two inch long slivers of
metal and the guns made a short-burst coughing noise as they pumped out one dart at a
time. The two killers took turns aiming their weapons at the children's thighs and legs,
firing fifteen darts into each helpless screaming victim, trying to knock them off the
board and into the water. Kimmie and Michael jerked and shook as the darts thudded
into them, sharp steel slivers embedded in their smooth skin.  Kimmie wailed repeatedly
as Thad aimed his weapon at her ass and fired twelve darts into her creamy little cheeks. 
Matt concentrated on trying to hit Michael's baby penis.  He'd scored several misses and
the darts bristled all over the boy's groin and lower belly. Blood now fairly streamed
down both kids' legs.
	Before putting them up on the diving board and while Connie had still lain
unconscious by the front door of the house Matt and Thad had raped and sodomized
both children, Thad already aroused from his takedown of Kyla's youngest daughter,
Matt violently excited by the killing of  Carmen.  Both killers gave vent to their worst
demons punching little Michael's genitals until they swelled dark purple, his little pecker
bleeding and they rammed their fists into Kimmie's virgin slit.  They slapped and
punched and kicked and fucked both kids in the semi-darkness of the front lawn of the
Rodriguez house after they'd ripped their clothes off. They bit their little legs and hands
and feet drawing blood.  Kimmie had tried to run into the woods but Matt had caught
her and dragged her back by one leg. He'd busted her cherry while pushing her face into
the gravel of the access road next to the van's left front tire. Thad had punched the boy
in the face leaving him half conscious - then the killer had rammed his prick into his
victim's tight little shithole literally fucking the crap out of him. 
	After hogtying the unconscious Connie with packaging rope, just to make sure she
wouldn't go anywhere if she happened to come around, Ward had joined the two killers
in the sexual attack on the hapless children.  They all took turns cheering each other on
and slamming their cocks into little Michael's butthole and then into Kimmie's. They all
filled Kimmie's little vagina until it cried blood.  They choked Kimmie unconscious and
tied little Michael to the front bumper of the van and whipped him viciously with their
bamboo canes. They whipped his little balls and penis, shredding the tender skin. They
hung his sister from the luggage rack bar on the van's roof by one foot, draped over the
side of the vehicle, and slashed into her as well making her shriek and kick and twist and
thump against the side windows.
 	After nearly an hour the killers dragged their naked, bitten, whipped, bruised and
horror-stricken child victims around to the other side of the house.  Ward had turned on
the floodlights that lit up the whole pool area.  
	"What do we do with em?" Thad had asked.
	"Let's use them for dart-gun practice," Matt suggested. "We hardly ever use
those fuckin' things."
	So the killers got the wire and the hooks and they'd set up their little living targets
on the end of the diving board over the deep end of the pool.
	The children screamed and pled and called for their mother when they were
shoved out on the board and they saw the naked murdered girls floating below. 
Their horror turned to stark sobbing grief as they realized one of the bodies was their
sister Tori. The grief returned to shrieking pain as their little feet were nailed to the
board, toe-bones shattered under the pounding hammer.
	Meanwhile, Ward had untied Connie, ripped her clothes from her and dragged her
by an arm from the front of the house to the pool area. She'd been out long enough. He
wanted her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed so that she could watch the takedown of the
children.  Instead of tying her up again he'd severed both her achilles tendons with the
machete to keep her from running. He'd then pressed the disposable packet of
ammonium nitrate to her nose to bring her around. 
	Now he pushed his shaft into her tight, so-right, please-fuck-me-all-night asshole,
pushed deep and pressed the cold machete blade to her back. 
	"Did you tell anyone you were coming here?" he asked her.
	She sobbed mindlessly.
	"Talk to me pig," he snarled pressing the blade into her white shoulder cutting
her. "Does anyone know you're here?"
	"No - ohh God - no - no one -"
	He continued to thrust into her, filling her.  Her slashed feet rubbed blood on his
knees.
	"Make me believe you, cunt."
	"I swear. I swear. No one. There's no one."
	"That's nice. So no one's gonna come looking for you or your children, right?"
	She sobbed and shook her head realizing with dread the implication of what she
was telling him. 
	" - No one -" she said softly.
	There would be no one. She and her children belonged to the killers.
	He began to thrust in and out of her.
	Across the pool the dart guns coughed and Kimmie and Michael screamed. Thad
scored placing three darts in little Michael's battered penis, slicing it open and he now
concentrated on the boy's nipples.  Matt was going for Kimmie's cute blue eyes which
gleamed with tears reflecting the bright floodlights.  He put six darts in her cheeks and 
two in her forehead.  For a change of pace he targeted the little girl's cane-welted belly. 
After he shot twelve shafts into that area he returned to her face.
	Connie watched the destruction of her children in horrified awe.  The muted dry
sound the guns made followed by the cries of the dart-pierced children were horrible
beyond words.  Their suffering faces, their bodies, studded with steel shafts - she was
stunned and bewildered by the sheer depravity of it.
	"Why?!" she screamed suddenly. "Why are you doing this to us? Where's Kyla?
Where are the others?"
	"Too many fuckin' questions," Ward spat.  He raised the machete and whipped
her across the shoulderblades. Blood from the impact spattered his chest and belly.
	She screamed in pain and looked back at him trying to propel herself away but he
held her easily.
	"Way too many fuckin' questions."
	And he slashed her again.
	Matt put the first dart in Kimmie's right eye. The child's head swung back as
if she'd been punched and her eyeball exploded in a red burst of blood.  She was almost
knocked off the board but her nailed-down foot kept her from losing her balance.
	Thad and Matt cheered.
	Thad had put darts deep in little Michael's chest now, fifteen of them and the killer
was going for the face, the baby cheeks - and yes, those pretty brown eyes.
	Both killers stroked themselves as they shot at the children.  Torturing and killing
such innocent victims was extraordinarily pleasurable, especially for Thad.  And these
killings were just an added unexpected bonus to the savage murder spree already well
under way at the Rodriguez house. First the cheerleader squad and now this. Their luck
couldn't have been better.
	Ward whipped Connie Spell with the machete, taking it slow, dealing out well-
calculated half-strength strokes that made his blade graze her flesh but not cut deep..  He
now hilted his prick in her asshole and held her in place, his fingers clawing into her hip,
and called her vile names as he swung the machete lightly against her thighs.  He liked
the way the sharp metal split the skin leaving thin dripping lines on her. When it went in
he had to yank it out to hit her again. He liked the sound it made -  slish-thunk - as if he
was blade-fucking a piece of beef. He began to time its rhythm to the rhythm of his cock
now pistoning wetly in her tight ass.
	Slish-thunk. Slish-thunk.
	"Suffer for me, you stinking bitchh!" he roared as he blade-whipped her fat
ass.  He liked that she was meaty.  She would be able to take a lot.
	Matt shot ten more darts in Kimmie's face and into the side of little Michael's
head before hitting Kimmie's other eye.
	The little girl swiveled from one side to the other in response to the injury and as
she did Thad got his first score on Michael's eye.  Blood squirted from the little boy's
head.
	Again the men cheered, all three this time.
	It seemed both children would topple off the board at any moment but somehow
they kept regaining their balance.  The killers enjoyed that. The longer their victims
survived and stood there taking the torture the more pleasure the men could derive from
the killing.
	"Let's brand em," Thad suggested.
	Matt went to the grill and brought the X' irons.
	The killers had positioned one of the cameras that had been in the living room
just outside the kitchen to capture all the action poolside.  The red recording light
blinked intermittently as the camera recorded.
	With his one unpierced eye little Michael could see the winking light across the
pool.
	He was crying and shaking feverishly, the hooks in his little balls tugging as
Kimmie moved around.
	"Waaahhhh!" he bawled. "Mammaahhh -"
	His cry was cut short as Thad put a dart in his open mouth, one in his lower lip
and then another one in his shoulder.
	"Good fuckin' shooting!" Matt commented handing Thad the branding iron.
	"Little cocksucker still has one good eye," Thad lamented.
	"Well, then - Go for it," Matt urged.
	Thad took careful aim.  The shot would not be an easy one. The boy was not
standing still.  He and the girl were weaving from side to side drunkenly in a stupor of
pain and confusion.  
	Thad liked the way little Kimmie looked now, her eyes shot out, darts all over her
little face and body.  He was violently aroused and couldn't wait to finish the murder of
the two babies so that he could go back upstairs and continue with sweet Isabel.  Oh
yeah, Isa was going to get it now and get it in fucking spades.  Killing the Spell children
had put him in a real ugly mood and Kyla's daughter was gonna be made to pay.
	"- Stay still you little fuck - stay still -" he muttered, aiming his weapon at Michael
with one hand and holding the Black X branding iron in the other.
	"Please," Connie was begging. "Please don't kill my children. Please don't kill my
children."
	Ward was slicing cut lines over the cut lines already on her back.
	She was bleeding all over the chair.
	Each time he cut her, her asshole tightened forcefully around his cock.  He began
to time each cut with each inthrust.  After a while he was caught up in a slow purposeful
rhythm of destruction, entranced, high as a kite, with killing pleasure. 
	It was rare that things worked out so well. Not only had he blown Tori Spell's
neck with his pistol and watched the pretty goth blonde cheerleader choke to death on
her own blood while Matt fucked her up the ass but now he was cutting her momma to
pieces and fucking her  up the ass and watching his friends kill Tori's little sister and
brother.  
	The killers were eliminating the whole goddamn Spell clan. It was just fucking
awesome.
	"Mikey," Kimmie was muttering. "Mikey - it hurts - all over - hurts - can't see,
Mikey - where's mum? - oww - muhmm? "
	"Ghmm!" Michael responded unable to talk, the metal darts piercing through his
tongue and into the roof of his mouth, through his lip and cheeks.  He could still see that
little red light blinking on the video camera just outside the kitchen - he was facing the
house, looking at it across the length of the pool, while Kimmie faced in the opposite
direction, toward the dark cluster of trees on the edges of the property. The boy pressed
back against his sister's body and felt her shoulderblades against his. His knees sagged
slightly.  He felt the nail tug against his broken toe.
	"Gh?" he uttered senselessly. "Gh?"
	For an instant the children stood perfectly still, balanced, and Thad seized the
oppportunity and pulled the trigger.
	Little Mikey choked as a flash of blinding silver exploded in front of him, the
image of the blinking video camera wiped away, the dart piercing right into his soft brain
gouging out his cute brown eye. 
	"Yeahh!" the killers shouted. Both men put down the dart guns and moved
toward the diving board, X irons in hand. 
	The impact of the dart in his eye knocked Mikey back against his sister then he
bounced off her and the metal hooks ripped both his little balls open and he screeched
and little Kimmie screeched in unison with him as her pussy lips tore and bled and then
they felt the weight of the monsters on the board with them -
	" - little scumbags -" the children heard one of the men say.
	Connie was screaming, babbling.
	" - let's slam those X's deep," the other man said gruffly.
	- and Kimmie felt the man grab her by the hair and then she felt a horrible
burning, something pressing into her chest and deep into her skin and then into the side
of her face and she was pissing herself and Mikey felt the burning into his shoulder and
belly and they heard Mom screaming and begging and they heard the vibrant whang,
whang, whang of Ward's machete.
	 - because Ward had stopped slicing and now he'd started whipping again.
	A little harder now.
	Connie Spell's blood flew.
	He slammed the machete across her hand and sliced her fingers off.
	On the diving board the children teetered, ready to fall into the bloody water
below, the pool now thick with it.  It flowed from the bodies of the five dead cheeleaders,
Tori Kathleen, Dora - Abigail, shackled in metal and wood - and finally Carmen, dragged
from the house after the children were nailed to the diving board and the video camera
was set up, butchered spic cunt tossed in with her murdered friends.
	The two killers stepped back off the board, returned the X brands to the grill. 		
	 Matt went in the house for the baseball bat in the box of torture devices.
	"Yeah," Ward snarled when he saw Matt come out of the house with the new
weapon heading purposefully for the kids on the board. "Smack em out of the ballpark,
dude. All the fuckin' way outta here, man."
	Thad watched Matt go on the board.  He watched Ward whipping Connie
with the machete.  He stroked himself rapidly now, demandingly - he needed little Isa,
needed her like junkie needs a fix but he also needed to see what was about to happen.
	Matt stepped out on the diving board, his toes gripping the slick polished
surface, his legs planted one in front of the other as he took the batters stance, swung
slowly to measure the swing, touched the tip of the bat gently to the side of Kimmie's
head. Her eyeless X' branded face was looking at him.
	"Wha -?" she whimpered, turning from side to side, her blonde, blood-matted hair
sticking to her bloody dart-riddled cheeks.  "Wh -?"
	She'd been sitting in the van, angry with her mom for coming to the Rodriguez
house trying to watch some stupid cartoon when the side door had flown open and the
monsters had been there, naked and covered with blood. "Hey kids!" one of the
monsters had said. "Its playtime!"And they'd pulled them out on the grass and she'd
tried to run but they were so strong and their fists had slammed into her, and their hands
had choked her, and they'd put their things up into her and into Mikey, and they bit her
and she was so scared, so scared, mommy, the darkness, Mikey crying and screaming,
the monsters beating her as she hung upside down, scared mommy, when they tied her
to Mikey and brought them out on the diving board and the lights came on and and and
and - Tori floating in the water - and - Mikey crying - and mommy naked over there, the
monster hitting her with the big knife - then the hammer slamming the big nail into her
footsie - and the sharp metal things stinging into her like giant bees - into Mikey - into
their faces and eyes -
	She felt the shift of weight on the board as Matt hauled back.
	- and scared - so scared - can't see -
	"Mommie?"
	The killer heard her say the word, a weak whimper, as he pulled back, her hair
sticking to his bat wetly, hair strands lifted momentarily then fluttering back down.
	"Mommie's busy," he growled.
	With all his strength the killer swung.  
	The bat, a full-sized regulation Louisville slugger, wooshed through the air in a
perfect arc and smashed with an ugly wet smack into little Kimmie Spell's head bashing
in the side of her skull and killing her instantly.  The driving force of Matt's swing also
sent Kimmie up into the air, her foot ripped in half on the nail in the diving board as her
body leaped into space yanking little brother with her, his nailed foot providing just
enough inertia, his toe snapped off at the joint as he joined his sister midair, but also
yanked her back so that both children's heads bounced against the side of the diving
board on the way down, a double thump, this blow finishing the little boy who would still
be breathing as both martyred children went into the water, Mikey quietly drowning as
the weight of his dead sister dragged him toward the bottom.  The children's bodies as
they spalshed into the pool would displace two of the corpses already floating there and
make the rest bob around restlessly, the cadavers of the cheerleaders executing an out-of-
sync coreography, a morbid mirror-image of the energized, purposeful and youthful
movements they'd been forced to perform for the killers on their last day of life.
	"Hey, Cordero, what do you say? Hey, Cordero, we say HEY..."
	Connie shrieked as she saw Kimmie and Mike swatted off the diving board and
she leaped forward off the chair, off Ward's cock to drag herself across the concrete
patio toward the pool, wailing and sobbing and bleeding.
	She collapsed at the pool's edge, her arms, her finger-less hand in the water
reaching for Tori as she floated by,  Momma Spell babbling unintelligibly.
	The men watched her, circled around her, Matt still had the blood-stained bat in
his hand, Ward the bloody-bladed machete.
	"What should we do with er?" Ward asked.
	"Why don't you guys finish her?" Thad said. "Take your time. Make er last for a
while. I've got something waiting for me upstairs."
	Matt smiled.
	"Baby Isabel," he said nodding approvingly.
	"Yeah, dude," Thad asserted. "Baby Isabel.  Gotta finish what I started."
	"Do what you gotta do," Ward said. "We'll take care of this cunt. You can watch
it all on video later, if you want."
	"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Thad said. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
	The men chuckled as Thad turned and headed for the house.

__________________________________


	Kyla's hopes for rescue were dashed.
	After the killers had gone to the door she'd heard the screams and the terrible
sounds outside but she wasn't sure who was there or what was happening.  She'd heard
a woman scream out Tori's name - It could be Connie Spell and her two children, Kyla
thought,  Kimmie and Michael. Ward had come in earlier and she'd seen him take a
machete from one of the crates.
	She'd watched Matt come in the living room a few times, first for one of the
cameras and for wire and metal hooks, like the ones the killers had pierced into Yvette
and Alina. Then he'd come back for Carmen, dragging her out of the house, over the
floor by the her hair, leaving behind a gruesome trail of smears, entrails, and bloody
footprints. After a while he'd come back for two odd looking guns from the crate on the
dining room table.  And finally he'd come in to rummage through the same box of
torture devices to find a baseball bat.
	The screams of the children outside had nearly driven Kyla insane. She'd closed
her eyes tightly after a while.
	Now, Kyla realized she no longer heard the children.  She'd heard loud thumps
and splashing and screams. More victims in the pool, she thought.  More pleasure for the
sadistic killers.
	She and Stella had looked at each other across the room, ball-gagged and unable
to speak, tensely stiff each time one of the killers walked in or out, the females
empathetically jumping to the harsh sounds of torture coming from outside.
	Alina and Yvette seemed to be dozing or unconscious.  Kyla could hear their
deep even breaths and drool dripped from their ball gags in thin lines to the floor.  The
two girls had reached a point of stasis, frozen in their one-leg-high position like
ballerinas posing for a photograph.
	Painful cramps shimmied up and down Kyla's upstretched arms and arched feet
and calves.  Her jaw ached intensely from the ball-gag into which she bit now and then
to relieve the pain as well as the stress and terror.  And her bladder was bursting. If the
killers didn't release her she would have to piss herself to find relief.
	She heard bare feet padding toward her and turned to see Thad standing over her.
	The look in his eyes was spacey.  He was high, his lids heavy, his lips slightly
swollen.
	He just stared at her saying nothing then he grabbed her breasts one in each hand
and leaned down to suck from each of her nipples.  When his mouth was smeared with
her milk he slid down to kiss her pregnant belly.  He continued to hold her by her tits as
he did so his big cock pressing against her ankles as she hung there in helpless
suspension, ball-gagged, arms numb, up on her toes, looking across the room to see
Stella turn away.  His powerful hands moved off her tits and he cupped her belly
squeezing, looking up at her with murderous intent.  It felt as though her bladder would
explode and the fetus kicked out as it (she) sensed pressure.
	"Ohhh," Thad moaned, smiling sickly.  "That  was nice."
	He rose slowly and stood over her again, his hands sliding off her.
	Gently he pulled the ballgag from her lips and left it dangling around her neck.
	Unexpectedly he leaned in and smeared his lips on hers then he unsheathed his
knife and brought it to her face.
	It was spattered with blood and brownish flecks.
	"Lick it clean," he ordered.
	She trembled involuntarily and as he presented his weapon she obeyed realizing
that the brown stuff on the blade was shit, her tongue tentatively moving over the cold
length of the sharp serrated steel, wiping up the messy residue, an expression of disgust
on her face.
	"Can you taste her?" he asked when she finished, still holding the knife close to
her mouth.
	She looked at him, puzzled, dreading the consideration of any possible reply.
	"Hmm?" he said, his brows arching slightly.
	He was an extremely handsome man and under any other circumstances she
would have felt herself attracted to him.  He was what her friend Anna Laura defined as
a pussy-melter. A guy who just by looking at you could almost make you cum. But she
felt only terror hovered threateningly over her, waiting for her answer.
	"Don't you know the taste of your own child?" he asked.
	Her eyes suddenly clouded over with fresh tears.
	"Isa -" she whispered, her lips quivering.
	He sheathed the knife.
	"That's right, mom.  I dirtied my blade on your scummy little five year old. But I
didn't kill her - not yet anyway - She and I still have a ways to go."
	He reached up and shoved the ballgag back into her mouth, readjusting and
tightening the strap.
	" - a long ways..."
	"Ghh!" she protested.
	"Oh I know you'd like to watch but I'm real sorry..."
	He was moving toward the dining room.
	She swung around to watch him and saw him return, a thick crowbar now in his
hand.
	He turned just as he climbed the first step.
	"You see, mom, Isa and I - well - I don't know - we just haven't bonded yet."
	"Gh! Gh!" she snorted angrily, stamping her bound feet against the tiled floor.
	The killer laughed, turned away and climbed the stairs. 

__________________________________


	Isa lay just as he'd left her, kneeling on the bloody sheets and quilt, her gouged
little ass up in the air, her arms up on the bedpost and her head dangling between them,
his single-tail still wrapped around her neck. Thad put the heavy crowbar down and
leaned it against the wall by the door. Save the best for last, he thought.  He then stepped
up close to study the damage he'd already done on the five year old. He touched the
nasty gash that had been her little asshole.  The blood had coagulated thickly around the
wound.  He dipped one finger in it and raised it to his lips to taste her.
	The taste made him stroke himself slowly.  It was a real struggle to not take out
his knife and cut the child to pieces on the bed.  Or to go back to the door, pick up the
crowbar and use it on her indiscriminately.
	But his training kicked in and he managed to convince himself to stick to the plan.
	Little Isabel was in a daze but he knew it wouldn't take long to snap her out of it.
	He slapped her ascheeks a few times and she jumped and started whimpering as
he knelt on the bed and untied the electrical cord from the bedpost.
	"Owww!" she protested. "Hurts - Hurts!"
	"You're gonna hurt a lot worse in a minute, you little bitch," he told her as he got
up off the bed and half dragged her across the room to the bathroom door.
	" - a lot fuckin' worse..."
	He hoisted her up on the door, facing it, pulling the electrical cord up over the
top edge of the door and over, lifting her easily off her feet by her upraised arms and
bound wrists, tying off the cord around the inside doorknob.
	He quickly unwrapped the single-tail from around her neck and stepped back.
	He watched her hang helplessly in midair.
	The dark red imprint his spanking hand had left on her little asscheeks made his
breath catch.
	"Down!" she cried. "Down!"
	The whip dangled from his hand. He took another step back.
	Then, taking aim he raised the lash.  He was standing about seven feet from the 
suspended five year old and there was nothing in the room around him to impede
a full swing -
	- so he drew back and swung.
	The single-tail sang through the air and its knotty tail tore across Isa's lower
back.
	She gave out a sharp squeal and her little feet kicked at the door.
	He drew back and swung again, a little harder this time.
	She squealed louder trying unsuccesfully to climb the door, repelling against it.
	He was pretty sure Kyla would hear but just in case he swung even harder the
third time.
	He didn't want mom to miss out on baby's night of pain.
	And, besides, he wanted the little door-hung cunt to hurt.

__________________________________


	Out by the pool Matt kicked Connie Spell over on her back.
	He was still holding the bat he'd used on Connie's daughter's head.
	Ward stood there and watched his friend put the thick end of the slugger to
Connie's blonde cunt.
	"I think we need to open this pig up some, Ward. Don't you?"
	"Sure. She needs to be opened wide."
	Connie looked up at the killers.  Her eyes were glassy.  She was in shock.
	Three fingers of her right hand were gone and blood was spurting from the
stumps and from the numerous cuts and slashes Ward's machete had left across her back
and ass and thighs.
	"Make er beg for it," Ward said studying the sweet-faced blonde woman.
	Matt leaned down as he pressed the thick wood into the dazed bitch.
	"You heard the man, pig," he told her. "Beg me. Say fuck me with the bat, sir.
Understand?"
	Connie saw his mouth moving, heard the words but couldn't connect.
	She brought her bleeding hand to her face to look at it.
	Matt leaned down further pushed her mutilated hand away and slapped her hard.
	"Say it!" he snarled.
	She started crying weakly.  Her mind was desintegrating, exploding into small
pieces like scattered confetti.
	The killer wanted her to beg for it - he wanted to put the bat he'd just killed her
babies with inside her - and maybe he should - maybe she had this coming - if it hadn't
been for her stupid worrying Kimmie and Michael would be alive now - instead of
floating in the pool with Tori.  She brought them here.  She brought her children here to
die.
	- all her children - 
	- dead -
	"Fuck me -" she blurted, the words spilling out of her before she could control 
them. "Nnngg - f-fuck me with the - with the b-bat - sir."
	"Very good," Matt replied. "Didn't know you were still with us - and so 
glad that you are -"
	And as he finished he shoved the thick end of the Louisville slugger into the
blonde woman's twat, struggling to jam it in as she cried out and shook her head
from side to side but kept her legs wide, feet arched, arms reaching out on the bloody
concrete.
	Ward continued to observe the machete-whipped blonde.
	He hadn't expected her masochistic surrender but it pleased him greatly. It opened
up new possibilities.
	She was capable of giving - the question was whether she would be capable of
giving all he and Matt needed to take.


__________________________________


	Little Isa babbled and shrieked as Thad's whip tore into her.
	The killer struck with methodical strokes spaced seconds apart and the child
kicked and thumped against the closed bathroom door.
	Thad watched her lift her feet on to the door, her left knee up on the  white knob
and then he'd send the lash across her chunky little ass and she'd slide down
again and hang by her wrists.  He snapped the lash up from the ground at her,
at the back of her legs, at the soles of her feet, at her back.  He hacked at her with
it, side to side, left to right - pause - right to left. He whipped Isa with no less
fury than if she was an adult victim.  If anything he whipped her with more
cruelty, employing more force and far more viciousness, feeding on her
wailing whirling innocence.  
	She reacted with delightful energy screaming for her mother and father and sisters
repeatedly, screaming at the top of her lungs, scraping her throat and
coughing up phlegm, drooling and snivelling.  But Thad was relentless and unforgiving,
oblivious to her protests, focusing only on the heartless whoosh and smack of hard
leather across her diminutive body.
	Her violated asshole had started to bleed again and as her legs sometimes
spread apart he could see the dark maroon slash he'd cut in her with his knife.  But the
thinner cuts his single-tail was leaving vied for his attention.  He marked her with brutal
need, each horizontal strike across her little calves or thighs, each welt across her
asscheeks and back and shoulders another blow for male justice, his hatred nourished by
the pain he was meting out.
	Was the world a place illuminated by love and trust, or were love and trust and
charity up on that door getting cut to pieces?  Was Black X elemental evil or
a cleansing force pushed through the world like an acid enema?  Thad felt the 
power of what he was doing, the sense of wilful abandon of all that was fair and just,
as an unspeakable adventure - he was a true soldier, a pioneer for an obsessive
cause. He was, or had become as always when the killing need surged so
strongly, a force of nature, an act of God.
	People clung to positive ideas of family and religion and goodness toward their
fellow creatures.  But the universe was based on no such credo.  From distant
stars that eradicated entire chunks of matter each time they went into supernovas
and became black holes to the smallest plankton in the ocean, life feeding on life - what
Thad understood, because Trevor had allowed him to unleash his mind and 
think outside the box, what all Black X soldiers deeply understood, was that
there was an elemental justice in the universe - there was chaos versus order -
but both chaos and order were flip sides of the same coin.
	The sweet baby girl Isabel did not deserve the treatment the killer was dishing out,
not in the human universe with its ironclad perceptions of good and evil, not
with its wishy-washy pollyanna morality which lately was just a cover for the
selfish greed of monopolizing corporations.  But in the real world of matter 
and light, of substance and chemistry, she deserved to be cut to ribbons - no
question about it.  She belonged to the killer and the killer's pleasure was her
suffering.  Therefore her suffering was not only necessary - it was absolutely
sanctified.
	Male justice.
	Male pleasure.
	Male victory.
	Thad growled and slashed his little puppy's flanks then he stepped up to her and
swung her around so that she would face him.
	He wanted to look into her crying suffering face and he wanted to land
some sharp leather across that little torso and those little nipples, across her
small belly and thighs.
	"Look at me!" he shouted at her as he stepped away and drew the lash back.
	And she did, her brown lost puppy eyes shedding silvery tears, her dark
brows arched, her hair chaotically entangled around her upraised arms - she did look
at him, pleadingly - innocent angel so unjustly treated.
	And he swung the whip hard across her chest. 
	He punished her as if punishment were love - as if seething sexual hatred was
adoration - as if by beating her he could change and eradicate all the laws of 
the human condition.
	Her little legs kicked out then twisted under her to push her away from the door
the child arching herself, steeling herself for each fresh blow, her eyes looking
for the whip as it came for her - such terror, such sweet divine terror - looking
at the whip then back at him after the whip bit her - as if somehow the whip was
an animal he had on a leash which kept lunging out and attacking her and she
expected him to rein it in, to shield her from its fury.  Sometimes there was surprise
as well as pain, as if she were discovering just how much the blows could hurt,
how much pain was possible in this world, how much mind-shattering, soul-breaking pain
there could be.  He liked that. He relished the thought that he was teaching her, showing
her the way and the light, raping her safe little soul, breaking her open like
some small delicate glass doll under the smack of a heavy metal mallet. Yeah,
breaking her open for his own sense of power and perfection.
	Knowingly he slashed at her babycunt with the knotted end of the singletail
waiting for the moment her little legs would fly apart at just the right angle - up from the
floor - curl, uncurl and snappp!  He punished that worthless little pussy that he had
already fucked with his cock and would most likely fuck again, that tiny little
pink orifice that would never grow to womanhood.  Beat it. Slash it. Hurt it.
Make it burn.
	Hurt you babygirl. Hurt you. Hurt you. Hurt you.
	He whips her so much harder now that he can look right into her pretty eyes -
right into her guileless soul.
	Now he takes. He feeds. He uses.
	Isa flails and dances spasmically.
	The child bleeds fresh from deep whipcuts across the front of her body.
	Goodness and mercy will not follow her to the end of her days.
	No fucking way.
	Three good cuts lay her thighmeat open.
	Two more real nice ones across her belly.
	One nipple is cut open.
	And before he can strike again Thad knows he needs to drop the whip and take
her to another level.
	The child is his vehicle now, a blood-filled consecrated chalice of life ready to
receive his most atrocious desires.

__________________________________


	Out by the pool Ward grabbed Connie by the top of her head, yanked her up on
her knees by her thick blonde hair and said:
	"Open your mouth. Wide."
	He held her there and lifted his cock to aim a pungent flow of piss right down
her gurgling throat. The rippling stream of fluid glistened in the glow of the patio
floodlights. First contact with the hot unsavory fluid made Connie give out a short gasp
and she visibly jerked but she stayed where Ward placed her.  Matt joined in and both
males used the machete-slashed bitch for their toilet.  
	As they urinated on her Ward released her and she made no attempt to move
away; she remained subserviently posed and unresponsive. Half of the bat Matt had used
to kill Connie's young daughter protruded from her  cunt.  A single droplet of blood ran
down the wooden handle to the grip base, soon joined by a gush of manpiss which came
flooding down Connie's belly and finally by the broken female's own urine triggered by
the sensation of the steamy liquid on her skin. The killers laughed meanly training their
hissing streams on her cheeks and eyes, following the contours of her pretty face up into
her straw-yellow hair, plastering her scalp, dark brothy rivulets running down her ears
and neck to her shoulders and down her sides and arms.  They pissed on her tits and
belly and on her cunt and legs.  They walked around her pissing on her, their acrid
discharge burning on the cut-up skin of her back and asscheeks and she just knelt there
and took it, arms limply at her sides, her sliced-up feet twisted under her legs.
	"Keep it open, pig," Ward told her moving in, crouching slightly, his erect cock
spraying a long thin flow into her open gurgling mouth - " - wide open -" moving
closer, the head of his cock sliding past her lips, still spewing piss - " -mmmmm -"
all the way in her mouth, her cheeks filling, his urine streaming out of her nostrils
as she gagged, choked, looked up at him, but stayed put for him, arms still at her sides,
hands clenched against the sides of her legs, her one fingerless hand spurting blood on
the ground next to her - " - ahh - swallow - swallow - good bitch - real nice -" Ward
pulling out, his cock now dribbling as Matt moved in - Ward  stepping back saying 
" - yeah, Matt - put it in her throat - keep pissing in there - swallow him, whore - drink it
all - fucking pig - look at er - she fuckin' loves it, don't cha, pig? - yeah - you fuckin'
love this shit - Drink it! - Get your knees wider - sink down on that bat - yeahh - let it
push up into you - lower - c'mon - keep swallowing -" Ward rubbing his slimy, still-
pissing cock on the side of her face, Connie keeping her mouth open, obediently
crouching lower, the base of the bat against the concrete, the club end pushing up into
her twat, Matt pissing on the O' formed by her lips and on her cheeks until he ran
empty.
	Then they stood over her, shaking the last drops  from their tumescent
pricks out on her, she now kneeling in a piss puddle, propped up by the bat in her cunt,
as they worked themselves back up to full erections.
	"What are we gonna do with this scumbag?" Matt asked.
	"I don't fuckin' know, man. You got any ideas?"
	"Just askin' cause this is your show, know what I'm sayin'?"
	"Not a problem. Spell and her stinking babies weren't on my master plan so feel
free to improvise - Hell, you and Thad did real nice with the kids on the diving
board.  Sometimes spur of the moment shit is the best. Don't you think so, Connie?
Huh? Isn't it better sometimes when shit just fuckin' happens?"
	She looked up at him as if he were speaking in another language, her blue eyes
lost, piss dripping from her hair, down her face, from her lips, down her chin.
	"I know you can hear me, pig," Ward said calmly. "Answer the question."
	Slowly she nodded before forming any words.
	Agreement, condescension, surrender - it was all that was possible now.
	"Y-yes, sir. Some - sometimes its better when - when shit - when shit j-just
happens."
	"So glad we're in agreement here. What made you come tonight anyway?"
	"I - I was wor-worried about - about -"
	"Worried about Tori? - You didn't have to be. She's been dead for hours."
	Connie's eyes teared up and spilled fresh moisture into the two dark mascara lines
that ran down her cheeks.
	"Tori?" she whimpered.
	Matt chuckled.
	"Kimmie? Michael?" she questioned in an even smaller voice looking from one
killer to the other, kneeling between them.
	"C'mon, bitch, you know they're all dead," Ward told her patiently. "The two
babies because of you - yeah - that's right - because you couldn't take your ass home
and go to sleep. And guess what?"
	She stared blankly.
	"You're next."
	The men laughed, their laughter crude as they continued to stroke themselves.
	"Hey, Ward," Matt said.
	"Yeah."
	"Let's hang er up on the tree, spreadeagle, arms up, and let's fuck this
shitbag for all she can handle - what do you think?"
	"Hell, yeah. Let's give er some meat and some heat."
	"Steel rods?"
	"Yeah. Are they on the grill?"
	"Ready and waiting. We'll ream er out good."
	They dragged her up on her feet between them, each taking one arm and they
walked her out to the tree on which Tori and Kathleen had hung earlier.  She stumbled
along awkwardly unable to take weight on her tendon-slashed legs which were kept
apart by the bat shoved half way up into her.
	"Not doing too well, are you cunt?" Ward asked rhetorically.
	Her mutilated hand spurted blood on Matt's legs.
	"Damn," he said, pleasantly surprised at the sudden warm gush on his thigh.
	"We're gonna have to cauterize that shit or the pig'll bleed to death."
	"Yeah. Wouldn't want her to leave us prematurely. That wouldn't be right."
	They cuffed her wrists to a spreader bar and hooked the bar to a pulley line
that still dangled from the punishment tree then they hauled her up.  The pulley
squeaked and the branch groaned.
	"Fuckin' fat bitch..." Matt complained.
	"She ain't all that bad," Ward commented. "Just a bit on the hefty side."
	And as they got her up off her feet and she hung, stretched upward Matt had
to agree.  Even after three kids, lack of exercise and careless eating habits, Connie Spell
was still a pretty fine piece of cuntmeat. In fact, her fleshiness added to her charm. 
Besides both killers knew that the more body mass a victim posessed the more pain and
suffering she would be able to withstand.
	The punishment tree was nearly ten yards from the end of the patio and the
light began to dim into the shadows of the forest there.  This caused Connie's pale
body to shimmer attractively, to reflect the faint glow,  the sloping curves of hips and
breasts and thighs, draped with silky tendrils of darkness that made her appear more
desirable and voluptuous.
	Ward reached down and pulled the bat from her cunt.  It came loose with a wet
sound and she gave out a sighing moan as he tossed it aside. 
	While Ward cuffed her legs by her cut-up ankles to another spreader bar and
lifted them on a second pulley line until her feet were above her head and she hung
spread open obscenely Matt brought one of the iron rods from the grill.  It glowed redly
and as he touched it to the captive wounded hand of the suspended bitch she let out a
piercing shriek. Oblivious of the agony he was inflicting Matt patiently pressed the rod
into each of the three severed digit-stumps charring them black and staunching the loss
of blood. Then, he took the steel rod back to the grill to allow it to reheat.
	Ward moved in on the hanging cut-striped woman.  She had started to cry and
sob inconsolably.  He stood in front of her and took her thighs, one in each hand, his
thumbs in her kneehollows.  Her skin was cool, firm, not at all flabby. He had positioned
her just right so that his erect cock now pointed at the chubby blonde-fuzz-covered
mound of womanmeat.  Ward enjoyed this position immensely, a slaughter-cow dangling
open right in front of him, broken, bleeding, burned, crying, defeated.
	"Are you ready for me again, Connie?" he asked softly.  His eyes stared coldly
into hers.  "I enjoyed fucking you and whipping you with the machete while you 
watched your kiddies die. I really did. But this is different."  His fingers squeezed into
her thigh-flesh.  "This time I need your full undivided attention.  Do I have it?"
	She nodded slowly, still drooling piss.
	"Say: Yes, sir. You have my complete attention."
	It took her a brief moment.
	"Y-yes, sir. You - you h-have my com-complete - attention -"
	He put his cock up to the base of her red cuntslit, spread open and fully accesible.
	He stared into her eyes taking control of her.
	"Fuck me and make it hurt - say it."
	Her lip quivered.
	"F-fuck me and - and - m-make it hurt."
	He smirked.  Matt had returned with the iron hot from the charcoals. While Ward
continued staring at his victim he spoke to his comrade.
	"Burn her back with it.  All over," Ward said and pushed his cock into Connie's
cunthole slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
	Matt waited until Ward was halfway in and he raised the red tip of the metal spear
to the paralell machete-gashes on Connie's shoulders.
	She screamed and her cunt squeezed hard against Ward's prick.
	The killer smiled and tipped his head back as his hips began to grind passionately.

__________________________________

	The thin plastic rod, the one he has unhooked from the levelor blinds on the
window, is in Thad's hand.
	Isabel is sobbing and squirming hanging on the bathroom door.
	Whip-welts cross the child's small body.
	Her slashed nipple bleeds.
	He's done a nice job on her so far - but it needs to go further now.
	He moves slowly toward her.
	She sees him coming. Shakes her head wildly.
	"Nnhhh! Nnnnhh!" she wails seeing the long white shaft in his hand.
	It is three feet long, hard and slightly flexible.
	His eyes are fierce and slitted, his mouth a straight cruel determined line, his jaw
clenched.
	His prick is engorged, upright, curved upward slightly. Aching hot. It bounces
stiffly as he strides toward her, his balls swinging between his thighs.
	He holds the rod firmly in his right hand, a weapon of opportunity, one he has
used before.  He likes the feel of it, light and balanced in his grip, but most of all as he
now takes little Isa by her right foot and lifts her up, stretching her outward from the
door, her arms yanked tautly by the electrical cable around her wrists, he likes the way it
sounds when he swings it, hard, viciously hard, across the five year old's thigh.
	Holding her one leg up by the ankle he begins slashing at it vehemently with
the white plastic rod from the knee to the hip.
	The rod whistles shrilly as he swats it down on her - a short catcall ending in
a nasty thump of hard plastic against soft girlmeat.  He beats her with it. Punishes her
with it.  Swish-thump. Swish-thump. Studies her squirming pain. Plants dark bruise-cuts
in close proximity to each other moving up her small limb, then down again - up and
down -
	 And then he moves down her shin, placing unforgiving and repetitive wacks
where they hurt the most, several snaps at her knee, at the side of her limb, hard plastic
smacking on bone - 
	He twists her ankle so that she rotates on her upstretched arms now offering the
back of her leg - fresh meat for the white rod bearing only the welts of his whip. He likes
the calf.  He likes to mark it, to beat it, to bruise it, to slash it.  Small girly calf, white,
tender soft, his fingers dug into her small foot and around her ankle to hold her steady as
he rod-whips her moving up to her knee-hollow, knowingly hitting harder there to
exploit the clusters of sensitive nerves making the child recoil responsively to the
blistering pain - and then on up her chubby little thigh - sweet, smooth babymeat - hard
there - real hard - hard enough to draw blood - hard enough to bring the brutality of the
world, all of it in all its resplendant ugliness right to the preschooler.
	"Little bitch!" he growls dropping that leg and taking the other one, twisting
her ankle so that she swings, swivels again, facing him, yanked upward and he
begins to castigate that limb with quicker swats, now aroused and barely in control
of his savagery.  He is letting go, releasing it all on the child, fueled by the murder of
Connie Spell's children on the diving board, taking it all out on her. All of it.
Bringing it home.
	The sound of the rod striking is almost as loud as her screams.
	Sllishhh -Thumppp!
	Slllisshhh - Thuddddd!
	He hates her.  He wants her to feel his hatred. Right in her bones.
	Her arms tug desperately against her wired wrists. She babbles hysterically, tries in
vain to pull her foot from his steely grip.
	He hoists his captive angel up further, twists her ankle again so that she looks
down at the floor, her arms yanked to the door.
	"Stupid little scumbag!"
	With throaty grunts he swats the thin plastic rod against her asscheeks and across
her back, still holding her by one leg, sketching bloodlines all over his small defenseless
victim, swinging her over to bloodcane her belly, back over to tear at her shoulderblades.
	He grabs her by the ankle and begins to slash at her small footsole, tearing
the skin right off it in thin bands from the heel to the toes.  He grips her leg a bit higher
so that he can focus and vent his rage on her small knobby heel.  He rubs her bloody
foot on his cock and on his balls and then he grabs her other ankle and repeats the
attack.
	The tip of the rod snaps off finally and he rams the broken plastic shaft up her
knife-gouged asshole, as far as it will go, making her scream with fresh energy -
Then he pulls both her bloody feet up to his balls and prick to masturbate himself with
them as her screams decrescendo into anguished pitiful sobs.
	After a good while of that he drops her and she thumps weakly against the door
face-first, whimpering.
	He unsheathes his knife, reaches up and cuts the electrical wire strand that goes
to the top edge of the door from her bound wrists.
	The child collapses to the floor on her whipped knees as her arms are cut free then
tumbles down to lie on her side at his feet, dripping blood, the rod sticking out of her
asshole.
	He sheathes his blade, bends down and yanks the rod out of her to toss it aside
and she twists into a fetal position with a sweet breathless cry.  He drags her away from
the door so that he can open it then he takes her by her hair and drags her into the
bathroom, her body unfolding weakly as she slides over the cold tan-colored tiles.
	Propping her up on the toilet, her back against the bowl, her little head falling
back weakly inside the rim, wrists still wirebound in front of her, hands in her lap,
he stands over her, straddles her between his feet, and aims his cock at her pretty face.
	His cock is still erect but he's able to let go of the pressure in his bladder and
a thin tight line of hot yellow piss arcs down on Isabel's babycheeks and mouth, into her
hair as she moves her head weakly from side to side under the stinking flow.
	Thad steps back to piss all over the child's bloody and bruised body, on her chest
and arms, and bleeding nipples - on her belly and on her little cunt mound and on her
badly beaten legs.
	When he finishes he bends down to grab her by her long hair and stuff her
head into the toilet as he flushes, holding her face under the swirling water drowning the
breath from her.  
	Leaving her leaning into the bowl and gasping for breath he unbuckles the strap
around his waist, tossing it aside. He sits on the floor, his back against the cool ceramic
side of the bathtub and he pulls her to him, lifting her on to him, forcing the nearly
unconscious child to straddle him as he puts his cock up against her hairless pussy.
	"Sit on it," he tells her, looking into her face.
	Her wet hair drips down over her teary eyes.
	Her little legs fold under her, whipped feet on either side of him, and he guides
her down, her small hairless pussy poised on his upright shaft.
	He bears down on her shoulders gradually impaling her on his cock.
	"Owwww!" she cries.
	He moves one hand up to her hair to work her up and down, to rupture-fuck
the five year old sitting comfortably, jerking her, pistoning her easily, taking his fill
of her, enjoying the tight sleeve of human meat around his manflesh, little slut-weasel wet
with hot piss and blood 
	This still won't be enough but its nice and he takes his time.
	No need to rush this delicious one-on-one.
	It will come to an end soon enough.

__________________________________

	Ward fucks Connie as she dangles from the tree, legs high and wide, Matt
placing dark burnsmears over the cuts all over her back and shoulders and asscheeks. 
The bat has left her cunthole wide for Ward's rape and he is now hilted up to his balls in
the slaughter slut,  his hands gripping her legs hard as he rams himself to the limit, going
up on his toes, the thirty five year old woman screaming at the top of her lungs as the
hot steel burns her skin and cauterizes the slashes left by the machete blade.
	As Matt goes back to the grill to take the other iron and reheat the one he's been
using, Ward slides out of Connie's pussy, spits on his cock and puts it to her
asshole.
	"Beg me," he tells her.
	She sobs and her head tilts at an angle as if pleading.
	"I said, beg me, scumbag."
	"Pleease - pleease, sir - fu-fuck me - fuck me up the ass."
	Gripping her upflung thighs just above her hips he pushes into her.
	"Ahhh, yeahh," he grunts. "I've been here before but its sooo much nicer
the second time around - keep begging me you stupid bimbo cunt!'
	"Pleease - uhhh - pleease - fu-fu-fuckk me - fuck me -"
	"I'm gonna break you, pig. Unnnhhh! Break you -  No more trips to the mall for
you or your stinking mall-rat kids.  No more McDonald's or Wendy's or Haagen Dasz
binges.  Feel me. Take me -"
	He rams into her hard, burying nearly all ten inches of manmeat in her
asshole and as she sobs and gasps and continues to beg him to fuck her he begins sliding
in and out, bits of shit and blood clinging to his spit-shiny shaft.
	The night air is cool on his back and the trees behind him now glow
under spectral moonlight.
	Ward enjoys rape-killing out doors, especially at night.  It makes him
feel intimately close to his animal nature.  But though he is enjoying himself with the
blonde pig he knows he doesn't want to blow all his time on her.  There's still Stella
Dalwell and Kyla and her girls to deal with in the house.  Lots of business to take care of.
	He wonders how things are going upstairs in the Rodriguez house - how far Thad
is going with Isabel. Ward hopes it is as far as humanly possible.  He knows Thad will
give the little bitch all she can handle and more.
	Connie and the kids have been a nice diversion but now it needs to come to an
end - as all good things must - he thrusts his cock powerfully into her knowing that soon
she will be nothing but wasted whoremeat - a pile of shit on the ground - a carcass. It
never ceases to amaze him how one moment life energy vibrates through a human
female body, driving every limb and every muscle and how in the next moment there is
nothing there - the spirit driven out of the flesh - beauty turned into rotting meat.
	He fucks Connie up the ass with jackhammer-thrusts of his hips, punishing her
with his cock, watching Matt make his way back from the grill with the glowing
metal shaft.
	"We're gonna kill you, cunt," Ward tells her.
	She looks at him, her head wobbling back and forth from his pounding.
	"But you know that already - don't you?" he asks.
	"Yes," she says softly.
	"And you want it, don't you?"
	"Yess - I want it - my my children are d-dead - I have nothing left to live for - I - I
need to b-be with - uhh - with them..."
	"We're gonna give you what you want - but it ain't gonna be quick and easy."
	"I - uhh - I know - I don't deserve quick and easy - uhh - don't - deserve - it -"
	Matt now stands just behind Connie waiting, the steel rod in his hand.
	"Hey, Matt, the pig says she doesn't deserve it quick and easy. What do you
think?"
	"Quick and easy's never been the Black X style," he replies raising the heated
shaft to the base of her spine to press it into her.
	As she screams at the fall night sky Ward hilts his cock in her tightening shit chute.
"That's for goddamn sure," he growls.
	Matt works his way up her spine pushing the hot steel into her while Ward 
fucks her up the ass his hips pumping energetically.  Ward alternates fucking her up the
ass and then the cunt as Matt now pushes the metal rod into the back of her neck.
	Suddenly Ward pulls out of her.
	"Take over, Matt - I want to hurt this pig bad - I want to finish it."
	Matt hands him the shaft and moves in to put his cock in Connie's raped cunt.
	Ward watches him begin to fuck the suspended blonde and he goes back to the
grill.  He puts the shaft back on the smouldering coals and picks up the machete which
he left on the ground by the pool.  
	The dead females float in the water and he watches them as he heats the killing
blade in the coals.
	To most people this vision of death, gutted bloody females and children bobbing in
the moonlight is intolerable, for Ward it is a source of deep pleasure and power.
	He hears Connie scream and looks over his shoulder to see Matt crouched before
the suspended blonde punching her cunt.
	He smiles.
	That'a way, Matt, he thinks. Mess er up, good.  Mess er up til she can't take
any more.  
	Fuckin' cunt's going down.

__________________________________

	Thad lifts Isabel gently off his cock, gets up on his feet, lifts her over the edge of
the tub to lay her out in it, face up, her bound arms over her head.
	A demanding pressure has built up in his bowels and he needs to relieve it,
crouching, straddling the beaten child, up on the edge of the tub, his feet on the rim,
leaning slightly forward, his hands on the tiled wall opposite the showerhead.
	He lets out a long fetid fart and Isabel looks up helplessly as his sinewy stomach
muscles visibly clench.
	"Ahhhh," he grunts and a long thick turd begins to push from his asshole.
	The child whimpers and tries to cover her face with her wrist-bound hands.
	"Put your hands above your head, Isa," he tells her. " - and keep em there."
	She's an obedient little slut and she does as she is told and he's amazed by the
size of the turd which now drops down and swirls around her rosy tear-washed cheeks.
	"Uhhh," he grunts again as the last of the turd squeezes out of him.
	There's more coming and he scootches down the tub, one hand on the side wall,
the other stroking his massive erection.
	The smell of his shit fills the bathroom as another huge turd begins to squeeze
from him, delightfully pressing out his sphincter and snaking down to land on the five
year old's blood-whipped cuntmound.
	He reaches down into the tub to pull her slashed leg up, to grab her ankle and
wipe himself with her bloodwhipped little foot pressing her heel right into his asshole,
smearing it with shit, faeces running down her welt-scored calf.
	Sliding down into the tub with Isabel he straddles her between his legs to
squeeze the turds against her with his hands, to smear the shit all over the nude, caned
and whip-beaten child.  He orders her to open her mouth and he stuffs a sizable piece of
excrement past her lips, muffling her cries and stifling her breath.  Her eyes bulge,
she makes an odd noise in her throat.  He smiles stuffing more shit into her.
	Choke on it, he tells her with his eyes.  Choke on my shit.	
	Reaching up he takes a towel from the towel bar next to the tub, cuts a strip of
cloth from it with his knife and gags Isabel with it tying the cloth around her head to
keep his thick faeces in her mouth.
	Choking and gasping for air, brown streams running from her nose, the child
squirms as the killer now pushes chunks of his shit up her little cunt and her
knife-slashed asshole, stuffing her with his putrid excrement.
	He rolls her over on her belly and rubs shit all over her whipped back and
asscheeks and legs, pushing down on her, smushing his balls against her shit-covered
skin.  His hands are caked with it.  He wipes them in her hair and on her face.  He rolls
her back over and sits on her face, wiping his ass clean on the bridge of her nose, shitting
out a last spurt of crap in her eyes and forehead.  
	The foul smell excites him deeply.  It brings to mind all the gutting slaughters,
all the butchered females, giving up their life for his orgasm.
	He lifts Isa's legs and spreads them open to put his cock in her tiny sexhole, sliding
into her greased with shit and blood and piss, sliding in deep, she whining and banging
her head on the floor of the tub, gagging on his shit, the strip of towel in her mouth
already saturated earthy brown.
	He fucks the luckless wrist-bound infant brutally until fresh blood flows from her
savaged vagina.  He punches her belly and chest winding her, hurting her inside, smiling
wickedly, his own face and body smeared with shit.  Hot spurts of piss squirt out of her
on to his penetrating shaft, on his belly and thighs.  He reaches down to grab her by her
sides and penetrate her to the hilt.  When he's in as far as he can go he closes his eyes
and makes himself relax.  With studied discipline he maintains his erection as he empties
what's left in his bladder right into Isabel's shit-stuffed womb.  His urine mixes with hers
leaking out around the base of his penetrating prick.
	When he withdraws his cock is covered with blood, shit and piss and the child's
head is moving from side to side slowly, hypnotically.
	He hopes she can take what's left to take as he climbs out of the tub, his hand
on the hot water valve.
	He swings her on her belly and she flops over weakly faeces and urine dribbling
out of her.
	He turns on the water and soon scalding fluid is shooting from the showerhead
thick steam rising from the tub and Isa's screaming, with newfound energy, her throat
shit-muzzled, the child trying to scramble away from the burning spray.
	He keeps her in place by yanking her arms up by the strand of wire so that she
can't move or find her footing.
	When her skin is bright red he turns on the cold water and brings the temperature
to a tolerable level stepping into the tub with her to let the water wash him clean, Isa
squirming and rolling over and over in agony between his legs on the tub floor.  He
takes soap from the soap dish and rubs himself with it until it lathers up.  He soaps Isa
down, dripping soap in her eyes and in her welt wounds.  He pushes the lather into her
eyes with his fingers to blind her with it then he puts the soap back and lets the shower
water wash the soap from their bodies.
	He reaches down and yanks the bawling red-eyed five year old up on her knees
by her bound arms.
	Standing over her, the showerwater running down on both of them, he unties
the cloth from around her face. Before she can spit the shit out he pushes his cock
into her mouth.
	"Take it you little whore and don't you fucking dare bite it," he tells her.
	With his prick-head he shoves the moist excrement still in there to the back of her
mouth making her swallow it, while she chokes and wriggles helplessly.  He pushes his
huge cock into her, almost dislocating her jaw and watches her struggle to breathe.
	Then, unsheathing his knife he cuts her wrists free, takes each of her hands and
slices one sharp deep gash into each small palm.
	"Rub me," he tells her. And she does, crying fitfully, fighting for each breath, her
cute little hands moving back and forth against his raging prickmeat trailing flesh blood.
	"Faster," he tells her. "Rub me faster - ahh - yeahh - that's better - you little
fuckk -"
	Bright red blood from her slashed palms snakes around his shaft and drips down
his balls warm as summer rain.
	"Put your finger up my ass," he growls. "Uhh - up my ass, you tramp. Ahh -
yeahhh - push it up in there -"  Isa obediently squeezes the index of her right hand
up into her captor's tight rectum, bits of shit leaking out of him and running down her
arm, mixing with the blood from the knife cut. "Rub your other hand on my balls, you
little bitch - ahh - and keep - sucking me! Keep going. Don't stop! Uhh - yeahhh"
	After a few blissful moment he pulls out and she gags noisily and pukes violently,
shit and vomit running out of her and on to her hands and on to his legs and down into
the flow of warm water gushing into the drain hole.
	When she finishes he picks up the soap again, lathers his cock with it and stuffs his
it back into her little mouth.
	"Ughh! Gghww! Ggg!" she gasps.
	His sud-slimed cockhead fills her throathole.  He reaches down to smear the soap
bar on her cut-up palms.
	"Stinking little fuckkk!" he roars as he puts the soap back on the soap dish his
hands going around her neck. "Get your hands back on me - on my balls - yess -
yesssss!"
	He feels the steady pressure at the base of his cock and in his genital sacs as he
choke fucks the beaten scalded child lifting her off her knees, her tiny soaped blood-
smeared hands gently caressing him.
	" - stinking - little - mongrel - fuck!!"
	He almost cums - so close to the edge of orgasm he can feel his balls tighten up
deliciously - then he shoves her away and she bangs against the rear wall, her feet
slipping out from under her and she slides down to lie at his feet fighting for breath,
soapscum and shit spilling from her lips, the shower drizzle pounding in her eyes.
	He shuts the water off and steps out of the tub.
	Taking a clean towel he wipes himself dry, relishing the sensation of the thick cloth
on his aroused body, letting the sexual need for release recede,  stroking himself - slow,
slower, slower - cupping his balls with the towel and turning to look down at his victim. 
	Eventually he leans down to lift her out of the tub, lay her on the bathroom floor
at his feet and dry off her brutally punished body.  She is so small and defenseless, he
observes as he gently soaks up the wetness, blood from her hands and arms, bits of shit
and vomit from her chest and belly and legs - he admires the welts, cuts and bruises he's
put on her. He turns her over on her belly.  Her back and butt glow red from the steamy
scalding and a veritable grid of welt-lines, bite-marks and dark cuts cross her spine. Blood
dribbles from her cunt and asshole, from her gashed palms, and her eyes are swollen,
teary and irritated from the abrasive soap.  She lies there, her face between his feet,
cheek to the wet tiles, beaten and suffering.  He crouches down to trace the middle of
her back, the line of her spine, with the tip of his prick, from her asscrack to the back of
her neck and back down.
	"Mmmm," he moans.  The sensation of her flesh against his squeaky clean piss-slit
is delightfully arousing. He strokes his hot meat-shaft across her back, over her whip-
seared shoulderblades - he pushes it into her wet scalp, into the scruff of her warm neck.
He rubs his balls on the tortured child, all over her bathed body, his weight shifting on
his crouching legs, her arms laid out either side of her head, slashed hands slightly
cupped against the slickly wet floor tiles.
	 Deeply aroused he rises off her. He needs to break her now, to inflict final
atrocious suffering on his undeserving prey before returning her downstairs.
Taking her by one ankle he drags her out of the bathroom, over the carpet and
back to the disheveled, blood-stained bed.

	
__________________________________	

	
	
	Matt fucks Connie hatefully.  He spits in her face and calls her a disgusting cunt, a
scumbag, a whore.  He makes her repeat his words.  He makes her open her mouth
so that he can spit in it.  His phlegm sprays her cheeks and nose, spills down her chin. 
He pounds his cock up deep into her cunt with raw energy then pulls it out to hilt it back
up into her asshole.  Ward is by the grill heating up the machete.  Matt can't wait to see
this pig-bitch slashed to pieces. He punches her tits.  He bites them.  He steps back to
punch her cunt and fuck it again, his cock shit-slimed.  Then he starts fisting her.  Fisting
a bitch is like punching her inside.  Fuck-punching.  He punches the cunt a few times first
making her grunt and gasp to his blows.  Yeah, Ward is heating up that machete nice,
turning it over and over in the coals, looking back over his shoulder, watching Matt
work the pig.  Ward's warming up the tools, Matt's warming up the meat. Punch -
punch - punch - meaty thuds into her stinking twat.  He looks at her just hanging there,
arms reaching up at the moonlit sky, legs too, wide open. Then punch - punch - punch -
punch - Pigbitch cunt - punch - Slimy shitbag - punch -  He jams three fingers up her
drooling snatch and then works his whole hand into her and finally the fist, pumping in
and out. 
	"You like it?" he snarls. "You like it, pig? Huh? You like the way my fist feels in
there? Stinking fuckk."
	"Break me," she moans feebly. "Break me - break me - break me -"
	"Oh I am gonna break you - don't you fuckin' worry about it - I'm gonna
break you in two, scumbag -"
	Two, three fingers shoved up her tight asshole then as she groans and hangs her
head his whole hand and then the fist, the hard unyielding fist up her ass.
	"Is that what you want? Huh? Is that how you want it? Answer me, whore.
Answer me."
	"Yesss - yesss - uugghhh - give it to me - agghh - give - it - to - m-meee -"
	"You're nothing but a slimy stinking hole. Goddamn cunt.  We're gonna
take you apart."
	His fist - all the way up to the wrist in her asshole.
	"Open up your dirty mouth."
	She does so. He spits in it again.  Fuckpunches her deep. In and out.
	Ward comes over.  He has the machete in one hand and the steel rod in the other.
Both implements are smouldering and covered with white ash. 
	Matt yanks his fist out of Connie's ass, raises his shit-smeared hand to her face.
	"Lick it clean."
	She does so, sobbing softly.
	Her spit runs down his hairy arm.
	Ward hands Matt the steel rod.
	"Let's punish this meat," Ward says calmly, walking around to stand behind the
suspended blonde.
	Ward stands in front of her, raises the shaft.
	"Look at me," he tells her.
	She raises her head, her eyes search for his.  His features are blurred in the pale
moonlight, shadowman, judge and executioner. He is what she fully deserves. Behind
him the field stretches out flatly toward the dark cluster of trees where the young killers
hid to watch the house earlier that afternoon. The night breeze cools her sweaty face,
ripples through her bangs.  Behind her she can sense the other one. She can hear his
bare feet moving on the low-cut grass. His fist has left both her holes hurtfully dilated
and she can still taste her own shit. Bits of it cling to her lips and tongue. Her body tenses
for the coming pain.  Her wrists and ankles are sore and chafed from the grip of the
leather cuffs and her arms and legs, hands and feet are numb and cramped. The skin of
her back stings from the machete cuts and the steel rod's punishing burns. Her finger-
less cauterized hand has gone completely numb. But despite her aching limbs and
tortured flesh she feels as though she's floating, hovering in the air.  She knows the men
are going to kill her.  Nothing now can or will prevent that.  It is her fate and she has
given herself to it.  She has earned all this punishment for her poor decisions.  She
understands now that for most of her life she has made nothing but poor decisions.  The
killers' fists and cocks and their instruments of torture have brought home that
understanding .This night has made her face herself like nothing else ever has.  She can
see poor decisions stretching back through the years.  She married Paul even though she
really didn't love him;  she had three kids she didn't really want;  she was a third-rate
mother unable to meet her children's most basic needs, including the most basic one of
safety.  And after Paul died she'd been a mess, unable to handle the simplest tasks
without frequent cocktails at the Mariott downtown, unable to deal with real life unless
unless she first made herself numb with Bacardi and coke or Long Island tea or just
straight-up scotch on the rocks. Eventually she started buying the booze and drinking at
home where no one would know and no one would ask questions. These killers had seen
right through her, right to her weak female soul.  The one in front of her now - he looks
into her as if she's made of glass.  His rage consumes her.  It is a fire she needs to throw
herself into.  She can't tell if he smiles or sneers contemptuously as he lifts the hot metal
shaft to her cunt.
	Judge, jury and executioner.
	"Fuck this, pig," he growls meanly.
	The pain is a blunt insult, tearing through her.  She howls wildly, mouth gaping,
head craning back. Up above her: the dark tangled branches, moonlit - the
shivering leaves.
	Matt moves the superheated steel in and out of Connie's vulva.  The tender
flesh sizzles like steakmeat on a frying pan.  He pushes it in deep, slowly, burning
her cunt-tunnel all the way up to her uterus, watching her kick and dance frenetically,
her crazed screams moving through him making him stroke himself.
	Behind Connie, Ward lifts the machete to the middle of her back, to the right of
her spine and he pushes the red-hot blade into the screaming woman, pushes in hard,
slices into her, cuts into her kidney.  As Matt rod-fucks the suspended victim Ward
pulls out the machete and puts it back into her, on the other side of her spine, into
the other kidney.  At first the two wounds drip blood but are quickly cauterized by the
hot machete blade.
	Connie, the muscles on her neck standing out tautly, her face grimacing with
agony at the distant stars beyond the gnarled oak branches, pisses blood on to the
shaft with which Matt cunt-fucks her.  Pain shoots up the back and the front of her body.
Her legs and arms stretch and twist helplessly against the grip of the cuffs.  She knows
she will soon be with her children, thrust into the dark unknown, dumped in the pool like
used-up trash.  Then she will feel nothing.  It will all end.  Terror overwhelms her for a
brief instant then suddenly she thinks - there's nothing to be afraid of - nothing - then she
gives herself to the atrocious pain, screaming and babbling and writhing.
	Matt pulls the rod from her cunt and puts it to her rectum.  He shoves into the
smaller opening as her cunt spews black blood and reddish piss.  He jams it up her
enjoying the limitless cruelty of his act and the devastating effect on his victim.
	Behind her, Ward draws long burn-cut lines on her back from her shoulders
to her waist, occasionally thrusting the blade into the skin deep, past the outer layers and
into the muscle beneath.  He cuts through the cuts already on her from before.  He
opens new slashes.  He whips her flanks with the machete.  He cuts and pierces
her asscheeks.  Lifting the blade to her face from behind he burns her cheeks and the
sides of her neck.
	Both men move around their prey.
	Matt yanks his rod out of her ass and begins to whip her with it across her
machete-slashed back.  Ward slices, pierces, bisects, burns her boobs.  He slices
off one of her tits and pushes most of the machete blade up her already burn-ravaged
cunthole.  Then with a fierce shout he swings the machete hard, first across one arm,
then across the other, severing clean through both limbs cutting her hands off below the
wrist cuffs.
	The slaughter-bitch tumbles backwards to hang by her ankles, arm stumps
pumping out blood on the grass below, her  cut-off hands dangling from the spreader bar
and cuffs, twin bloody appendages, one mutilated, the fingers on the other still senselessly
flexing.  As she swings back and forth screaming she catches a glimpse of her severed
breast, a nipple-crowned mound of meat spilled on the grass below.
	Matt shouts vengefully slamming his victim across her ribcage vigorously and
repeatedly with his metal rod.  He smashes her ribcage, the rod thumping and
crunching across her bleeding mutilated thorax.
	Her arm stumps flail wildly as Ward whips her cunt from behind with the machete
blade, rips it to pieces, slashes at her chunky thighs with it, slices gashes in the back of
her legs.
	Connie's fresh blood spatters the killers.
	Blood and moonlight.
	Frenzied screams.
	Savage grunts.
	"Cut her open!" Matt shouts at Ward stepping back. "Gut the fucking bitch!"
	Ward comes around, stands in front of the upside-down-dangling whoremeat.
	Puts his blade to her cunt-mound.
	"Beg me," he says softly.
	"Hmmm," Matt comments jerking off with quick hard pumping motions.
	She dangles writhing, mouth wide, gasping for air, both lungs pierced through, her
eyes starting to glaze.
	"I said beg me," Ward repeats pushing the tip of the blade gently into her mons.
	Still hot enough to burn, the metal hisses, burns pubic meat and hair.
	"Uhhh -" she groans. "P-p-pleeeease -" Her voice seems to come from deep in
her throat, weak and tremulous, her mouth filling up with blood, nostrils bubbling with
more blood as she tries to form words.
	- no more movies with the kids, no more Sunday drives, no more cuddling under
the blankets, laughing, tickling, playing games -  it ends here, swinging back and forth,
the tree branch creaking - the floodlit patio and the pool where the dead bodies float
fading - fizzing out -
	" - pp - pp - hh - pleeeeeezze - c-cuhtt - cuhht mme uu-uhhppp -"
	"Yeahhhh -" Matt moans and Ward leans his weight down into the machete
slicing into the hanging female, putting a third of the machete in her, piercing through
epidermis and a thin layer of subcutaneous fat.
	"Uuggwhh!" she grunts, stretching, back arched.
	- nothing now but this steel fuck opening her body to the cold night -
	Ward focuses his energy on the slow downward progress of his blade.  This is one
of his favorite killing methods, one of the most enjoyable for him, and he's obsessed with
the execution of it.  The cut must be absolutely straight and perfect.  The bitch must be
opened up all the way to her neck like a cow in a slaughterhouse. He keeps steady
pressure on the blade cutting through the peritoneum and into the gutsac but not
pushing in too deep as he moves down to the belly buton, down past it to the shattered
rib cage, scraping against the sternum and all the way to her throat.
	"Eegghhwwhuuggghhh -"she groans as he cuts.
	The soft belly tissue flaps begin to yield before he's even reached her throat and
a clumpy mass of soft intestine bulges outward and then pours down past her
chopped off tit to drip to the ground off her shoulder.  Careful not to slice her
aorta Ward pulls the blood-smeared machete from her.  She looks up at him lost
and confused, babbling indistinctly as he crouches to bring his cock up to her mouth.
	"Suck me," he whispers.
	He puts the machete on the ground as her lips wrap softly and obediently around
his prick. He takes her upside down head in both hands and guides her back and forth on
his meat.
	Looking up at Matt he tells him to pierce the rod through her legs, through her
kneehollows, to break through both her knees.
	Ward grips Connie's mouth open, fingers digging against her lips on the top and
bottom to keep her jaw wide, to keep her from biting down as he deep-throats
the dying bitch.
	Matt pushes the sharp tip of the hot metal spear into her right leg first.
	She flinches to the intrusion, bolts of sharp new pain tearing though her.
	Ward fucks her face and Matt jams the rod into the back of her knee-bone, ripping
the kneecap from the joint as the metal punches out and through the front of her leg.
	She still has enought strength to scream.  The killers like that.  
	Another twisting mass of intestine-strands slither from the abdominal cut and 
drip down on her face and on Ward's cock to hang there briefly before dropping to the
grass.
	Matt yanks out the rod and slams it into her left leg to repeat the violence.  He
leaves the weapon impaled through her knee and crouches down beside Ward.  Both
men take turns feeding her their cocks, fucking her blood-spurting throat.  Ward
takes both side-flaps of her gashed abdomen and peels them open.  Both men breathe in
the stink of her, the hot bloody stench, both push their cocks into her mouth
simultaneously then yank her head from side to side to claim sole posession of her
sucking mouth for a few seconds before sharing.  As Matt gagfucks the dying female
Ward reaches into her sliced-open abdomen and takes a hold of her liver. Carefully he
tugs it out of her reaching for his knife to cut it free of its moorings.  
	"Hey," he says holding the dripping dark brown organ up in the dim glow
coming from the patio lights.
	"You hungry?"
	Matt smiles, eyes slitted, his mouth watering as he hilts himself in Connie's
trembling lips.
	"You know it. Toss it on the grill...and bring the branding irons."
	Matt continues to pleasure himself with the slaughter-whore's mouth, to rub his
balls all over her bleeding face as she whimpers, blood rattling in her trachea with each
strained breath.
	"Keep sucking bitch," he tells her pushing the full length of his shaft back into her
throat. "Keep going - Its not over yet."
	Ward returns with the branding irons, X's red-hot.  He also brings a metal hook,
curved sharp steel, five inches long.
	Matt gets up as Ward hands him one of the brands.
	"Pull the iron out of her leg," Ward tells Matt who reaches up and does so ripping
the metal from the bloody gash in Connie's kneehollow.
	"I'm gonna lift her by her head," Ward says as he places the tip of the hook
under Connie's chin and gouges it into her mouth. She wails, babbles and when the
bloody point emerges under her tongue he pulls her head up by the hook to one of the
lines from which the cuffed mutilated hand still dangles.  Matt steps forward to help
Ward. He releases the cuff with the trapped limb still buckled in it and both fall to the
grass.  Ward slips an eyelet on the end of the hook through the pulley line and knots it
tight effectively suspending his blonde victim by her head, her suspended tendon-slashed
feet back behind her, her armstumps flailing like a floundering nest-bird's wings.
	A shrill high-pitched scream comes suddenly from the upstairs bedroom.
	Connie's eyes trail up to the light in the window above the patio.
	Then - another shriek, slightly shorter than the first.
	"Thad's having fun with the kid," Matt chuckles.  He's studying the captive
body of the suspended bitch he and Ward are about to dispatch.
	"I-Isa?" Connie mutters still staring at the window, brows arched, bloody drool
spilling from her lips, steel hook piercing past her lips, bits of gut mass spiraling from the
gash in her body.  She's beautifully stretched, arched, ready for final flight.  Next to her
face her other severed hand, still cuffed to the suspension line, dangles.
	"That's right, pig," Ward tells her.
	"Wh-why?" she groans, tears gleaming in her blue eyes. She has trouble forming
the words in her hook-gashed mouth." - gh - a - help-helpless ch-children - wh-why?"
	"Guess we just love kids, don't we, Matt?"
	"Love em to death."
	The killers raise the X brands.
	Another scream comes from the house.
	"Shit," Matt comments. "Thad's definitely goin' to town."
	A fourth scream comes, more of a piercing squeal, Connie looking at her killers,
looking past the branding irons now poised before her face.
	"Lets do it," Ward snarls.
	Both men drive their irons into Connie's teary, blood-drooling face, the face they
have pissed on and fucked - they drive hot steel right into her eyes which at the moment
of contact still glance back up at the bedroom window from where Isa's shrieks have
come.
	The window light is the last thing she sees.  Branding X's melt her eyes shut
forever as the men push deep.
	"Die, you fucking pig," Ward growls.
	They seal her screaming mouth with the irons.
	They brand her mutilated body, hips, thighs, calves, flanks, arm-stumps.
	They wait and watch her stroking themselves as she writhes and howls dying for
them, suffering, dropping her guts on the grass.
	"F-f-fuhnish me -" she groans weakly after nearly ten minutes.  The hook under
her chin has pierced through her nostril and gashed her cheek. " - gh - fuhnish - fuhnn -
fuhnishh meee, pleeeze - no mo-more - no mo-more -"
	Ward picks up the machete from the grass.
	Matt watches him slash now through her calves cutting her cuffed tendon-slashed
feet from her legs.  Her lower body slumps to the ground, she still hung by the hook in
her head.  With one deft swing Ward cuts that line as well and the grisly thing that was
once a pretty blonde mom topples to the ground. 
	She lies there at the feet of her killers writhing, still begging to die.
	"Crawl," Ward tells her taking the end of the hook line, lifting her up by her head
and pulling her toward the pool.	
	She's half dragged behind him, moving on shattered knees.
	He takes her to the edge of the water.
	Matt follows.
	Ward unholsters his gun.
	"Let's blow her fucking head off."
	Matt unholsters his weapon.
	Both men put their guns to the back of the tottering blonde's blood-spattered
scalp.  She rests on the pool's edge on her elbows and gouged kneecaps. She has left a
trail of blood and guts all the way back to the grass.  Her blinded, X branded face
hovers over the bloody water.
	"On three," Ward states flatly.
	"One..."
	Its coming now, she realizes dimly.
	"Two..." she can feel her insides spilling out of her on to the concrete patio,
pancreas, large intestines, a hot muck snailing down her thighs... she's pissing blood.
	"Three!"
 	Tori! Michael! Kimmie!  There is a memory of sunlight.  It is her wedding day
and Paul reaches out to lead her to the altar - there are bells - music -
	- her burned lips gape -  
	She does not hear it or feel it but for the men it is so beautiful they almost cum.
	Their weapons explode in the night, one loud boom-flash, yellow blue red, and
Connie's head literally shatters like a watermelon struck by a sledge hammer, face,
and skull blown clean across the swimming pool, her mutilated body driven upward
into the air, pirouetting, spinning out over the water to splash down across the floating
bodies of her children and the cheerleaders which have clustered near the center of the
pool.  Her brain matter speckles the wall of the utility shed, a small windowless building
on the other side of the pool.  Some of it rolls across the diving board into the water,
some of it over the patio chairs.  Her mutilated body twitches spastically before settling
into the rolling surface on her back, faceless, nearly headless.
	"Shit," Ward hisses, holstering his gun.
	"That was awesome," Matt says softly. "Fucking awesome." He too holsters his
weapon. "How many's that now?"
	"Seven," Ward replies.
	Above them the moon is slowly disappearing behind a bank of clouds.
	"Seven," Matt confirms counting the corpses in the pool. "And five left in the
house."
	Dead meat floating, he thinks to himself looking at the cadavers in the water and
adding to his list of favorite things.
	The smell of roasting flesh floating in the air.
	Ward goes to the grill where Connie's liver now smoulders and drips and hisses
enticingly.
	"I'll get a plate from the kitchen," Matt says turning and moving toward the
house.
	Ward turns the meaty mass over on the grill with a basting fork so that the
uncooked portion can be exposed to the glowing coals.  It will make a nice appetizer,
he thinks.  A very tasty appetizer to be sure. But it will surely be outclassed by the main
dish, the entree the killers have saved for the end - Stella Dalwell, prickteaser of Cordero
High. And before that there will be more, much more for the Rodriguez mother and
daughters.  
	The night stretches ahead. Many hours left to be filled.
	By the time Matt returns with a plate for Connie's liver the moon has already
disappeared from the night sky and a cold wind sweeps the trees.
	Soon it will start to rain.

__________________________________

	Thad picks up the crowbar.
	He walks slowly toward the bed.
	The child's tear-filled eyes watch him.
	He has stretched little Isabel out between the brass headpost and footpost, legs and
arms far apart, ankles and wrists tightly secured to the metal frames so that the nude
five-year-old is actually suspended above the sheets, face up, her beaten body pulled into
a taut X', electrical wire gouging into her limbs.
	He touches her with the cold steel, caresses her with the curved fork-shaped tip of
the crowbar. The rusty implement leaves brownish smears on her sweaty welt-riddled
skin.  He runs it gently up and down her bruised legs, tapping on her knees, smiling as
she looks up at him trembling, sobbing mutedly.  He touches her raped babycunt with it
beginning to stroke himself.  Lovingly he traces her hips and belly.  He teases her belly
button with the forked tip.  He presses metal into her tiny red nipples, teasing the one he
has slashed open.
	"Who do you belong to?" he asks her softly, touching her shoulders with the
crowbar. "Hmm? Who does little Isabel belong to?"
	She whines pitifully.  She expects to be struck at any moment with the heavy tool
and she doesn't know how to answer him.
	"I belong to you, master," he tells her. "Say it for me, Isabel. I want to hear you
say it."
	"I - I be-belong to - to - y-you - m-master -?"
	"That's right. Good girl.  Say it again for me."
	He taps her belly with the crowbar.
	"Mmm - I belong - I belong to you, mas-master."
	Her tiny girly voice saying those words gives him goosebumps.
	He pushes the cold crowbar softly against her small neck.
	"Again, sweetie. Say it again."
	He feels the vibrations of her voice in his hand as she speaks.
	"I belong to - to you, master."
	"Lick," he tells her moving the metal weapon to her lips. "Lick it for me - yess -
that's right."
	Her pink tongue moves tentatively over the rusty forked steel, her terrorized eyes
locked with his.
	"I'm going to break you now, Isabel."
	His words have an actual physical effect on her.
	"Noooooo," she groans, shrinking from the crowbar, turning her face away,
tugging against her wire-bound limbs.
	"Did I tell you to stop licking?!" he snaps.
	Unwillingly, she returns to the subservient task, covering the tip of the crowbar
with her spit.  
	Thad begins to stroke himself as he talks to her in a subdued, fatherly voice.
	"Yes. I'm going to break your bones, sweetheart. You know why?"
	She shakes her head, still licking, her eyes fixed on her captor, she trembling, tiny
tremors moving through her small welt-ridden body .
	"Because I want to.  Because you belong to me and when a little girl belongs to
me I do whatever the fuck I want to do with her. That's why." He moves the crowbar
away from her licking mouth to the top of her wet scalp, his voice calm, almost
monotonous. "I've fucked you. I've cut you, I've beaten you. I've pissed on you and in
you and made you eat my shit - now I'm going to break your little bones." As he
continues talking to her, his eyes never leaving hers, he rubs the steel weapon in her soft
moist hair, then over the slash-cuts in the palms of her hands, then down her arms and
sides down again to her cute pussy mound, to prod and push into the tiny pink labia. "Its
going to hurt you a lot, Isa - I'm going to break your arms and legs - both of them. You
won't be able to walk anymore. You'll be like a little broken doll.  Do you understand?"
	She whines and nods slowly, the edges of her mouth downturned.
	"Yes, you do. You're such a smart little girl, aren't you?"
	He moves the crowbar now down to her shin, to the spot at the halfway point
between her knee and her ankle.
	"You probably would have been a straight A' student in school - but there won't
be any school for you, Isabel."
	He raises the crowbar high over his head.
	She sees it swoosh down, so fast it was just a blur.
	It strikes with a loud crunching wack and pain roars through her.
	Her scream is deafening.
	The leg is bent inward where the iron has struck and already swelling.
	Slowly, but purposefully, Thad moves around the bed. He lifts the crowbar to her
other leg, taking aim as she sniffles and sobs.
	"Here it comes again, ready or not, you little piece of shit."
	Again he raises the crowbar high.  He swings even harder this time.
	A quicker swoosh is followed by a crushing thud.
	Again Isabel shrieks, her cry shorter this time, strangled in her throat.
	"Yeahh," Thad grunts jerking himself with his other hand. "Scream your fuckin'
head off."
	Thad moves one step toward the headpost and takes aim on the child's arm, just
above her elbow.
	"This is what all cute smart little bitches like you deserve.  Look at me, Isabel! I
want to see your eyes when I hit you."
	She has turned away, eyes shut tightly.  He waits for her to look up at him.
	Both her legs now are impossibly twisted.  Her right leg, which he's just struck is
bleeding where bone fragment have sliced through skin.  Her whipped feet were
twitching against the binding wire.
	"Fucking little scumbag - here it is!" he snarls and swings the crowbar down into
the child's unprotected arm shattering both radius and ulna bones and dislocating her
shoulder.
	She stretches out and keens frenziedly as he moves around the bed watching her. 
He's tempted to gouge her cunt out with the crowbar, to bash her hips and her ribs, and
her pretty little head, but he resists and instead stands next to her to take aim on her left
arm, again just above the elbow.
	She knows it's coming and she wriggles and sobs and pleads with him and he
makes her wait for it, makes her wait a while for it.
	"That's right - beg me - beg me, you little sleazepup - little shitweasel -" he
mutters smiling, looking down at her as she whines pitifully.
	"Who do you belong to?" he asks again suddenly, loudly, boisterously.
	She blubbers and shakes her head.
	"I asked you a question, stupid. Who do you belong to?"
	"Y-you," she groans. "I be-belong to y-you, m-master."
	"You better fuckin' believe it."
	He rears up, raises the crowbar and looks right in her eyes as he strikes the
hardest blow, the final one, again shattering both arm-bones, the forked metal gouging a
slash in her skin and popping her upper arm out of its socket as she wail-squeals and
arches her back, stretches her neck and cranes her little head back to look at the
headpost upside down.
	He waits for the massive impact-agony to subside and he raises the bar to her lips.
	"Kiss it, bitch. Kiss the steel that breaks you."
	Still crying fitfully she manages to obey.
	After she kisses the crowbar he puts it down on the night table and begins to untie
the broken child.	
	The time has come to reunite the Rodriguez family.


9,

 	Kyla heard each of the four heavy thumps from upstairs followed by Isabel's
hysterical screams - how could she not? - but in no way was she prepared to see the
killer coming down the stairs with her broken child in his arms. 
	Isa's head hung over his arm, draped back, her broken limbs swollen and darkly
bruised. 
	Kyla gave out a hopeless moan. Isabel's mom's eyes said it all even as the black
rubber ball in her mouth prevented the words: 
	My baby. What have you done to my baby?
	Ignoring her, Thad walked past Kyla,  strode nonchalantly into the living room
and laid Isabel on the bloody tiled floor near Stella Dalwell, who looked on in quivering
terror as the child was placed at her bound feet. 
	At first Kyla thought Isa was dead but then she saw the child stir and groan
painfully. There were red and purple-black welts all over the five year old's body and
hideous impact wounds on all four of her limbs.  She had been tortured and beaten
beyond all reason.  
	And there before her stood the one responsible for it - obviously proud of his
inhuman work.
	Thad studied Kyla as the pregnant woman looked down on her punished child. 
	He liked what he saw, the love, the concern, the horror, the helpless anger, all
mixed together on the suspended ball-gagged bitch's face.  It made his cock throb
demandingly.  This is what few men ever dare to feel, he thought.  It was one of the
perks of being a member of the Black X.
	He went to Kyla and reached up to release her wrists from the cuffs.
	Kyla's legs gave out weakly as she was let down to the floor and she sank
involuntarily to her knees before the killer.  She started to reach up to ungag herself.
	"Leave that on your mouth," he ordered.  "There's no reason for you to remove
it. Nothing you have to say counts anymore."
	He pointed down at Isa's body on the floor.
	"Crouch over her," he told Kyla.  "Do it. Get your cunt over her face."
	Kyla moved toward her broken daughter awkwardly but subserviently
maneuvering into the position Thad had indicated.  She wanted to reach down and
embrace the child, to hold her close, but she did not dare disobey the brutal agressor.
	Thad looked up at Stella.
	"You," he indicated.  "I want you to kneel on Kyla's shoulders."
	"Mmfff!" Stella protested.
	The killer moved to the suspended cheerleader to uncuff her ankles.
	When Kyla was in position Thad lifted Stella's legs on to the pregnant woman.
	Yvette, dizzy and weak from the torture of being rigidly suspended, one leg high
to the pulley line which stretched to the hook in Alina's pussy lips, watched the
humiliating debasement Thad was executing with Isa and Stella and her mom.  Alina's
leg hung on the pulley line like a lead weight and gouged out her older sibling's pussy-
lips. The pert blonde cheerleader was exhausted and no longer able to keep her own leg
up and Alina's swollen and deformed vulva spewed blood droplets that trickled down the
mind-blown thirteen year old to the floor. Yvette had no idea how long she and Alina
had been hanging there.  It felt like an eternity, a timeless void filled with excruciating
suffering.  Alina now and then groaned and muttered and streams of drool dripped from
her ball-gagged mouth but she had still to raise her head and look around.  Yvette, on the
other hand, except for a brief time, had been mostly conscious, making constant eye-
contact with Stella and with her mother - especially when the killers moved through the
house, or when screams and noises from outside or from upstairs had sparked terror and
concern in the three females.	 
	A new and more sickening sense of dread posessed Yvette.  She could feel that the
violence in the men had escalated and that it was continuing to escalate.  She knew
events were moving rapidly toward some terrible and unforseeable climax.
	Thad went into the kitchen and returned with a small plastic bottle of mineral
water from the refrigerator.
	He paraded imperiously around the living room making a show of uncapping the
bottle and drinking the contents, licking his lips after a few loud gulps.
	"Anybody thirsty?" he asked sardonically, holding the bottle for all to see.
	He touched the moist side of the bottle to Stella's flushed cheek.
	"How about you, cunt? How about a long drink of fresh clean cold water?"
	"Ghhmm!" she grunted with frustration.
	"How about you, Mrs. Rodriguez?" he taunted, leaning down to show Kyla
the bottle. He took another long swig circling around the disarray of furniture, his feet
tracking through the bloody floor and leaving red foot prints on the tiles.
	"Or maybe all of you need a little visit to the potty?" he asked, his voice
exaggerated.
	He tipped the bottle and let the water run out on the floor.
	"How about it Kyla? Hmm? Need a bit of relief?"
	The sound of the liquid trickling on to the tiles made Kyla's overfull bladder nearly
burst and she realized suddenly that this was Thad's devious intention. It was exactly
what the killer wanted.
	How could someone be so evil, so calculating?
	Thad moved toward the crouching pregnant woman as he continued to 
spill the water from the bottle.
	"I know you need to go. All of you. But especially you, mom. Hmm? You've
been tied up for more than ten hours now. That's tough. Ten hours is a real long time.  I
know little Stella here tinkled all over herself earlier this afternoon and poor Isa - well
she's pretty much drained, aren't you, pumpkin?  Alina and Yvette - well they may need
it too - but you, Mom. I know you do need to go - real - fucking - bad - don't you?"
	He now dripped the cold water right on Kyla's back.
	She flinched in response to the sensation of the fluid moving down her side and
down one buttcheek and thigh.
	"Ngg! Ngg!" she grunted., trying to hang on and not pee all over her broken
baby.  Stella's knees poked down into her shoulders and kept her in place.
	"Piss on her!" Thad growled. "Piss on your worthless little pup, bitch. Empty
yourself on her. Drown her in it."
	Kyla could just barely peer over the edge of her huge belly down into Isa's eyes
and the top of her baby's head.  The child was barely conscious.
	Don't know how much longer I can hold it, she thought to herself. - I'm sorry,
sweetie - I'm so sorry.
	Thad began to drip the remaining water on Kyla's head. It slithered down into her
scalp chllingly when suddenly there was the sound of a double gunblast from outside.
         "Wugghh!" Stella groaned as Kyla looked up at her in surprise.
	Stella's bladder let go and a spray-stream of urine squirted from her cunt right
into Kyla's startled face blinding the gagged woman.
	The reflex of release moved down Kyla's body and she could contain herself no
longer, the piss fairly exploded from her to spatter and drench little Isa's face and hair,
the child closing her eyes and trying fruitlessly to escape the gush.  Dark stinking urine
flowed from Stella on to Kyla's face and ran down her full tits and swollen belly to mix
with the pregnant woman's own waste fluid and spill on to the broken five year old on
the floor puddling around her twitching body.
	Alina looked up startled finally out of her stupor.
	"Whh?" she grunted and a yellow flow mixed with blood hissed from her pierced
pussy.  She started to kick and jerk around wildly as she pissed herself, her labia burning.
	"Nhh! Nhh! Nhh!" Yvette shrieked through the gag in her mouth as Alina's leg
tugged violently on the pulley line.  In response to the sharp pain in her pussy Yvette's
leg too tugged wildly until in one simultaneous yank both sisters drew their upflung
legs down and tore out the hooks along with chunks of cuntmeat.  Yvette too began to
piss urine and blood as she screamed her head off, both suspended girls now shrieking,
bleeding and evacuating their bladders.
	When the girls finally went quiet, Thad noticed movement and sounds coming
from the kitchen and moments later Ward and Matt appeared in the living room
doorway.
	"Goddamn," Ward commented.  "Thad's got a piss party goin' on in here. Shit,
man, why didn't you invite us?"
	"Thought you were busy," Thad replied holding the empty water bottle to
Stella's spurting pisshole, letting it refill with urine.
	When it was three quarters full and the girl had all but finished, her pussy just
dripping short hot trickles as she tried to keep her balance kneeling on Kyla's
tottering shoulders, Thad pulled Kyla's head back by her hair and tugged the ball gag
from her mouth to let it dangle around her neck.  The pregnant woman's own urine
stream had died down to spurts.
	Thad pinched Kyla's nostrils keeping her piss-soaked face pulled back as he
brought the nearly full bottle of Stella's urine to the pregnant woman's lips.
	"Swallow every goddamn drop or I'll feed it to Isabel," he growled darkly.
	She nodded desperately, brows furrowed, her hands gripping her thighs,  her
mouth wide as he put the tip of the bottle to her lips and tilted it.  The men looked on
stroking themselves as Kyla began to gulp down the hot fluid noisily.  Stella turned
away.  Yvette and Alina hung in sobbing dejected suffering.  Kyla's eyes fluttered shut as
she concentrated on the disgusting acrid liquid moving down her throat and esophagus
into her stomach.  It didn't seem there could be so much urine in that small bottle. 
When was it going to end?  She opened her eyes to look and discovered she still had a
quarter of the way to go.
	"Keep going," Thad urged. "Keep drinking - that's right - Check er out, guys.
Maybe Trevor'll wanna use her on one of his scat videos. What do you think?  Would
you like that slut? Huh?  Shit and piss videos sell really well in Europe and Japan. Did
you know that? Mmm - very nice - Taste good? Huh? Does that shit taste good?  I bet it
doesn't. I bet it's making you wanna throw up, isn't it, cunt? Well - better not - that's
right - almost done - we don't want Isa to have a to drink the rest do we?"
	"Too bad we drained ourselves on that bitch outside," Ward said. "Or we'd
contribute to the proceedings."
	Matt chuckled.
	"Yeah," Thad said tilting the last few drops into Kyla's mouth and releasing
her so that she gasped for breath and hung her head, piss-wet hair dripping down
on Isabel's eyes as the beaten child looked up at her pregnant mom. "We heard the
gunshots out there - Guess Connie blew away."
	"Gone with the fucking wind," Matt commented.  
	"This whole fucking party'll be gone with the wind soon," Ward said picking his
way through the helter-skelter disarray of furniture and broken glass, moving toward
Yvette and Alina.  He stood between both suspended piss-and-blood-dripping girls
grabbing them by their butts to turn them so that they, on either side of him, faced the
other two men across the room.
	"We've been doing all the work so far," he said looking from Alina to Yvette
and back as he continued to hold them there, on display. "Why don't we get some
dildos and let mom take over for a while?"
	"Sounds like a fucking great idea to me," Thad commented.
	With fresh energy the killers moved into action.
	Alina and Yvette were released from suspension.  Along with Stella they were
made to kneel on the center table, and crouch down, their flushed faces against the
polished cedar,  Stella in the middle flanked by the Rodriguez sisters, all three with their
asses up in the air - Stella's most prominently with the small rose tatoo on the left cheek
- and their hands cuffed behind them and the ballgags in their mouths.  The infamous
Tommy Dildo was ripped slowly out of Yvette's asshole making the cheerleader scream
and puke up bile.  A ten inch dildo with small steel studs all over it and a tiny lancet on
its tip was strapped to  Kyla's waist.  The pregnant woman's wrists were manacled to a
broad leather strap around her hips, arms pulled to her sides.
	Then Isabel was hung by broken arms and shattered legs from hooks in the
ceiling beams, face up, right above the three kneeling girls.
	Kyla's ball gag was removed and a dildo gag inserted into her mouth.  It was
six inches long with tiny needle like spikes sprouting all along its length.  The shaft
projected outward from a base with a strap which was buckled tightly around Kyla's
head giving her a bird-like appearance, as if the dildo-shaft were her beak.  Inside
her mouth the dildo shaft was a rubber plug which filled her oral cavity and pressed
into her throat hole.
	The men instructed Kyla to crouch behind the kneeling girls and fuck them
with the long dildo strapped to her waist.  The pregnant woman was jostled into position,
and forced to obey and then told to push her dildo-beak into little Isabel's knife-gouged
asshole.  It took them a while but finally the men had her doing exactly what they
wanted and they sat back, Ward on the couch, Matt and Ward in the easy chairs to
watch.
	Kyla had no choice but to do as she was told.  She thought that as long as she
continued to entertain the men all five of them, Stella, Alina, Yvette, Isabel and herself
would stay alive - maybe half alive, maybe traumatized forever but even that was
something to cling to at all costs, far preferable to the alternative.  Maybe the men
would tire. Maybe someone, anyone, would finally come to the house and maybe, unlike
Connie Spell, they would not be caught off guard and they would warn the authorities. 
As long as there was life there was hope.  So Kyla pushed the dildo into her daughters
and into Stella pumping her hips to thrust it deep, the sharp lancet on the end piercing
the walls of the kneeling victims' uteruses, just like the killers wanted, first in their cunts
and then in their assholes, tearing up their intenstinal tracks, poor Yvette screaming in
horrible pain as her ravaged anal passage was rubbed freshly raw by the new invasion. 
Alina and Stella sobbing desperately as the pregnant woman slammed and shimmied the
studded rubber home reluctantly in their tormented bodies.
	But the most difficult part of all for Kyla was to drive the dildo-gag in her mouth
into her piss-soaked five year old.  The effort to do so made her move the pregnant
woman move her head back and forth like a crazed hen, the thick rubber plug pushing
back into her throat and gagging her, her neck and shoulders aching - it horrified her
because she could see the damage she was doing to her child up close.  As she drove
inward little Isa shrieked and kicked her broken legs and waggled her broken arms and
as Kyla pulled back she would see the spiked dildo emerged frothy with blood and
mucous.  It was nearly impossible for her to co-ordinate the thrusts of her hips with the
thrusts of her head as the men wanted but as they urged her on she tried desperately to
please them knowing that the clock was running out, trying to prolong the hideous
sexual charade as long as possible.
	Her feet slipped on the blood and piss on the floor and she had to worry
about keeping her balance, sometimes leaning her heavy pregnant body forward into
whichever girl she was pushing into at the moment to keep from falling, unable to use
her bound hands for support.
	Ward, Thad and Matt looked on.  Their sadistic gluttony had seldom been
so rewarded as on this hunt.  The sight of their prime swollen-bellied captive fucking
Stella, Alina and Yvette, slamming her dildo-beaked face into the broken suspended child,
was a once-in-a-lifetime event and one Thad did not neglect to get up and set up both
video cameras for, making sure they were well focused on the action, before returning to
his seat.  It would make great background footage at the Island's festivities.
	The killers jerked off and shouted instructions and insults at Kyla.
	"Harder, bitch!"
	"C'mon - move those hips!"
	"Fuck that cunt you fat cow!"
	Ward rose to take Kyla by her shoulder and pry her face out of Isabel's ripped-
apart asshole.
	"Put it in her cunt, now," he ordered bluntly.
	She looked at him pleadingly.
	"Don't fucking eyeball me, bitch. Just do it."
	So Kyla now thrust her dildo beak into little Isa's battered pussy, raping her
baby and thrusting into Stella's asshole simultaneously.
	"Jerk your head back and forth - get the blood out of er!"
	"Keep those hips pumpin'!"
	"Faster, bitch!"
	"Harder!"
	As the minutes dragged on the men became more excited and finally could not
resist but to jump into the fray.
	They took the ball-gags from Stella, Alina and Yvette and slipped metal ring
gags in their place.
	Each man took one of the kneeling victims - Ward, Stella; Matt, Alina; Thad,
Yvette and while Kyla dildo-fucked them they fed the suffering teens cock, shoved
angrily down their throats, pinching the little bitches nostrils to gag them with
prick meat.
	The stink of murderous men, and suffering females, of blood, piss and shit filled
the living room.
	Finally tiring of this savage episode and needing to move to the next crucial step
Ward pulled his cock from Stella's mouth came around the table and dragged Kyla
back from the kneeling victims.	
	He unbuckled the straps that held the now blood-smeared dildos in place and
tossed the implements aside.
	She knelt on her haunches at his feet.
	Matt and Thad continued to push their cocks into Alina and Yvette.  Matt pulled
Stella to him and made her slide down and lick his balls while Alina was forced to
continue mouth-fucking him.
	"Ok, pig," Ward told Kyla as he stared down at her, slowly stroking himself as he
spoke.  "We've come to a crucial crossroad here."
	"P-please - don't - kill - us -" She blurted out, her mouth red, lips swollen from
the friction of the penis gag.
	"Shut the fuck up and listen."
	" - pl - pleease -"
	He slapped her hard across the face.
	"I said shut the fuck up, you stupid cunt! You hear me?!"
	She nodded, her eyes tearing up, her ears ringing from the smack.
	"Now here's the way its gonna be," he told her, his eyes blazing with controlled
fury, as he leaned toward her. "The Dalwell cunt is gonna die. There's no getting around
that."
	Stella whimpered in reaction to his words.  Matt smiled with pleasure and held the
helpless cheerleader by her blonde hair to his balls.
	Kyla's eyes blinked and she twitched in response to the utter finality of the killer's
message.
	"And you and your three girls should be meat as well except that well - since
you've all put on such a good show for us - out of the kindness of my heart, I'm gonna
do something I've never done before."
	He sat on the chair and pulled her in by her hair, up on her knees and between his
brawny thighs.
	"Did you ever see that stupid movie, Sophie's Choice'?"
	Kyla nodded nervously, dreading what was coming.  He was so close to her face
she could smell his breath on her as he spoke, a musky animalistic smell. An involuntary
twinge rippled through her clitoris.
	"Well I thought that movie was a piece of shit except for one part I've always
wanted to try - that's the part where this bitch and her two kids are sent to
a Nazi concentration camp. When they get there, the badass S.S. officer who's in charge
of deciding who goes to the work camp and who goes to the gas ovens, sees her and her
two little babies - this guy's a man after my own heart.  He gives Sophie a choice.  He
tells her: We kill both your kids now or you choose one for us to take and we'll let the
other one live.'  Remember that part?"
	Kyla nodded, her eyes already tear-filled and dripping.
	"Well, mom, its your turn to choose.  Two of your babies live. One of them dies
tonight.  Which one will it be?"
	"Oh G-God - I - can't - please - I can't do th-that -"
	He released her hair and glared down on her.
	"Can't do it? Well let me make it clearer for you.  Either you pick one of your
three little mongrel princesses now or all of them and you die."
	Kyla remembered that in Sophie's Choice even the child that was chosen to live
had eventually died in the camp.
	"H-how do I know you're telling me the truth?" she asked trembling. "How do I
know you won't go ahead and torture us and kill us like you've done with the others?"
	"You don't  know," Ward said rising to stand over her unholstering his gun.  He
nodded at Matt and Thad and they too unholstered their weapons and stepped back
from the three girls on the center table.
	"I guess you'll just have to take a chance on it," Ward concluded, flipping the
safety off the .45 and putting it to Isabel's head.  The child still hung from the ceiling,
blood dripping from her little cunt and from her knife-slashed asshole.  She moaned
weakly but seemed unaware of what was happening. Matt put his gun to Alina's head
and Ward to Yvette's. 
	"You've got ten seconds to decide.  If you haven't made up your mind by then
we'll kill your three daughters right in front of you so you can watch em die - and then
we'll cut your baby out of you and throw all five of you in the fuckin' pool - And don't
think this means I've forgotten about you, Stella dear."
	This time Stella remained silent. Yvette glanced at her but the blonde blue-eyed
cheerleader avoided her friend's eyes.  Stella didn't want to see the gun pressed to
Yvette's temple.
	"Alright,"Ward said. "Its decision time." 
	"Ten -"
	Kyla whimpered. Visions flooded her mind.
	"Nine -"
	Birthday cakes, tiny candles being blown out, and laughing children, camera
flashbulbs going off, loud music playing, little girls running around in the yard of their old
house on Limon Street.  
	"Eight -"
	The delivery room, the maternity ward in the hospital, Frank smiling down,
flowers by the bed, the doctor saying - Easy - easy - one more push, Mrs.
Rodriguez."
	"Seven -"
	Christmas in Los Angeles with Frank's parents, abuelo and abuela, gifts for
the girls, Isa just a baby.
	"Six -"
	Her wedding day.  Frank making love to her in the courtyard of a honeymoon
cottage complex by a river at night.  Frank tying her to the bed inside later. "I like
it this way,"he told her roughly.  She liked it that way too, helpless for him.  She liked it
when he sometimes slapped her or whipped her with his belt, or called her names.  
	"Five -"
	After Alina things were not the same.  Frank was aloof.  His lovemaking had
become more violent.  Maybe he was seeing someone else. Then he'd stopped giving her
what she wanted - what she longed for -
	"Four -"
	Alina and Dora, Kyla thought. How could she not have noticed that? How could
her own daughter betray her, lie to her?  But could she condemn her to death for that?
Was that fair?
	"Three -"
	Oh God, dear sweet Jesus, I can't say Yvette - not Yvette - she's the one with the
most promise. So smart and pretty.  Alina - yes - Alina's mind is broken - she'll never
be the same.
	"Two -"
	Hundreds of afternoons, and mornings, and evenings, playing with them and
cherishing them and buying them clothes and feeding them and taking care of them
when they're sick - Not Alina - my pretty darkhaired baby - Isa - Isa is in so much pain -
She's completely broken.  She'll never recover.  She'll live a life of pain and misery.
God help me!
	"One -"
	"Isa!" she gasped. Time had run out. What else could she do? "Isa! Take Isa!"
	"Are you sure that's what you want?" Ward asked her.
	"S that your final answer?" Matt joked, mocking the famous million-dollar TV
quiz show line.
	Kyla nodded and hung her head sobbing.  She had just condemned her youngest 
child to death.
	The killers re-holstered their guns.
	"Alright, cunt," Ward said standing over her. "Now here's the twist."
	She raised her head slowly and looked at him.  She had never seen such gloating
cruelty - never in her life. 
	"You're gonna do it for us."
	"Wh-what?"
	"You're going to kill her."
	His words ripped through her.
	"Get up. I want you on the couch," he ordered reaching down to pull the
confused pregnant woman up by her tangled dark hair, releasing her wrists from the
manacles on the strap that circled her waist, pushing her toward the sofa.  He made her
wait there while he went into the dining room and returned with a thick plastic vibrator
shaft from which a wire leading to a control switch dangled.  He made her spread her
legs wide and he spat on the vibrator and pushed it up into her cunt, slowly, hilting up
inside her as she stood submissively, hands at her sides. Once the dildo was all the way in
he swung her around and shoved her down to sit on the couch. He took the control
switch and placed it on the floor in front of her, the wire running down between her
thighs.
	Matt and Thad released Isabel from the suspension ropes.  The child wailed and
squirmed in pain as Thad carried her, his hands under her dislocated shoulders, to positon
her on Kyla's lap, facing away from Kyla, straddling her mom's knees between her small
busted-up legs.
	Kyla took her by her hips to hold her up.
	"Its ok now," Kyla whispered into Isa's ear leaning forward. "Its ok, baby,
mommie's here - mommie's right here..."
	Isa's head sagged forward and bloody drool dripped from her mouth.
	Ward brought another instrument from the box in the dining room.
	How could there be such cruelty in the world? Kyla thought as she saw the object
he'd fetched. How could such a thing be possible?
	It was a chrome collar with sharp two-inch stainless steel spikes pointing inward. 
A leash-like leather cord hung from it.  He raised it in front of Kyla to show her how it
worked.  When he pulled on the cord the collar slowly squeezed shut and the spikes
pierced into the center. 
	Ward opened the collar and placed it around Isabel's neck. The spiked ring rested
on her dislocated shoulders. The child, lost in her suffering, unaware of her surroundings,
didn't even take notice.
	The killer handed Kyla the cord.
	"She's yours now," he told her. "Do her as slow or as fast as you wish. I'll leave
that up to you.  But you should know, once the spikes pierce the arteries in her neck
she's finished."
	"Bastard," Kyla sobbed.
	"From you that's a compliment," he replied. "If you don't pull on that cord you
know the consequences."
	Yes, Kyla thought. The consequences. One life exchanged for three - hanging on
the word of a heartless killer.
	"How can you do this?"
	"Cunts always ask shit like that," Matt commented.
	"Stupid cunts," Thad added.
	"That's right," Ward agreed picking up the vibrator control from the floor in
front of Kyla and stepping back to watch. "Only stupid cunts ask questions that have no
answer.  Now - stop wasting our time and start pulling on that fucking cord."
	Kyla's eyes moved down to her youngest child riding on her legs.  With one hand
Kyla steadied Isa's broken body by her hip and with the other she held the strangling
cord. 
	Thad had used Isabel brutally. That was painfully clear.  He had unleashed his
sickest desires on the child. Isa had been raped unmercifully. There were welt-cuts and
dark purple bruise lines and bite marks and undefined  striations of every kind.  The
toddler was wet and shivering and here and there bits of excrement and blood still stuck
to her skin and hair.  Both her tiny arms were dislocated at the shoulder and hideous
swollen breaks were evident on her lower arms and legs. Had he hit her with the steel
crowbar she'd seen him take upstairs earlier? Kyla asked herself. The idea was hideous.
So awful as to be preposterous. How could he have used such a weapon on a small
child? Still - whatever he'd hit her with it had smashed right through her.  In one leg the
piece of bone had ripped right through her skin.
	Kyla had begun to cry, biting her lip to keep from screaming.  She couldn't begin
to imagine the suffering her baby had gone through for Thad's manly pleasure. It was
totally unimaginable.
	Smiling, Ward pressed the control switch in his hand to the first notch.
	Kyla felt the sudden vibrations stirring in her pussy, gave out a short stifled
gasp and looked up into the eyes of her tormentor.
	Sick fucks.  All three of them. 
	They were gonna make her kill her own daughter and - and - torment her with the
vibrator at the same time?
	This was insane. Depraved. Barbaric.
	But she had made her choice - like Sophie in the movie Ward had talked about -
the lives of her other two daughters as well as her own life were in in the balance.  For
all she knew these sick bastards would kill all of them anyway.  But, like Ward had said,
what else could she do?	
	She began to pull on the cord, tentatively.
	Irrationally she remembered - Frank had used a vibrator on her a few times.
	Instantly, the collar around Isa's neck began to close and the spikes pushed into
the child's throat skin.
	"Owww!" she moaned. "Muhhmmmiee - hurttss!"
	"Yes, baby," Kyla sobbed. "I know it hurts. I know. Mommie has to hurt you
baby, even though mommie doesn't want to."
	The men stroked themselves as they watched.  Ward moved the control switch up
another notch.
	Yess. Frank had used it and she'd liked it...she'd liked it very much...
	"Whyy, mommie? Why mommie hurt Isa? Bad man hurt Isa but mommie love
Isa."
	"Yess baby - unnhhh - I do love you - I love you very much - ghhh -"
	Kyla tugged on the cord a bit harder.  The vibrator was sending conflicting
sensations through her, stimulating her sexually despite herself, her vagina lubricating
copiously, tiny tendrils of pleasure spiraling up into her belly.
	"Owww! Muhmm! Pleeze!"
	Isabel turned her head to look over her shoulder at her mother.
	"Its cold mommie - metal thing is cold - gghh - mommmaaa?"
	"Shh, baby, shh," Kyla shushed, pulling on the cord, turning Isa's face away with
her free hand. She couldn't bear the child's eyes.  
	Ward pushed the switch up one more notch watching the pregnant woman
intently.   Her cheeks were blushing red. It was impossible for Kyla to deny even to
herself the killer's sadistic ingenuity.  How was it possible these men knew the deepest
darkest corners of her soul, places she didn't know herself and had never visited?
	Isabel reached up with both broken arms, reaching for the killing collar, but the
pain of moving her limbs made her scream and buck on her mom's legs.
	"Keep still, Isabel!" Kyla scolded tearfully. "Keep still - ahhhgg - It'll be over
soon. It'll be over soon baby."
	Kyla's lips swelled slightly and she sensed her mouth water and waves of heat
moved up the back of her neck even as terror and sorrow flooded her.  
	"You scumbag -" Ward whispered, his eyes consuming her.  "You do like
it don't you? You fuckin' love it..."
	Now Kyla pulled hard on the cord and the spikes made a metallic sound as they
sprang in unison and pushed into the soft flesh of the child's neck.
	"Yeahhh," Ward moaned pleasuring himself.
	Stella, Alina and Yvette, still kneeling on the center table, their butts up in the air,
looked back at what was happening on the couch whimpering helplessly.
	Matt and Thad smiled sickly.
	Kyla held on to the writhing child, her long red nails sinking into Isabel's flank.
She yanked on the cord with determination. Faster might be more merciful she thought.
Kyla sat up on the couch and tugged on the strangling line with all her strength.  Isabel
shrieked, the shriek turning into a horrible gurgling as one of the spikes pierced through
her voice-box.
	Ward pushed the control knob to the final notch and Kyla shuddered, her head
craning back, an odd sound escaping her lips, a sound full of sadness and fear but also
unmistakably carnal and lewd.  The killers watched her as she sat up on the couch,
holding Isa on her knees.  Her eyes were shut tightly and she was biting her lip.  Her hips
rolled from side to side as she pressed her ass into the sofa cushion impaling the vibrator
deeper in her cunt.  She shook her head from side to side, visual proof of the conflict
raging inside her.  The vision of the orgasming pregnant woman and the dying child on
her knees fused starkly, raised the stakes vitally for the killers.  Ward looked at the
mother's grimacing face and then at the child's wide-eyed anguish.  Together they were
a perfect portrait of human female suffering.
	Kyla moved her hand up to the child's dislocated shoulder for a better grip. Isa's
broken legs squeezed against her mom's thighs, her cut-up feet against her mom's shins.
The collar now began to crush Isabel's small neck and there was a bone-breaking sound
as the upper vertebra gave away, the child's fractured legs and arms flailing violently, her
mother holding her steady.
	"I love you, Isabel!" Kyla screamed. "I love you!"
	The collar had closed completely and the child's long wheezing death dance
began.
	"I'm sorry, baby!"Kyla whined pitifully. "Ahhh - I'm sorry but I have to!"
	And she yanked as hard as she could on the collar cord.
	"Gg-gg-eeeeiiiiiiii!" Isabel shrieked.
	Blood exploded from her little neck as the spikes gouged both arteries and
tore through the top of her spinal cord.  The child spasmed and projectile-vomited blood
and bile.
	"Rip her fucking head off,"Thad snarled.
	"Kill the fuckin' little worm," Matt added.
	The girls on the center table shut their eyes and sobbed.
	Ward nodded at Matt and the latter left the room momentarily and returned with
the X' branding irons.
	The three killers stepped up, glowing red shafts in hand, and closed in on Kyla and
Isabel on the couch jerking themselves off.
	Kyla rocked back and forth, her unseeing eyes staring upward as she tugged
on the collar line and pulled Isabel back against her tits.  As if on cue, the three killers
raised the branding irons and pressed them into Isabel's belly, then into her chest, leaving
six smouldering black X' smears on the little girl's beaten body. Isa gave out a mewling
cry and the child's strangled head dropped back on Kyla's shoulder - a final series of
spasms moved through her. Isa's eyes were horror wide and her mouth gaping and
spilling pulsing blood.  More blood jetted from the gouging spikes in her neck, ran in
streamers down her X' branded flesh, with less and less force as her heart beat less and
less and finally stopped.
	"Agg - ahg - ahgg -" Kyla grunted as she felt the child go limp.  The vibrator
inside the pregnant woman was going full blast, shocks of orgasmic pleasure ripping
through her womb.  The baby inside her was kicking and pushing against the walls of
her belly.  She hugged Isa now, put her arms around her broken dead child's torso. 
"Sorry, sweetie - uggh - mo-mommie's sorry - sorry - sorry - so - sorry - b-baby -
ugghh -"
	And then, with surprising suddenness, she sat bolt upright and opened her mouth
way wide, her eyes glazed and slitted.
	"Aaahhhhhhwwwhhhh!" she screamed.
	And the men could hold back no longer. They shot hot spattering wads of
jism on the pregnant woman's face as she came and on her dead child's face and body
and on Kyla's arms and pretty hands.
	"Nn-uuuuuwwwggg!" Kyla choke-keened as Ward stepped even closer to
deliver his squirting cum right in her open mouth, to press the head of his cock
against her lovely cum-slack face, blasting manscum into her open eyes and eyebrows
and into her dark hair.
	Kyla leaned back against the sofa cushions, sperm all over her face, her body still
jerking erratically until Ward shut the vibrator off.
	Then, the men stood there, letting their orgasms fade slowly away, watching the
pregnant woman and her murdered death-branded child, a sadistically lovely pieta,
sculpted from real flesh for their vile enjoyment.
	Matt took the branding irons from his companions and exited.
	Thad bent down to take the child from Kyla.
	"No!" Kyla snarled. "Don't touch her!"
	Thad hung back, pleasantly surprised at the fury in Kyla's eyes.
	"Why not?" Ward asked cooly.  "She belongs to us now...You belong to us as
well.  You're one of us, Kyla."
	Kyla stared up at him, her eyes sparkling with anger.
	"I'll never be one of you. Never. And I'll never belong to any of you."
	She tightened her embrace around Isa's small dead body.
	Matt returned and stood near the doorway watching.
	"Really?" Ward countered. "Well - let's see.  You pissed on your baby, fucked
her and your other two daughters with dildos and to top it off you just choke-stabbed
your youngest to death and had one hell of a hair-raising orgasm doing it.  I would say
that makes you a lot like us."
	Kyla's angry expression faded slightly as she realized the unshakable truth in the
killer's words.
	"Yeah, pig," Matt added grinning openly. "Don't even try to deny it.  You came
like fuckin' gangbusters."
	"No -" Kyla whimpered. "No - no -" A trickle of Ward's cum ran down her chin
and dripped on to her breast.
	Now Thad reached down and took the dead child from her and Kyla's arms
fell away.  She watched him leave the room and knew where he was going.  A few
seconds later she heard the splash of water outside.
	"I'm not - I'm not - like you -" she protested weakly, tears streaming down her
flushed face.  "You - you made me do it -"
	"Sure we did," Ward said sliding down on one knee in front of her. "That's
what happened.  We made you do it.  Now open your legs for me - lift them up."
	He slowly withdrew the vibrator from her.  It was slick with her lubricant -
a veritable puddle had spilled out of her and on to the sofa cushion.
	Thad returned as Ward held up the shiny wet vibrator.
	"Whewww," Matt commented. "That's a lotta cumjuice for somebody who
was forced, don't you think so, Thad?"
	"Shit yeah - and by the way, babycakes sank to the bottom like lead."
	Kyla blubbered as the image of Isa sinking into the bloody cadaver-filled pool
moved through her mind.
	Ward leaned over her.
	"You can lie to yourself sweetheart - but we know what's up."
	Then he stood there staring her down.  When she began to sob he said:
	"But just to show you I'm a man of my word here's what happens next.
We're gonna take Yvette and Alina and lock them up in the utility shed outside.
They'll stay there after we're gone.  We won't touch them again."
	Her teary eyes trailed back up to his
	He waited for a moment.  He enjoyed the spark of hope in her glance which he
was about to dash.
	"You'll be leaving with us," he said and then turned and went to the three girls on
the center table.
	The reality of what would happen slowly dawned on Kyla as she watched
	Ward and Matt pull Alina and Yvette up to lead them from the room and out of the
house.  She would never see her two daughters again.
	Thad helped Stella up on her feet.
	"Mmff!" the blonde grunted. "Mmg! Gf! Ghmm!"
	"That's right, slut," Thad told her, leading her into the kitchen.  "Your turn's
finally coming - I know you've been waiting all night for us - I can't apologize enough
for the unforgivable delay."
	A moment later, Kyla realized she'd been left alone in the living room.  
	She could get up and run out the front door, run into the night and look for help,
run naked into the night.  What did she have to lose? The men were going to take her
with them.  Where would they take her?  What were they planning to do with her?  She
realized they were operating to the rules of some macabre plan they'd worked out in
advance.  There was no future for her or the baby inside her except as kill-meat for
them...But she didn't move.  She could hear Thad puttering about in the kitchen, then
the whirring sound of the the drill-bit. He's drilling more holes in the ceiling, Kyla
realized.  The poor Dalwell girl.  She could hear her in there crying, still gagged,
probably kneeling on the floor watching Thad prepare the room for her slaughter. God
only knew what these animals had in mind for the lovely blonde cheerleader.
  	Still wet from her own involuntary pleasure and spattered with the killer's sperm
and with Isabel's blood Kyla sat upright on the couch pondering anxiously. Maybe
Connie Spell had left the keys in the van outside. She'd seen the van in the driveway
through the window earlier, its side door open, the television still flickering in the
darkness. Maybe she could make a run for it, get in the van and start it up before the
killers knew - or maybe by now the battery was dead...She still didn't make a move. 
She thought about what Ward had said earlier that day.  If Kyla ran now Alina and
Yvette would end up in the pool with the others. That was for sure.  Maybe they would
still end up there but - but - surely she hadn't killed her youngest for nothing? (Had she
really done that?!) Maybe the killers would stand by their promise and leave Alina and
Yvette behind.  Maybe they weren't worried about being identified.  After all Kyla
hadn't seen them take any precautions so far.  Their fingerprints and DNA samples were
everywhere on the property - surely they knew any police investigation in a crime scene
this terrible would be ruthlessly detailed.  Maybe - and this last idea left her breathless
and empty - maybe these men had nothing to fear from law enforcement.  They might
be some secret CIA group, protected by the government - some rogue organization of
misfits out of control - unleashing their terror on unsuspecting civilians for the hell of it.  
	Still, Kyla sat there, no longer bound, no longer monitored.  Free to run. Free to
choose.  But she was unable to move - not for all the reasons she kept giving herself
but finally for the one true reason she was trying to avoid...
	(Had she really really done that?!)
	She deserved to die.
	She was a worthless animal - orgasming senselessly while murdering her own flesh
and blood.
	She couldn't shake the image of Ward's leering face watching her and teasing her
notch by notch with the vibrator, higher and higher, deeper and deeper into her
true nature - the stinking slut that lived just under the surface verneer.
	"You scumbag -" he'd whispered.  "You do like it don't you? You fuckin' love
it..."
	Yes, she thought to herself, covering her attractive face with her hands as she
started to sob brokenly. Yes. I do like it.  I do. I do.
	She remembered how the branding irons had sounded as they'd sunk into Isabel's
helpless tormented body - she would never forget that sound and the sound of Isa's
mewling helpless death-cry following it - and Kyla knew full well the reason she wasn't
getting up and running into the night for help.  She knew now that her last real wish, her
last willing desire, was to stay -
	Ward was right after all.
	She did belong to the killers.
	She and the baby inside her.
	Both of them.
	Meat for the killers' soul-less pleasure.
	Aching, blood-drooling meat.
	
	
10.

	When Ward and Matt half-dragged Yvette and Alina to the utility shed outside it
had already started to drizzle lightly.  
	They had pushed the girls past the barbecue grill which they'd carried into the
kitchen earlier after the slaughter of Connie.
	"Good thing we brought this thing inside," Matt commented.  "Damn rain would
have put out the coals."
	The rain was cool on the killers' skin as they walked their captives past the pool.
	Yvette and Alina averted their faces from the floating bodies.
	Matt got to the shed first, opened the door and turned on the overhead bulb.
	The killers found a steel bar in the shed and they bound the girls back to back,
arms out on the bar, rope around their waists and thighs, each victim's ankles roped
together and then six loops of rope around their knees, tight.
	Then the men hung another stretch of rope from a steel hook in the ceiling of the
shed and wrapped it around Yvette's neck hoisting her up on her toes, Alina forced to
rise with her sister while also adding to the weight on the rope.
	"Why don't we just do these little fucks now?" Matt asked.  "I'd love to cut their
pretty little pussies out..."
	"So would I - but you know I'm a man of my word," Ward said.
	Then both men laughed and moved to the door.	
	"Nighty-nite," Matt said as he turned to shut off the light. "Don't let the
bedbugs bite."
	He slammed the utility shed door shut and the girls hung in darkness, ring-gagged,
unable to speak, their tortured bodies now forced into new distress.
	Yvette gasped for air and tried to stay up on her toes.  She noticed that if she
sank down on to her heels the rope squeezed her throat unmercifully and stopped her
breath.  But she knew she could stand that for a few seconds before going back up.
	She'd heard the killer say that she and Alina would be spared and that the killers
would leave and take their mother with them, probably after killing Stella.  Yvette was
still having a hard time grasping not just the events of the whole day but specially what
had just happened in the living room - watching her mom kill Isabel was so revolting and
scary she just avoided the persistent memory and tried to concentrate on survival.
	Alina had snapped out of her catatonic state although her grasp of reality
was nowhere near Yvette's.  She was afraid of the dark and she whimpered hopelessly
after the door was slammed shut.  The utility shed was pitch black and total horror
threatened to engulf her again.  The vision of Isa on mom's lap and the blood
erupting from her little sister's pierced neck and mouth and the branding irons burning
into her was overwhelming -
	Alina shut her eyes and opened them again and realized it was so dark that there
was no difference. After a while she didn't even know if her eyelids were open or closed.
	Both girls trembled. It was cold in the shed.  
	They could hear the patter of raindrops on the tin roof and against the door.
	The pace of the pattering increased.
	They saw the flash of lightning through the crack between the shed door and the
concrete floor and they heard the rumble of distant thunder.
	"Ghmm," Yvette grunted trying to sound comforting.
	" - gh -" Alina responded, pressing her head back against her sister until
they were cheek to cheek. " - gh -"
	Softly the Rodriguez sisters wept in the dark shed.
	
__________________________________	
	
	The killers sat in the dining room.
	Stella Dalwell had been made to bring a serving tray with what was left of Connie
Spell's cooked liver and place it the center of the large glass-top table for them.  Kyla
had been called into the dining room as the men had each helped themselves to modest
portions on their plates.
	As the killers ate the human meat, Stella and Kyla were told to kneel under the
table and crawl from one man to the other caressing and sucking their cocks and balls,
nurturing them back to full-blown erections.
	Since the table had a glass top the men could simultaneously enjoy their
cannibalistic meal and watch the submissive ministrations of the females.
	The men drank beer and consumed another round of amphetamines.
	When they were done with the meat and drink and pills they snorted up several
rows of high-octane-quality cocaine.
	Stella's jaw ached and Kyla's lips were numb from working cockmeat.
	Outside the rainstorm raged violently.

__________________________________


	After dinner' both females were injected with a special cocktail of vitamins,
amphetamines and a special drug designed by a Black X biochemist which heightened
sexual instincts and induced temporary amnesia.
	Then the killers took them upstairs to the master bedroom.
	The bed was stained with Isabel's blood.
	They made Stella lie on her back across the bloody quilt and sheets and they made
Kyla crawl up between the young cheerleader's spread legs and eat her pussy.
	Enhanced by the substances they'd been injected with the females became
obedient and subservient.  Their surrender was complete.
	No order was questioned. No struggle was offered.
	The men made Kyla lie on the sheets, on the bed where Frank had so often made
rough love to her, her dead child's blood sticky wet against her back and they made
Stella now service the pregnant woman, Kyla's opening her legs wide and pulling them
back, Matt and Thad on either side of the bed, Ward uncoiling his single-tail whip to
strike out at Stella's perfect meaty asscheeks.
	Each of the killers took his turn at whipping the young teen, her cries of pain
muffled in Kyla's throbbing pussymeat.
	"Put your tongue in there," Matt snarled at Stella and the child obeyed
giving Kyla quivering pleasure, Kyla's hands gripping the blonde teen's head by her hair
and pushing herself up into her.
	A thick black-latex dildo was strapped around Stella's waist.
	She was made to fuck Kyla while the killers again took turns whipping her.
	The men also took turns climbing up on the bed, one at a time, so that while two
of them whipped the luckless cheerleader, making her thrust herself into the pregnant
woman's waiting cunt, the third stood over her and fed her cock, grabbing her by her
long toussled blonde mane to stuff the prick-teasing teenager's throat chock full of
manmeat.
	Then both women were outfitted with dildo-gags, similar to the one Kyla
had used on Isabel earlier, but without the killing spikes, and the bitches were made to
perform a lesbian sixty-nine, plunging their rubber beaks into each other's 
pussies while the men urged them on, the killers sometimes slamming the females' heads
down to hilt the dildos, sometimes rearing back to whip Stella's back when she was on
top.
	Finally, the dildos were discarded and both bitches were dragged into the
bathroom, the tub filled to the brim with cold water.  The females were handcuffed, arms
behind them and they were forced to kneel at the edge of the tub.  While two killers sank
to their knees behind the captives and put their cocks up between their fleshy buttocks,
Kyla's dark meaty ones and Stella's firm full ones, whip-welted and rose-tatooed, to fuck
the crouching sluts from behind, the third stood in the tub, seized the females' heads and
dunked them into the freezing fluid, holding them under the surface, allowing the
captives just the briefest moment to be yanked up for a breath before being slammed 
back down.  This drowning play excited the killers and they bang-fucked the females
raucously, ramming themselves up to the hilt in ass and cunt holes.
	The fucking intensified.
	Kyla was hauled up on the washbasin and fucked up the ass.
	Stella was punched and slapped and raped viciously on the bedroom floor.
	As the drug took effect both females began to lose all sense of time and place, of
who they were and how they got there.  At the same time their most primitive female
urges, the deep-seated need to be used and filled exploded confusingly inside them.
	Before leaving the bedroom both victims were made to kneel side by side and lick
the crowbar which had been used on Isabel - lick it from top to bottom - then the bitches
were made to lie on the floor so that the killing metal could be thrust into their cunts and
assholes.
	Then Stella was walked down the hall toward the stairs by Thad and Matt.
	Ward led Kyla closely behind.
	At the stairs Stella was suddenly and forcefully shoved and she rolled screaming
and thumping down the steps to the ground floor.
	Kyla, on the other hand, was guided down the staircase, wrists still handcuffed
behind her, Ward gripping her shoulder to help her keep her balance.
	The pregnant cow was being spared for bigger and better things.
	
	
__________________________________

	
	The living room was an alien place for Kyla.  She was completely disoriented
in her own house, as if it were someone else's house - maybe someone she knew, who
had lived there with their husband and daughters.
	(Yvette - Alina - and...)
	The place was a wreck. There was blood all over the floor.
	There had been a young girl named - Carmen? - other young girls - cheerleaders?
Tori, Dora, Kathleen - children - Abigail - Connie?
	 - a little girl - very pretty little girl all beaten up...
	Her mind scattered, moved away from that thought as the men told her to kneel.
	Yes, kneel, yes. This is who and what I am. Kneel. Serve. 
	The teenage girl they'd pushed down the stairs hung now from hooks in the
ceiling by her wrists and ankles - arms and legs apart - waiting to receive - offered up. 
	She looks like an angel up there - one of them - one of the - others? 
	The men told Kyla to kneel under the angel-blonde and behind her and to service
them as they fucked her.
	Kyla loved to kneel, loved to give pleasure.  This was what she'd been born
for - she was sure. This is who I am. Kneel. Serve.
	Each man took his turn while the two others watched.
	They were handsome and young and virile and their long hard cocks were
nasty and she licked their heavy balls which slapped against her chin as they
entered the young girl's (Stella) pussy.
	Stella loved it too.  She groaned and her legs stiffened and her hips gyrated, her
ankles cuffed way high near the ceiling, like her wrists.
	Stella liked it when the men called her prickteaser and slut and whore and
scumbag and drove into her like angry bulls and Kyla lapped eagerly at Stella's
penetrated pussy-slit and at the engorged meatshafts of the men as they fucked Stella.
	Kyla reached out and took the cocks of the other two killers to jerk them off
as she licked and sucked Stella's penetrated cunt.
	Kyla felt something move inside her belly and smiled remembering she was 
pregnant.
	The men called Kyla names too.
	She liked that and she jerked them off and licked them and took their cocks
fresh out of Stella's cunt and asshole down her throat.
	Then two of the men double-fucked Stella and Kyla jerked the other one off while
he waited his turn and she licked cunt and asshole and sucked cock and the men would
push in and out of Stella's pussy or her anus and then into Kyla's waiting mouth - the
one she was jerking off would put his hands on her neck and strangle her.
	The men began beating the hanging teenager with their fists and slapping her.
	Stella moaned with pain but the cocks thrusting into her made her dizzy with
need and the fists pounding into her became like the cocks and when the men slapped
her face she shut her eyes tightly as waves of piercing light shot through her drugged
brain.  She barely remembered being pushed down the stairs.  It had been like flying.
And then being effortlessly yanked up and bound by her wrists and ankles.  Images
sparked through her mind - names - Yvette - Alina - a pool full of dead bodies -
Tori - Kathleen - Dora - Abigail - naked cheerleaders performing for the men -
none of it seemed real - a little girl named Isabel - something about the woman who knelt
down there on the floor under her - they'd made love upstairs - prickteaser, the men
called Stella - Your turn's comin', prickteaser - Oh yeah, your turn's comin'...
	The men punched Stella hard. They punched her belly and her back while they
fucked her.  They squeezed her big juicy creamy tits in their hands.  They pinched
the ruby-red nipples.  Then they punched her there too and if felt - nice.
	"This pig's going down," they said. "You're going down pig - down - down -"	
	Their words echoed senselessly and she french-kissed each killer passionately as
she hung there for their fists and their cocks. Fucked and beaten.
	Prickteaser.
	They smelled of blood and shit and piss - and she didn't know why but she
liked that too - she licked their faces and smiled at them.  Their hateful eyes drilled into
her - killer-eyes fucking her like their fists and their cocks and their slapping hands.
	She was a filthy prickteaser after all.
	"Fuckin' drug works like a charm," Ward commented as he fucked Kyla's
eager mouth, glancing down at her as he waited his turn to go up Stella's tight 
ass, between those white meaty rose-tattooed cheeks - "Doesn't it, pig? Doesn't that
drug work wonders?"
	"Yesss -" Kyla replied mindlessly pulling his cock out of her mouth to answer.
She had no idea what he was talking about.  But she was here to serve. Kneel. Serve.
	"Yess - ssirr -"
	He laughed meanly, grabbed her hair and stuffed his cock back in her mouth.

__________________________________


	They take Stella into the kitchen.  Kyla follows, crawling.
	The room, the house (whoever's house this is) dances in Kyla's head.
	The kitchen is hot - all the burners on the glass-top stove on the island in the
center of the room are on.  There is a large smouldering pan full of hot cooking oil
on one back burner and a frying pan with several long shish-ka-bob skewers in it on the
other. Nothing on the two front burners which glow redly.
	There's a barbecue grill by the door full of glowing coals with several steel shafts
propped up in it.  
	Outside, beyond the open door, the storm pounds rain against the concrete patio
and the windows.
	In her mind, for a brief instant, Kyla sees the rain in shimmering sheets pelting
the bodies in the pool - the gouged bloody gutted bodies -
	Stella is ordered to kneel.
	She's shiny with sweat and bruised from the fall down the stairs and from the
beating and slapping and raping the men have put her through.
	The Black X soldiers take turns fucking the blonde teenager's face, each killer
enjoying several long minutes of pleasure from the mind-fucked tramp while his partners
wait, urgently stroking themselves.  Each killer holds her by her open mouth and deep-
throats Mr.& Mrs. Dalwells lovely teenage daughter gagging her with his huge cock,
strangling her while he mouth-fucks her, rubbing his piss-slit in her eyes and forehead
and cheeks. Each killer has his own style - Ward more brutal and severe, Thad more
controlled, Matt more manic. 
	The heat in the kitchen is intense, almost like a sauna, and the three killers and
Kyla, like Stella, are all soon shiny and dripping.
	Then, Kyla, who kneels on her haunches near the doorway, watches them raise
the cheerleader up on pulley lines that have been drilled into the kitchen ceiling - (Funny
place for those, she thinks to herself, and - those weren't there before - were they?)
	Stella hangs like a skydiving acrobat, wrists and ankles pulled upward in painful
suspension but in her mind she is at a ride at Adventure Theme Park,  a hundred
feet above the ground in the World's Fastest Rollercoaster - The Howling Demon.
	There are three stainless steel syringes, large ones, laid out on the butcher-block
side-table on the kitchen island.  Beside them there's a pair of pliars and a large
black pair of metal tongs.
	(What are those for?) Kyla wonders, her pussy tingling with aticipation.
	She watches the men put on thick work gloves.
	Ward takes one of the steel syringes, dips the needle in the boiling oil and
pulls up on the piston sucking up the fluid.
	"You," he tells Kyla as he lifts the syringe from the pan. "Get over here."
	He indicates a spot right beneath Stella who hangs from the ceiling smiling
obliviously, eyes closed.
	"Kneel there and suck cock," he orders "Just use your mouth on me. No hands."
	As Kyla obediently leans forward to wrap her lips around his shaft the killer turns
to Stella and takes her left breast with gloved fingers to squeeze it firmly.
	"Prime fuckin' meat, guys," he growls. "Prime - fucking - meat."
	He brings the syringe up as he mauls the rosy boob-globe, lifting it from her chest.
	The young girl's shriek of pain is unequivocal as the hot needle enters her
aureola just above the nipple, her legs and arms tugging uselessly against the suspension
cables.  
	Smiling, Ward pushes the piston on the syringe inward injecting a bit of hot oil
into Stella's tit - another scream, higher pitched follows.
	The killer pulls the needle out and pushes it in again into the auerola below the
nipple again pumping hot oil into Stella's mammary.
	He repeats the process two more times on either side of the nipple and then
with a stabbing motion he pushes the needle right into the now engorged tit-cap,
right into the center of it, clenching his jaw as the young bitch howls; he sinks most of
the needle into her and then pushes the syringe plunger to the hilt injecting
two fluid ounces of burning oil into the crazed cheerleader's breast.
	Kyla's head bobs back and forth on the killer's meat.  Somewhere in her mind she
knows that he's hurting the child who hangs above her from the ceiling and the thought
that she is pleasuring him while he does so is horrible, disgusting - but this thought is
disconnected from the ravenous sluttish craving that now consumes the pregnant bitch -
it is as if the conflicting thought are in someone else's head and not in hers.  Instead of
protesting or backing away she gives herself completely to the demeaning task she has
been ordered to perform, drooling on the killer's cock, her hands pressed to her lactating
tits, her fingers squeezing milk from her own nipples even while hot oil is pumped into
Stella's. 
	Stella's boob balloons weirdly, flushed bright red and as Ward yanks the needle
out blood and oil spurt from the nipple and roll scaldingly down its underside and on to
her chest.
	He pushes Kyla off his cock and Thad steps up, picking up a syringe and dipping it
in the boiling oil.
	Kyla starts to take Thad's cock and he grabs her hair.
	"No," he tells her. "Just my balls. Lick them and suck them."
	Then he looks up into Stella's dazed blue eyes as he takes her right breast.
	A few bluish bruises marr the firm female flesh-jug.
	"Beautiful -" he whispers, thrusting the needle into the auerola, just as
Ward did earlier. "Fuckin' beautiful."
	Kyla's warm tongue dances on the killers hanging genital-sacs.  She cups them
lovingly with her lips and sucks them as she continues to tongue stroke the
wrinkly skin. She pushes both her hands into her cunt tweaking her clit to full arousal,
moaning feverishly, as she services Thad.
	Ward and Matt look on, jerk themselves off as Thad drills the screaming
teenager's tit and pumps it full of hot oil until it is as big as red and as swollen as the
other one.  They watch the pregnant woman on the floor unkowingly pleasuring the balls
of the man who brutally raped and punished her baby girl. They are amazed and
delighted by the mind-warping effects of the drug they've administered their victims.
	"That shit is awesome," Ward comments. "Too bad it wears off quick. And it
only has the full effect once.  Never works second time around. Not the same way." 
	Matt steps up as Thad pushes Kyla aside.
	The dark-haired killer takes the third syringe and goes around to stand behind
Stella yanking Kyla around by her hair and down under him.
	"Balls and asshole, pig," he grunts spreading his legs apart. "And stick your
tongue inside me."
	"Yeah!" Thad exclaims. "That's the Matt we know and love."
	As Kyla lowers herself beneath the arch of Matt's legs to do his bidding the killer
reaches up to peel Stella's young pussy open revealing the clit.
	"Here ya go, honeybunch," he mutters driving the syringe needle right into
Stella's sex-nub forcefully.
	Her scream of pain becomes a deafening screech as he shoots the full content of
the plunger into her - Her clitoris and her pussy mound swell as the hot oil sizzles into
her.	 	
	Kyla laps hungrily at Matt's balls, groaning with crazed need, one hand in her
pussy the other squeezing more milk from her nipples. She pushes her nose up between
his firm asscheeks and presses her tongue into his shithole.
	"Put more oil in that cunt,"Ward barks.
	"Yeah," Thad adds. "Fill the bitch up."
	Both men jerk off as they urge their partner on.
	Matt half-turns to re-fill the syringe in the pan of boiling oil.  He pushes his
ass down, smears it on Kyla's face.
	"Yeah, pig, yeah!" he tells the pregnant bitch. "Ream me out!"
	Now wild eyed Matt plunges the needle into the shrieking cheerleader's
pussy lips repeatedly injecting hot oil into the soft pink membranes of her cunt.
	He refills two more times to inject more boiling fluid right into her twat-hole and
inside her until blood and piss and yellow cooking oil pour out of her and down
on Kyla's thighs and on the kitchen floor - until the teenager's cunt is swollen to the size
of a grapefruit.
	Finally Matt kicks Kyla away and steps back.
	The pregnant woman staggers against the kitchen cabinets sprawled on the floor
leaning on one elbow, her breath fast and ragged, her eyes half shut, her lips 
swollen.  Pubic hair and flecks of shit stick to her face.
	She doesn't lie there long.
	Thad reaches down to yank her up on her feet by her hair.
	He grabs a chair from the dinette set in the corner, pulls it out into the middle of
the room, and forces Kyla to bend over the chair-back, her arms reaching down to grip
the front legs.
	"Spread em," he grunts, nudging her thighs open with his  knee. "C'mon. Open
up. Wide. Wider. Wide as you can go, scumbag."
	Kyla's feet move apart on the floor, red-painted toes slipping on the terra-cotta
tiles as Thad now enters her from behind, his hand at the base of her spine pressing her
swollen belly into the hard chair back.
	"Fuck the bitch!" Matt urges.  He and Ward are refilling their syringes.
	"Fuck the goddamn shit out of er!"
	Kyla's head hangs, her forehead banging against the chair seat as Thad grips her
hips and ramrods his meatshaft into her tight asshole.  Fireworks of sensation explode
in her. Her nerve-receptors are turned up to full volume.  Milk spurts from her fat
boobs.
	"Tell me you love me, cunt," Thad growls sawing all ten inches of hard
cock in and out of the drugged pregnant woman.  "C'mon - tell - me - you -
LOVE - me!"
	"Ghaaaa - nnn -"she pants, almost unable to form words. " I - ww -
l - luuhhvv - y-y-yuuhhh -"
	Matt and Ward laugh cruelly and plunge their syringes into Stella Dalwell's
already horribly swollen tit-bags.  They study the hideous anguish that distorts her pretty
face as they inject more boiling oil into her.  She is more beautiful for them this way than
any other, raising her head, craning it back, lips stretched and down-sagging, brows
furrowed, eyes squinched, sweat and tears trailing dark mascara down her cheeks.  The
face of a female in torment, in unspeakable agony, in terrified confusion, is the Black X
soldier's ultimate turn on, ultimate proof that he is succeeding with his intentions.
	For Stella the ride on the Howling Demon is a furious mind-twisting rise and fall.
She imagines herself now bound naked on the bumper of the lead car in the
rollercoaster. Electrical sparks fly up from the rails ahead of her and shoot into her tits
and cunt. As she glides by she sees the Cordero Valley Cheerleaders in full uniform on
the ground below, a streaking blur, their girlish voices raised at her.	
	"Shake it! Shake it! Shake it! - Cordero's gonna make it! - C'mon girl - Shake it!
Shake it! Shake it! Yaaayyy!"
	Stella's tits are now the size of basketballs.
	Ward and Matt put down their syringes and move to Kyla. They hold
drinking glasses pressed under the pregnant woman's tits to milk her while Thad
continues to slam-bang her asshole, fucking the bent over bitch for all she's worth.
	After Kyla's tits are drained, both glasses of warm woman-milk poured into a
carafe, nearly filling it, all three killers take turns fucking her over the back of the chair.
They fill her throbbing cunt and she climaxes repeatedly, mindlessly, the chair legs
rattling against the floor as she grunts and groans like a wounded animal.
	When the men release her she slides to the floor and crawls to the corner of the
room to sit on the floor, lifting her feet on to cabinet door handles on either side,
her legs up off the tiles, as she works her pussy, one hand reaching down over her big
belly and the other on her hot dribbling tits.
	The room swirls wildly around her.
	A clock on the wall says 2:35.
	Sheets of rain smack against the windows.
	There's something out there - the thought flickers - in the pool -
	better not - better not - better not
	who is Isa - Isa - mommaaaa?
	Words bound and rebound senselessly in her head and the heat in her
cunt and her tits is a rage.
	Fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - fuck me
	She sees the men circle the hanging teenager.
	Kill her - kill her - kill her - kill her -  kill - fuck - kill - fuck -
	Her eyes roll back out of focus.

__________________________________


	Matt takes a glowing coal from the barbecue grill with the tongs.
	Ward slips the dental gag into Stella's mouth, clicks it open to stretch her lips
wide.
	"Uuhhhhhggg -" she groans, eyes all bloodshot, snot dripping from her nose,
drool from her gaping mouth-hole, her jaw spread to its limit.
	Matt steps up to her and lifts the smouldering coal to her lips holding her
head by the hair as he stuffs the black bisque into her mouth.
	"GHHRGGHH!" she screeches looking up at him imploringly.
	"Swallow it," he tells her coldly.	
	"GGHHHRRRGG!"
	"I said swallow it, pig."
	She does so shuddering as it strains past her gullet and down her esophagal
tube burning all the way to her stomach, smoke wafting from her burned mouth and
from her nostrils.
	Matt picks up a second piece of ashy glowing coal.
	"Nnnnn! NNNN!" she rants, shaking her head.
	He grabs her by her hair holds her tightly, feeds her the bisque.
	He likes the wild look of her bulging red-rimmed eyes.
	Again, he has to tell her to swallow.
	Stupid cunt. You'd think they'd catch on quicker.
	Ward and Thad stand by.
	They watch Matt feed Stella fifteen pieces of dully-glowing charcoal.

__________________________________


	Kyla watches from the corner as the room spins maddeningly.
	Thad is working the pulleys that hold Stella up by her wrists and legs.
	He gives her wrist lines some slack and the young swollen-titted, swollen-cunted,
burnt-mouthed bitch is lowered, the front of her body hovering over the two front
burners of the glass-topped stove.
	Her oil-filled tits are aimed over the glowing rings of heat.
	Thad lowers her until her punished boob-meat is less than an inch from the
stove top.
	"Nnnggg! Ng-GHH!" she grunts, jerking against the suspension lines.
	"Yeah. Do your little cheerleader dance now, cunt."
	There is no give in the cables the men have set her up on.
	Her black-rimmed lips, scorched by the coals are still spread wide by the dental
gag.  Her blonde hair topples down and the tips of it catch fire and smoulder as they
burn on the stove-top.
	Kyla catches a glimpse of the teenager's swirling tatoo on her shoulder.
	The three killers now take the long skewers from the pan on the back burner, one
skewer each from the thick pile.
	They move around her to push the burning metal shafts into her sides, pushing
them in deep, hilting them in their screaming girl-victim.
	"Dance, you little fuck - Dance!"
	Kyla masturbates herself desperately as the men continue to pick up skewers
from the pan to push them into Stella.  She doesn't know why but she finds the vision of
the inverted teen dangling over the stove being gruesomely tortured incredibly erotic -
Kyla's aroused beyond all reason - beyond sanity - the seething fire in her cunt
completely and inexplicably illogical -
	It goes on and on for a while.
	The men skewer Stella's arms and hands and fingers, pushing right through the
limbs. They skewer her armpits pushing deep past her sweat glands.  They spear her
lovely whip-welted asscheeks placing four skewers just on the rose tatoo.  They stab
them into her thighs and legs and reach up to pierce them through her feet and toes and
heels.
	Finally Ward takes two skewers, pulling Stella's head up by the hair to poke the
hot metal through both lovely blue irises of her eyes, popping the orbs out of their
sockets.
	Kyla lets out a winded grunt as a feverish orgasm pounds through her, another
one following just seconds later.
	Matt and Thad each push skewers into Stella's ears punching through her
eardrums and deep into her head.
	Now Ward reaches up for the pulley line.
	Slowly he lowers Stella's tits right on to the glasstop burners.
	The crazed, deafened, blinded, tormented, mindless cheerleader howls and
keens as her oil-filled boobs sizzle, pop and hiss.
	Kyla's cunt spasms and her cries of pleasure join with Stella's cries of pain.
	Jerking themselves off now to the edge of orgasm the killers watch their young
blonde victim cook on the stove.
	Her endless screaming is counterpointed by the thunder and lightning outside as
the night storm explodes gloriously.
	When Stella's grossly distended, oil-dripping breasts are roasted dark brown Ward
lifts her off the burners.  Working the pulleys he lets down her skewer-studded legs.
	Thad and Matt uncuff the ankles and lift the young bitch, spreading her legs open,
bringing her oil-swollen twat up to the stove, making her sit on the left burner.
They hold their bucking victim there as she begins to scream hoarsely, her throat already
scraped raw, smoke coming up from her burning sexmeat.
	She coughs up ash. Smoke spirals up from her gaping mouth.
	"Cook that shit well, guys," Ward says. "Nothing tastes better than well roasted
cunt steak."
	Stella's struggle weakens and finally when the men see her mons charred
dark brown they release her.
	She kicks weakly away from the stove and hangs there whimpering, skewer
studded legs twitch-kicking, her burned out, eye-less head hanging down, bits of
blackened meat and blood rolling down her thighs.
	The killers go to the grill and pick up the X' brands.  Stepping up to their
ravaged prey they put the hot metal to her face, cheeks and forehead burned black,
Stella Dalwell, the last of the cheerleaders, nowX' marked for destruction.
	Ward unsheathes his knife.
	With a deft stroke he reaches out and slits her throat open then as the blood begins
spurting from her he holds the pan on which the skewers had been heated under her
neck.  Matt and Thad keep her from spinning away holding her by her shoulders as her
blood fills the hot pan, hissing as it splashes against the superhot metal.
	"Can't have meat without the gravy," Ward sneers. "Right?"
	"Fucking A."
	Kyla shudders as another mind-wasting orgasm rages through her.

__________________________________

	Rain patters against the windows.
	Stella's carcass is laid out on the dining room glass table.
	She lies on her back, headless, armless, legless.
	Ward uses the carving knife to slice her cooked tits off her.
	He places the twin nippled brown fleshed meat orbs side by side on the same
serving tray that held Connie Spell's liver.
	Slowly and carefully, Ward carves out Stella's shaved, well-roasted cunt.
	Blood pours from the mutilated cadaver to pool on the table.
	Ward pushes the blade against the chest bone and cuts all the way down to Stella's
crotch.  He pulls open the disemboweled female cadaver which has been cooked inside
by the swallowed charcoal.  He slices the liver out of her and puts it on another serving
tray. Then he reaches in under the ribs for the heart, patiently carving it out of its niche
and laying it next to the liver.
	He returns to the kitchen to fry slices of heart and liver in the cooking pan where
already pieces of Stella's buttocks and thighs have been cooking in her blood seasoned
with onions peppers and salt in olive oil.
	The rest of Stella is all over the kitchen floor and on top of the butcher-block
side-table.  Her eyeless head, cheeks and forehead X' branded, sits by the breadbox on
the counter, skewers still protruding from her ears, jagged neck-cut pulsing blood.
	Matt and Thad are fucking Kyla on the small breakfast table. She lies on her back
between the two men, her head dangling off one end of the table, Matt pounding into her
cunt and holding her legs up, pulled back, and Thad feeding her his cock.
	"Swallow me, pig," Thad tells her. "Swallow the prick that raped your baby."
	His meat clogs her gullet, makes wet sucking sounds in there. Drool and spit
run down into her dark eyes and scalp.
	Matt's strong hands grip the back of her thighs and he slams himself deep.
	The table creaks under her.
	The pregnant woman's mind, now under the full effect of the drug, is a complete
blank.
	She has become nothing but fuck-meat.
	No name and no soul.
	Tabula rasa.
	Not even human but animal.
	A fuckhole.
	The smell of cooked woman flesh fills the house.
	After a few minutes Ward shuts the stove burners off.
	The intense heat in the kitchen begins to fade.
	Wordlessly he joins his companions and they three-way fuck their pregnant
captive pulling her down to the floor.  She climbs on to Ward's cock up her asshole.
Thad kneels in front of her and pushes his cock up her cunt. Matt stands over her
and to one side to grab her head and deep-throat her.
	Stella's lifeless, eyeless, burned-out face looks on as the killers grunt in passionate
climax, Kyla's throaty cries of mindless pleasure erupting as violent orgasmic forces
shake her, animalistic sounds of sexual release replacing all need for words and memory.
	The men empty themselves in their victim.	
	She drains the cum from their balls.
	The souls of the victims shimmer around them - Kyla sees them, cicling in the
kitchen like trapped doves.
	
__________________________________

	The men are eating in the dining room.
	They are devouring Stella Dalwell's flesh and drinking Kyla's milk.
	The reality slowly swirls out of the dark mire in Kyla's mind.
	The drug is wearing off.
	She tastes the killers' sperm in her mouth and puts her hands over her face to
keep from making audible gagging sounds.
	Bits and pieces of what has been going on flash through her mind.

__________________________________

	It has stopped raining.
	The clock on the wall above her says 5:48.
	There is a faint glow above the trees beyond the window.
	She's still on the kitchen floor where they left her.
__________________________________

	She remembers - but not all of it - not Isabel.
	She can hear the men moving about.
	She tastes them in her mouth.
	They are packing up, getting ready to leave.
	They move past her and go outside to the pool. They are already dressed in black
t-shirts, jeans and combat boots.
	"Out of the way, bitch," Thad snarls kicking her aside as he passes.
	They are out there picking up after themselves, she thinks, after a moment.
	This is my chance - my last chance -
	She crawls into the living room and toward the door.
	Connie Spell's van.
	She gets up unsteadily, dizzily, and moves out into the night.
	The grass is wet under her bare feet - she can barely keep her balance.
	Scummy sperm spills from her asshole and cunt and runs down the inside of her
thighs.
	She crosses the gravel driveway and opens the van door.
	The keys dangle from the steering column.
	Thank you, Connie.
	Her heart is racing.
	She turns the key in the ignition.
	Nothing.
	She's looking at the dashboard panel.
	Its dark.
	She turns the key again.
	A muffled click.
	Then a tap at the window.
	"Going somewhere, cunt?"
	She sits up startled.
	Ward is outside, a cruel smile on his lips.
	He opens the van door and yanks her out to kneel on the gravel.
	Matt and Thad stand by the living room door. 
	The sky has begun to glow gunmetal gray.
	"So you were willing to run away and let your daughters die?
	She looks up at him in confusion.
	"Did you forget about our little bargain last night?"
	Then she remembers - Alina and Yvette in the utility shed.
	"Nnuuhhh! Nnuhhhhh!" she moans feebly. "Pleease don't h-h-hurt th-them -
pleease - le-let them live."
	"Get up," he tells her.
	Swinging her around he slams her against the van and holds her wrists behind her.
	Her fat belly presses against the cold dew-speckled side of the vehicle.
	Thad tosses him a pair of leather cuffs and he buckles them around her trapped
limbs.
	"Walk," he orders, pusing her toward the SUV down the road.
	"Pleease - please -"
	"Shut up."
	He pushes her into the back of the vehicle and secures her ankles to cuff-chain
strands on the floor of the truck forcing her to remain seated.  Then he takes a
plug-gag and shoves it into her mouth buckling it tight around her skull.  Finally he
places a black hood over her head and pushes his pregnant captive down making her lie
on her side, placing a collar around her neck and buckling the collar to a chain that
dangles from the seat armrest.
	"Maybe we'll kill your babies or maybe we won't," Ward tells her, his voice
calmly unemotional. "But you were ready to get in that van and leave them there to
save your own ass...That plus all the other shit you've done in the last few hours should
pretty much clear up any doubts about what a worthless piece of shit mother you really
are.  Nothing's worse than finally finding out the truth, pig...Anyway - Now you're
coming with us. To Black Island. If there's anything you're still not clear about I'm sure
your brief stay there will fully educate you."
	Then he slammed the door shut and left her there.
	It seemed like forever before she heard the killers return to the vehicle.
	By then she was crying fitfully, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
	The men said nothing.
	She heard the vehicle's engine start up and then they were moving.
	"Nice fucking hunt," Matt said after a while.
	"Yeah," Thad added. "Real nice, Ward. I'm sure Trevor's gonna give you a
medal on this one."
	"Maybe," Ward replied. "Frankly, I thought the best part was the food," he
joked.
	The men laughed.
	Kyla choked back a scream and continued to sob quietly, hooded, helpless
and defeated.


__________________________________
	

	Daylight had been pouring through the crack under the utility shed door for quite
a while, Yvette thought.
	She knew Alina was aware of it as well even though they could not speak to each
other.
	The two suffering youths had heard the killers milling about earlier and then
they'd heard an engine start up, doors slamming shut, and the crunch of gravel as the
vehicle trailed away.
	Then silence.
	It had been a long night.
	There had been screams from the house, chilling terror-screams that made them
sob with fear.
	Stella, Yvette realized.  Its not mom. Its Stella.
	After that no one had come for them and now it seemed the killers were gone.
	The girls' bodies ached from the roped suspension but the cords had yielded a bit
and now Yvette could stand without going up on her toes to keep from choking.
Their outstretched arms on the metal pipe ached and their bound legs were cramped and
their beaten raped bleeding bodies were sore.  Both girls were parched with thirst, and
they hovered on the edge of unconsciousness.
	It seemed like hours went by - long, empty hours - birds twittered in the trees
outside.
	Flies buzzed around the bloated floating corpses in the pool.  The girls could
hear them.  They could imagine the blood-glazed water shining in the morning sunlight -
the insects dipping down to feed -
	Then there were sounds, men's voices outside.
	"Jesus - Maybe the utility shed - look in the shed," someone said.
	And then the door opened.
	Yvette was facing the blinding sunlight and the shadow that stood there framed in
the doorway.
	She recognized him immediately. 
	"Daaa-daa-ddieee!" she screamed, her ring gagged mouth barely able to form
the word.
	Then she started to faint.
	"Whhmmm?" Alina gasped trying to look over her shoulder.
	The last thing Yvette remembered before passing out was her father moving
toward her.


__________________________________


PART TWO
Black Island


1. 
	Kyla kneels at the center of the gazebo.
	All around her: brightly colored tropical flowers.
	Nearby the ocean, a constant rhythmic presence.
	The twenty men, the gauntlet men, who have punished her with their clubs, have
all emptied themselves on her face and in her mouth.  Thick spumes of sperm splotch her
dark hair and glue her eyes shut.  Jism oozes from her lips and runs down her neck and
gleams on her big battered milk-filled paps and on her swollen, club-bruised belly.
	She reaches up to wipe the cum from her eyes and to look up at the black robed
severe-faced man who stands in front of her:
	Trevor.
	The gauntlet-men stand in a circle, leaning on the railing which loops around the
inside of the gazebo.
	"Stand up," Trevor tells her.
	She doesn't know if she can but she will do her best for him.
	A birth contraction pulses through her abdomen winding her.
	With a breathy grunt she cocks one bloody glass-slashed leg under her and then
the other, pushing herself slowly upward with one hand, the other hand on her thigh,
fully realizing the meaning of heavy with child'.
	The men enjoy watching her struggle to her feet.
	They stand there and watch.
	Trevor has a looped strand of barbed wire in his hand.
	"Hold er," he tells two of the gauntlet men who move in to take Kyla's arms.
	The Black X leader wraps the barb wire around her big belly, around her waist,
three tight loops.  Then he extends the wire down into her crotch and up behind her,
up between her asscheeks, and around the waist loops, creating a barbed-wire
containment barrier.
	Another contraction, a sharper one, comes and she moans with pain.
	"Your little girl's ready to come out," Trevor tells her.
	"But we're not gonna let her," he continues, pulling the wire taut and securing it
by tying off the ends. "Not for a while yet - Now, get on your knees again, where you
belong. I want to cum in your throat."
	His icy voice commands obedience.
	She does as she is told - opens her mouth wide for him, her eyes gooey with
sperm submissively awaiting him.
	He has stood by and watched the gauntlet-men use her. 
	Now its his turn.
	Undoing the knot on his black robe he steps forward.
	He is massive, ubelieavably so, sliding inward, filling her to choking and still only
half his meat in her.
	"Take me," he says softly.
	"Ghh," she responds aquiescing.
	He is bigger than any of the gauntlet-men - bigger than Matt or Thad or
Ward...much bigger...as if all those men were just mere preparation.
	I will die here, Kyla suddenly realizes as Trevor's cockhead pushes into her
trachea.  I will die on this island - for Him.
	His eyes are like black opals, his face unreadable, but she senses the pleasure in
him, in the way his hands take her by her cum-spattered hair to hold her firmly as 
he pushes himself gradually to the hilt, stopping her breath.
	"You should know," he says. "Not many women who come to my Island
experience this from me...Only the special ones...ahhh...and you...you're very special."
	A weird inhuman smile plays on his lips.
	He moves back and forth gently allowing her only the shortest of breaths before
stuffing her throat full, her jaw spread to the limit.
	"You survived the gauntlet for me. That was no easy task after what my soldiers
put you through in the last couple of days."
	Again he slides back just enough for her to breathe before pushing back inward.
	The gauntlet men look on, some of them already aroused again and jerking off.
	"And yet..mmmm - there is still a very serious ordeal ahead for you, my dear...
mmm - I don't know if you realize how serious."
	Now he pushed in to the hilt and held her there mercilessly, staring down at her.
	"I don't know if you have any idea about what a pregnant female body is capable
of withstanding."
	He turned to the men around him.
	"Feel free to empty yourselves on the bitch at will."
	Some of them stepped forward and shot off on her face and in her eyes and hair,
grunting savagely, while Trevor held her for them, her head impaled on his fuckpole.
	Her cheeks were flushed red and her sperm dripping eyes were bulging but he
wasn't letting her breathe.
	Her arms hung limply at her sides.
	When most of the gauntlet men had spent themselves on her a second time and
the air stank of their salty spunk and they had retreated again to the railing that circled
the inside of the gazebo Trevor said:
	"Put your hands on my balls."
	"Uggg!" she groaned, pleading for air.
	"Get me off," he warned. "- or you'll never breathe again."
	She raised her hands to his genitals as he spread his legs apart for her.
	The sacs hung down the size of golf-balls, smooth and devoid of hair.
	In fact, Trevor's crotch, now clearly exposed as his robe hung open, was clean
shaven and tattoed with a black X.
	"Gently, slut," he growled as she tugged on his sperm-glands. "Ahh - that's better
- slowly - squeeze them - yes - that's right - rake your finger nails on them - uuhhh - shit
- that's very nice - just keep doing that - concentrate on it."
	She was starting to pass out now, his shaft incredibly thicker and more rigid,
her throat and neck swelling with the pressure.
	"Concentrate, Kyla - tease the cum from me - that's right - just a little more -
uhh - don't pass out - uhhh, yeahh - c'mon - yes. Yes.  Here it comes.  You're a
very fortunate girl.  Very special.  And this is for you - uhhhhh! - just for you - filthy -
fucking - bitcchhh -"
	One of his hands remained in her hair gripping tightly, the other moved down
under her chin.
	"Yeahh!" the men shouted encouragingly.
	"Fill er up, Trevor!"
	"Empty it in er!"
	"Show er who's boss!"
	The expression on his face, his sinister smile, hardly changed as his hips thrust
forward and she felt a hot creamy gush explode in the back of her throat.  She tried to
swallow but her tongue was crushed against the underside of her mouth.  Nothing 
moved inside her as she began to choke audibly, her eyes flooding with tears.  Then
the heat moved up inside her sinuses and up into her nostrils.
	"Shitt!" the gauntlet- men cheered.
	"Drown the cunt!"
	"Goddamn, Trevor! Goddamn!"
	His cum spewed from her nostrils and spurt out around her lips and still he held
her.  The baby inside her kicked desperately against the walls of her belly.
	"There's more," Trevor said calmly.
	He slammed in deeper, her face in his crotch, her nose squeezed up against the
tatooed X. And she felt his balls clench in her hands.
	"Squeeze it all out of me, cunt," he told her. "C'mon - all of it." 
	Another thicker burst shot into her. She gagged and breathed in cum and
choked but did not try to escape him.  Instead she gently and lovingly and submissively
squeezed his big balls, milking him.  He continued to glare down at her, to shoot his cum
in her throat, his odd smile becoming a sneer of contempt and disgust and hatred.
	He slid out of her slowly, allowing her finally to gasp for oxygen, his cockhead
squeezing out of her gullet with a clucking pop, her mouth suddenly overfilled and
spilling with the thickest load she'd ever taken.  Trevor was not a man.  He was an evil
stallion.  A satanic horse in the body of a man. 
	He reached down and pushed her hands off his balls.
	"Thank me, bitch."
	The gauntlet men milled about watching her.
	Her eyes were still on Him.
	Far away she heard the lulling rhythm of the ocean.
	"Th-thank - you - s-ir," she moaned softly,  Trevor's thick milk-shake ejaculate
distorting her words and spilling down her chin.
	The gauntlet-men grunted approvingly.
	"Swallow my cum," Trevor snarled.
	She obeyed instantly, closing her mouth to gulp down the salty gelatinous mass.
	"Fuckin' pig," said one of the gauntlet-men.
	"Scumbag bitch."
	"You're gonna get what's comin' to you."
	"Take the bitch apart, Trevor."
	"No mercy, Trevor."	
	"She's your meat now."
	"Use the whore up!"
	Trevor closed his robe and reknotted the cord.
	"Thank you, gentlemen," Trevor said, his eyes still on her doting face. "I will give
your advice serious consideration."
	The men laughed.
	Trevor signalled to the tall bald man who stood near the steps of the gazebo.
	Kyla recognized him. It was the man who had prodded her with the spear earlier
that day and urged her into the gauntlet.
	"Take her inside and clean her up. Get her ready for tonight," Trevor told his
leather-strapped servant.
	The man pulled the pregnant bitch up by her arm.
	The barbed wire dug around her abdomen, dug into her skin, and the small cuts
on her legs and feet stung as he led her out of the gazebo, now avoiding the broken glass
that had gashed her earlier, taking her over the grass until they were past it, and then
back on the concrete walkway and back to the house.
	Trevor and the men remained in the gazebo and when she turned to look at them
she saw another servant,  a bald leather-man like the one who was leading her away,
pulling three naked girls behind him, making his way to the gazebo from the roofed
hallway across the lawn.  He tugged on a chain to which the three females were linked
by metal shackles around their necks.  Their arms were raised up and cuffed to the neck-
collar by the wrists.
	The leather man who was leading Kyla away noticed that she had seen the girls
and he said just one word.  It hung in the air as he moved her toward the door that led
down into the underground cells.
	"Killmeat," he said.
	Kyla understood.
	Just as she entered the house she heard the men shouting. They had picked up
their clubs again.  She heard blows and shrill screams and then the leather-man slammed
the door shut and led her down the steps.
	Another contraction hit Kyla and she staggered and groaned.
	The leather-man pushed her on past the cellar door cruelly oblivious.
	And then some questions fought suddenly for awareness in Kyla's pain-fogged
mind as her sliced-up feet pressed into the cold concrete steps and she descended, led
downward by the brutal giant.
	Something Trevor had said to her.
	"Your little girl's ready to come out. But we're not going to let her."
	How had he known the baby inside her was female?
	Was it possible that the men who had taken her from her home had found out
somehow and told him?
	And when he said we', who did he mean?
	Would Thad, Matt and Ward return?
	Her thoughts were interrupted when she realized that instead of taking her to the
her cell, Trevor's servant was now leading her into a tiled room.  Showerheads poked
from the walls and at one end of the room there was a coiled hose leading to a valve in
the wall.
	"You're not gonna give me any fucking trouble, are you?" he asked.
	"No," she replied softly.
	"Good. That's what I like to hear."
	He lifted her arms up and cuffed her wrists to manacles that hung from pegs
in the tiled ceiling.
	The room was lit by panels of light on the walls.
	"Not that it would do you any good to give me trouble - just less of a hassle for
me, that's all."
	She watched the leather-man uncoil the hose and aim the small pressure-nozzle at
her as he turned the valve on the wall.
	A freezing jet of water splashed on her and she shrieked with surprise.
	Leather man smiled.
	He liked his work.
	The wet big-bellied bitch gleamed in the glow of the lights as he moved the hose
spray-stream up and down her squirming body. He laughed as he shot her face with the
stinging water.  Her arms tugged on the manacled wrists the cuffs clicking loudly, metal
against metal, reverberant in the tiled room.
	Kyla Rodriguez was a fine piece of pregnant flesh and it was his responsibility
to make sure she was properly washed and presented.
	It would take him a good two hours to soap her down, to ream every nook and
cranny of her, to wash all the cum from her orifices, and the bloody scabs from her skin
- he would also have to give her several hot-water enemas and a good scrubbing with a
wire brush - somewhere in there he was sure there would also be time to feed her a good
load of cum or two.
	Too bad this knocked-up cunt wasn't slated for another beating.
	He would have enjoyed that even more.  Though he had to admit the gauntlet
guys had done a nice job.  She was pretty badly bruised and cut up.
	Leather-man rarely got to beat up on a piece as nice as this one.
	But he wasn't worried about it.
	There would be plenty of fresh meat tonight and later in the week for him.
	He didn't mind if the best stuff went to Trevor and the elite groups.
	That was just in the order of things on Black Island.
	Leather-man didn't have a problem with it.
	Not in the least.

2.

	The orange-sky of dusk faded into violet.
	In Trevor's opulent dining room the banquet came to an end, the coffee and
brandy had been served and drunk by the guests and Trevor's leather-men had removed
all the china and the cutlery.  
	The amphetamines were passed around and then the small packets of cocaine. 
	Most of the men in the chandelier-lit room, Black X soldiers, wore nothing but
waist-bands with whips, knives or other implements of torture. Some wore nothing at all. 
	There was anticipation in the air and very little conversation. Snorting sounds filled
the room as the cocaine was quickly consumed.  Gradually, the cult members rose and
made their way down the hallway to the amphitheatre on the far side of the mansion.  
	Large floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows on the left looked out on the ocean, less
than thirty yards from the pounding surf on the beach. To the right the gazebo and
gardens were visible, now lit up by the glow of several rows of decorative lamp-posts.
	At the wall opposite the entrance there was a large stage, floors and walls painted
black, a black stage-curtain now drawn as the cult members came in and milled about
making small talk or discussing the events of the day.
	There were no chairs in the amphitheater but comfortable sofas lined all the walls.
	There were slitted drain-plates in the floor throughout the large space.  They made
the clean-up process after the violent orgies easier.  Blood, organs, entrails would be
flushed down into the drainage system which acted like a massive trash compactor
grinding to bits whatever was left of the killmeat and piping it to the shark tank a quarter
of a mile away.
	When most of the members had filed in, the lights, which had been up full
went down to half.
	Trevor, bare-footed and wearing his customary black robe, on this special night a
flowing silk garment with oriental letters on the left chest, made his appearance on stage
from the wings, wireless mike in hand.
	His voice was calm and serene but underscored with excitement, adding to the
electricity already present in the room.
	When he began to speak the room went still:
	"Gentlemen, I'll be brief tonight because none of us have come here to listen to
speeches. We've got some exciting events for you this evening and we'll be under way
shortly. I just need to make these announcements because I want to share with you the
progress of our little organization and to outline its mission.
	"When I started Black X, back in 1989, there were ten of us.  Now the Black X
has nearly six thousand members, not just here in the U.S. but also in Europe, Eastern
Europe, Asia and South America.  This Black Island property I call home was our first
investment.  At present we have ten such locations throughout the world. Privacy and
anonymity is one of our cornerstones so you'll understand why I can't tell you where
the other Black X locations are, or show you any pretty pictures. Your access to them is
strictly on a need-to-know basis but suffice it to say that each location carries on the
same yearly rituals and membership training as this facility.  Each has used Black Island
as its model for construction, with isolation, inaccesibility, luxury, comfort and state-of-
the-art torture, slaughter and disposal facilities as central guidelines.  
	"This year Black X recruited six hundred new members. In fact, this year alone,
we've admitted to our ranks several CEO's, five police commissioners, three prison
wardens, two congressmen, a mayor, a province governor and several lawyers from
foreign countries, as well as a handful of diplomats and bankers. Quite a distinguished
group, don't you think? That is not to imply that the blue collar guys aren't being
properly represented here.  The bulk of our inductees are hand-picked by myself and the
selection comittee from the working class ranks of several countries.  At present, our
outreach program into the Third World has encountered difficulties with religious
practice, moral inhibitions, social codes etcetera. But even there we are making headway,
particularly in misogynistic Arab cultures.
	"I'm proud to announce that as of our latest tabulations, fifteen thousand eight
hundred and seventy three females have been erased from the face of the earth
by the Black X."
	A victorious cheer spontaneously rose up from the cult members.
	Trevor smiled briefly and continued.
	"At the present rate of disposal we will hit a figure of fifty thousand plus
by 2005. We are killing cunt at an unprecedented rate and continuing to expand our
efforts throughout every community on the globe."
	Around the room the men shouted approvingly, cheered, whistled, raised
outstretched palms in the slap me five' gesture with each other. Trevor waited
for them to quiet down before he continued.
	"The Black X Cult, T.G.Wendell Properties on the stock exchange as you all
know, is making a historical impact on civilization.  We are returning the ownership of
the human world to the male species.  In a future not too distant it is our hope to see
women reduced to their original role of house slaves and pleasure fodder.  No more
feminist proclamations for equality.  No more attacks on our masculine instincts and
desires.  
	"It is our most steadfast belief that if women are relegated to these roles, the roles
nature intended for them, the world we live in will once again be manageable and stable
as it was in prehistoric communities.  Our inbred and instinctive need for violence will
not need wars for its outlet.  Instead it will find its most perfect manifestation in the
slaughter of female meat, provided just for that purpose.  Why should men kill each other
when they can butcher a young woman, release their sexual frustrations and rid
themselves of all their anti-social aggresive impulses?  Capitalist enterpreneurs take note.
Where best to sell product, invest capital and exploit profit than in a stable environment?
	"When we've achieved political controls it is our intention to place women
in concentration camps where they will be accesible for re-assignment, either
as personal slaves, breeders and such or as kill-meat. Entertainment events will be
organized on a grand scale using those chosen to die.  In the initial stages entertainment
venues will be a bountiful flow of income for the cult.  Whatever format is in existence
then will be used thoroughly as a means to disseminate the cult's philosophy and
methods.  Again, enterpreneurs should take note of all the possibilities.  The attendance
of events at arenas and the marketing and distribution with advertising potential of these
events is the future for us.
	"But, though its nice to dream it is often more important to stay grounded."
	His voice modulated slightly and the cult members hung on every word. 
	"Our humble event tonight is not of the magnitude of the mega-buck
blockbusters I visualize in our future.  But for those who are here tonight - by special
invitation I might add - it is a very special, and for some of you, costly, adventure. In the
future we will have facilities that will allow for thousands of spectators.  Tonight there are
only ninety members present.  
	"Remember that each of you is a seed for our vision.
	"I've come to the end. Enjoy yourselves tonight. Take your fill.
	"In this place and at this time woman belongs to us.  Tonight we are cunt-killers,
proud and solitary soldiers of the Black X cause.  
	"Though now we conduct ourselves as a guerilla army, lurking, stalking, striking
in the shadows, there will come a time when we will walk in the light victorious, and
females will be made to bow down and worship their male rulers.  In that future world a
woman's beauty will be her ticket to savage destruction instead of to fame and money
and she will be able to expect nothing less than a life of shame, humiliation and shattering
pain.
	"Let the blood we spill tonight feed us and prepare us for that future."
	Again the men cheered. Then, applause and whistling broke out.
	Trevor paused briefly to accept the accolades and then disappeared back into
the stage wings.
	The lights faded down to a glow and silence followed.
	Leather-men now rolled in  three carts on which black metal grills full of
smouldering coals had been mounted.  Steel shafts and X' brands were dipped in the
coals. Two carts with wooden crates bearing coils of rope, handcuffs, swords, knives,
spears, axes, pitchforks and other implements of restraint, torture and destruction were
also rolled in.  The weapons in these crates were the only permissible weapons. Firearms
were prohibited on premises except onstage during performance.
	Then the killmeat, shackled and nude,was led in by the leather-men some of the
young females crying, some of them resigned, all beautiful, child-bearing cunts from
sixteen to twenty five, mostly call-girls and hookers brought to Black Island misleadingly,
some girlfriends or acquaintances of high-ranking members, willing or unwilling, pre-
approved by the admission committee. Heavy metal collars around their necks, manacles
and leg irons chain-linked together kept the bitches in line, two rows of fifteen females
each row guided by one leather-man pulling on a strand of chain. There were thirty kill-
slaves in all, roughly one bitch for every three cult members.  As they were brought 
into the center of the room the metal collars were released from the chain-lead and 
the females scattered among the cult members, some carried off to the sofas in the outer
perimeter of the room, others lifted off their feet and passed around, rock-concert style,
over the heads of the killers, sustained on powerful arms, whining in terror, still others
sinking down to the floor in a thronging circle of killers to suck cock or get pissed on,
beaten, kicked, punched and mauled.  
	The Black X soldiers had to accept the three-bitches-to-one-killer ratio.  Disputes
over which kill-slave should go to which cult member were forbidden. Such disputes, all
members knew, would lead to expulsion from the cult - expulsion meaning one thing and
one thing only - a shot to the back of the head or a quick trip to the shark tank.  The cult
members had learned to enjoy the free-for-all quality of these annual events and they'd
discovered that though some soldiers, usually the tougher and stronger ones, got more
than their fair share of slutkill, amazingly, no one ever left unsatisfied.
	Another contingent of kill-meat was now led in. Fifteen pre-teen girls, also naked 
and shackled, the youngest of which appeared to be no more than six or seven
years old, and behind them, four young boys, two blonde, one redhead and one
brown haired, none older than the age of eight.  They too were set free from the
shackles and released to the slaughter-hungry males.
	There was a low rumbling mechanical sound and pulley lines descended from the
ceiling.  Leather cuffs and manacles hung from them.  There were sixty lines,
not enough to accomodate a suspension of every victim.  The members would have
to also share the use of the suspension lines or find other ways of restraining their
kill-slaves. 
	Then there was another softer mechanical sound as the stage curtain peeled back.
	A slow throbbing beat, more of a physical vibration than a sound, emanated from
the sound system and strobing colored lights began to gyrate slowly in the ceiling
transforming the theater. Two giant video screens framed the stage. They now flickered
and came alive.
	The annual Black X slaughter-orgy had begun.

__________________________________


	On one screen a female, obviously a prostitute, crouched in a grassy field.  She
was handcuffed and legcuffed and three men stood over her pissing in her face.  She
looked up at the men and smiled ingratiatingly.  It was a bright sunny day and the
pisss-streams glistened and sparkled as they spattered her cheeks and hair.  She opened
her mouth wide, went up on her haunches, smiled, and two of the streams converged in
the O' formed by her wide painted lips.
	On the other screen, the Rodriguez house was visible in the background.
Tori Spell and Kathleen Samuels hung from an oak in late afternoon, their bodies
twisting and writhing as Thad, Matt and Ward flogged them.
	The images on the screens ran soundlessly.
	As the stage-curtain peeled back a rotating platform was visible.  The platform
was divided into room-sized compartments and the room now visible from the
audience's perspective consisted of a simple tableaux.  
	A young slender redhead shaved of all body hair, slicked with oil, wearing only a
pair of white high-heel pumps hung against the back wall by her wrists, arms apart,
manacled hands trapped. Her legs were ankle-bound far apart to a spreader bar. A strand
of wire was wrapped around her neck and a leather-man was pulling on it and watching
her as she rose up on her toes, her face grimacing as the wire bit into her throat and
choked her. The colored lights seem to pulsate on her flesh with varying intensity. The
leather-man tied off the wire line on a knob in the wall and unfurled a long single-tail lash
which had been coiled and clipped to his waist-band.  A clump of tiny barbed lead
weights dangled from the tip of the lash and made a scratching sound on the stage floor
as he rolled the whip back and raised it off the ground to strike.  The lash was easily
seven feet long and it whistled meanly through the air as the leather-man swung.  With
deadly precision the agressor landed the clump of barbed lead weights in the wire-
strangled bitch's shaved pussy-slit and she howled, her head rocking back and thumping
against the wall.  
	From the audience some of the men cheered.  Most were already busy with
their kill-meat, hoisting the young females up on the dangling pulley lines, or raping
them on the sofas or the floor.  Two burly cult members had hung one of the little
boys from his ankles and were using him for a punching bag.  Not far from them a pre-
pubescent girl hung by one foot while three men whipped her with riding crops.  The
tortured cries of the females and the children rose up above the low grinding rhythm
track coming from the sound system.  Colored lights swirled and throbbed over naked
human flesh, male and female, killers and kill-meat.
	On stage, the redhead's pussy was a bloody mess and now the leather-man
began on her firm melon-shaped breast-globes.  In a few minutes he'd slashed the
screaming bitch's nipples off her and left long slash-swipes down the front of her
body all the way down her belly to the top of her thighs.  He reached out and 
unwound the choke-wire line from the knob on the wall.  Pulling on it hard now
he flogged his captive faster, tearing her well-shaped oil-smooth thighs to shreds,
moving down her legs, blood spattering her white high-heels, blood drooling from
her lips as the wire slowly and exquisitely garroted her.  Her body spasmed rigidly
and her hands opened wide, her head twisting to one side at an extreme angle,
a dry snap followed by a squeal-scream and a death twitch as she pissed herself, her
head nearly sliced off by the choke-wire.  The colored lights swirled in her now frozen
glassy eyes. The leather-man coiled his whip and re-clipped it to his waist band.
	The revolving platform was already moving, another chamber coming into view.
__________________________________

	A sixteen year old blonde girl with thick wavy brown hair knotted up in a
scraggly disheveled bun hangs by cuffed wrists, legs off the ground.  
	A leather man crouches behind her holding her legs open by her cuffed ankles,
and a six year old brown-haired boy on a leash, his wrists tightly roped behind him,
reluctantly licks her sex-slit.  Behind the boy, holding the black cord which is hooked to a
leather dog-collar around the child's neck, a big-breasted dominatrix in six-inch heels
wearing a white corset with a black X stenciled on the front between her ample, semi-
revealed jugs beats the leashed six-year old with a barb-studded wooden dowel.  The
dominatrix has long jet-black hair bound in a pony-tail. The boy's buttocks and legs are
pock-marked bloody from the his mistress's punishment and he cries and wails.  He goes
up on his toes each time he's struck. Sometimes he goes on one leg, the other limb
kicking up off the floor in reaction to the strokes of the barbed dowel. The dom-bitch
wears heavy eye-makeup, black liner, mascara. Her lips are painted black and she sneers
viciously as she whips the boy with brutal enjoyment. The teen blonde looks down with
pity on the punished boy as he tongues her clit and babbles and drools on her thighs.
	The dom-bitch yanks the boy by the leash and pulls him down on his knees in
front of her to grab his hair and slam his face against her pussy, her head tilted back as
she takes her pleasure. Whimpering and looking up at her beseechingly the boy pushes
his tongue into her as he's been ordered to do. 
	Dom-bitch then hands the boy's leash to the leather-man who pulls the boy up on
his feet and takes him by one arm to lead him to a wooden bench. Leather-man sits and
lifts the whipped boy, turning him around so that he faces away and straddles leather-
man's erect meat-shaft.
	Dom-bitch steps up to the suspended female teen and begins to lick the shaved
pussy still wet from the boy's spit.  The teenager writhes with unashamed pleasure
as the dom-bitch works her, knowingly shoving fingers up the dangling girl's pussy
and asshole.  Dom-bitch backs up and swats the teen blonde's shaved pussy with the
barbed dowel several times bringing up blood and while the teenage girl is obviously in
pain she doesn't try to swing away.  Instead, she opens her legs even wider, lifting them
slightly,  for the punishing strokes of the stinging rod.  Dom-bitch steps up to her again
to lick at her bloodied snatch and suck on the ravaged clitoris.
	Leather-man as he watches them slowly rams his sizable prick up the bawling six
year old boy's rectum gripping the child by his hips. Dom-bitch leaves the cunt-whipped
teen and moves toward the boy who now rides up and down on leather-man's big cock. 
She watches leather-man sodomize the child, she cupping her corseted tits, the dowel still
in hand.  She licks the blood from the barbed dowel, her eyes glimmering.
	Dom-bitch whips the barbed dowel across the little boys's chest slashing his
nipples open, the child unable to fend off the blows his arms still wrist-cuffed behind him,
leather-man ass-fucking him for all he's worth, leather-man's big hands on the
child, one on his hip, the other around his neck now strangling him.
	"Don't kill him that way," Dom-bitch snarls. "Let's beat his little balls off him." 
	Leather-man smiles and just before the child passes out from lack of air he lifts
him up off his meat and lays him out on the bench on his back pulling the boy's legs
open and cocking them back, exposing his small pink genitals.
	Leather-man straddles the boy's crying face and he sits on it, smothering him as
he holds him open, gripping the small ankles tightly.
	The boy's small pale feet wriggle. 
	Dom-bitch smiles as she steps up to the bench, one hand stroking her pussy,
her black lips gleaming in the colored lights, her stilleto heels clacking on the wooden
stage.  She goes down on one knee to lick the boy's little cock and his balls and to
prod one long black-painted finger-nail in his puckered asshole. She likes the taste of him.
The boy's legs clench and kick but are held firmly apart by the leather-man who allows
the boy only seconds to grab a breath before suffocating him under his heavy balls.
Dom-bitch gives each of the boy's feet one sharp swat of the barbed dowel across the
white soles drawing droplets of blood that trickle down and roll over leather-man's
gripping fingers, the boy's shrill cries muffled under leather-man's buttocks.
	From above, the suspended blonde teenage girl watches as dom-bitch now
stands over the boy, barbed dowel raised high.  The teenage girl brings her thighs 
together as a tremulous shiver of anticipation ripples through her battered cunt.
	Dom-bitch swings the dowel, hard, down on the boy's genitals.	
	Slash. Slash. Slash. Slash. Quick, repetitive blows that make the boy scream
his little head off into the smiling leather-man's asshole.
	Little boy's balls rupture. They're gashed open. His little cock is sliced in half.
	Dom-bitch slams the barbed wooden dowel up the child's anus driving
it deep into his guts and moving in to sit on top of him, positioning her cunt so
that leather-man can fuck her.  Leather-man guides his cock into dom-bitch's slick
pussy hole as she leans back, her arms on the bench, her ass on the boy's belly, her
long legs coming up off the floor.  The boy squirms under the crushing weight of the
two copulating adults, gasping for air, his lungs crushed, his nose and mouth
sealed shut under leather-man's ass.
	The teenage girl watches the savage murderous coitus plainly aroused but helpless
to do anything about it.
	Leather-man grabs dom-bitch by the throat while he fucks her.
	There are cheers from the audience as the dom-bitch is slowly strangled, her
gaudy face turning beet red.  She makes no move to stop leather man and soon she's
limply hanging from his strong grip.  Strangling her with one hand, leather-man
unsheathes his long knife.  Dom-bitch's eyes bulge wildly.  She's obviously not expecting
this. The bald killer sinks his blade into her belly several times and then he slams it into
her chest and through her heart pulling it back out as blood spurts from her gashed
corset. He rips the corset down off her fat boobs to stab them, still fucking her as he
slices off her nipples.  He finally releases her and she collapses to the floor dying.  
	The little boy lies already dead under leather-man's weight on the bench.
	As death spasms spend themselves in the butchered dom-bitch who lies on the
floor in a swelling puddle of blood, leather-man gets to his feet to shouts of approval and
cheers from the cult members watching the action onstage.
	"Now  me," the suspended blonde teen implores. "Pleease, sir. Now me."
	He smiles up at her wickedly.
	"You know it, sweetheart," he replies.
	He takes the her dangling foot in one hand and gently slices a cut-line from her
heel to her toes.  He rubs her bleeding foot on his cock and on his balls.  He stabs her
legs repeatedly.  He cuts her other foot open and lifts it to his mouth to drink her blood. 
He turns her around and stabs her asscheeks as she screams frenetically.
	Sheathing his knife he takes a hold of the pulley line that keeps her suspended. 
He lowers the young weeping kill-slut to the floor so that she stands on her toes, blood
pouring from her slashed rump and legs and pooling about her feet.  He secures her
ankle cuffs to a spreader bar.  He presses a switch on a panel on the wall and a meat
hook on the end of a steel cable descends from above.  Wires are attached to the hook's
base leading back up to the ceiling.
	Stepping up to his sobbing captive, leather-man takes the rusty meat-hook in one
hand spreading her moist pussy-lips open with the other to insert it, sharply pointed end
first, roughly, in her vagina.
	The teenage girl stiffens and her head topples forward as the hook tears her
wide open and fresh blood streams down the inside of her thighs.  Relishing her distress
and wanting to intensify it leather-man snags the hook deep into her, piercing the
sharp point deep into her cervix, into the uterine wall until her bloodshot tear-rimmed
eyes come up to meet his.
	"Yesssss," she hisses softly.
	He steps back and touches a second switch on the wall-panel.
	A loud buzzing and crackling is followed by explosive electrical sparks shooting
from the hook and smoke coming up out of the teenage girl's bleeding cunt as she
tips her head back and screams.  Her legs jiggle and jitter as the lethal voltage plows
through her and leather-man watches licking his lips, the audience cult-members 
cheering wildly.
	He flips the power switch to off position and the tortured female slumps on the
suspension cables, her cunt still smouldering, blood trickling from her nipples.  Another
switch provokes two small wire-lines with metal hooks on the ends, smaller versions of
the cunt-meat-hook, to descend.  He steps up to his dazed kill-bitch and pierces these
smaller hooks up into her bleeding nipples from  underneath.  He goes back to the panel
to flip the main switch to on' position.  He turns to watch and stroke himself. Electrical
bursts flow into all three hooks embedded in the slaughter-bitch as the lines begin to tug
upward.  The helpless teenage girl screams, jerks and writhes as her small tits are slowly
stretched up toward the ceiling, off her chest by the nipples and her cunt mound begins
to tug outward from her crotch, sparks flying off her, her hair rising up off her scalp in
frizzy electrified strands, her teeth chattering.  She begins to rise off her bleeeding feet
but leather-man clips the spreader bar that holds her ankles to an eyelet bolted to the
floor.  She quivers spastically, wildly, energetically, her frizzed-out head rocking up and
down, eyes bulging, lips smouldering, nostrils flaring, as the voltage rips through her and
then the hooks gash her open, her tits peeled off her, her cunt-mound tearing right up to
the belly button, smoking entrails glopping out of her and on to the floor as wild
enthusiastic shouts rise from the cult audience.  Screams from other victims in the large
amphitheater rise up with the teenage girl's joining the triumphant whoops of the men
creating a loud cacophany of suffering and masculine pleasure, drowning out the
throbbing beat from the speakers.  
	The hooks with the teenage girl's tits and cunt dripping blood and bits of flesh and
muscle, still sending off crackling sparks rise up out of  sight and leather-man unclips the
spreader bar from the floor.  Another switch on the panel lowers a second suspension
line and he attaches the spreader bar to it, lifting her spread legs up behind her as her
guts continue to pour out.  He steps up behind her and to the accompaniment of frenzied
applause and whistles he enters the dying female youth from behind, pile-driving his
massive prick up her tight asshole, gripping her bleeding asscheeks to stuff himself to the
hilt, unsheathing his knife finally to begin stabbing her back - thud - thud - thud - thud -
the bitch grunting and jerking under his assault, her asshole tightening around  his shaft
as he begins to orgasm, emptying himself in her as her lungs collapse, blood spurting
from her nose, head tipping forward, the platform revolving to the next tableaux.
	
__________________________________
	
	On the first screen the prostitute that was crouching in the grass and being pissed
on now flies spreadeagled between two trees, meat-hooks through her wrists and ankles
pulled by taut ropes.  Three killers, a Black X team similar to Ward, Thad and Matt's, are
flogging her with lead-tipped bullwhips.  Her big tits and her cunt mound are festooned
with small darts.  She bleeds and screams silently and jumps frenziedly to the inaudible
impact of the whips.

__________________________________
	

	On the second screen Ward stands over Dora Raleigh slicing her neck open and
then making her take his cock in her mouth as he gut-stabs the redhead teen.  The
blonde killer is handsomely brawny and brutal, a model Black X soldier in the fulfillment
of  his duty, powerful naked body glistening with sweat, a fitting icon for Trevor's night
of destruction, flickering image of masculine triumph.

__________________________________


	On stage the killing goes on, the rotating platform's four chambers re-stocked
repeatedly with different players and situations.  Servile, willing slaughter-slaves
give their lives for the men.  Captive women and girls, boy and girl children, are raped,
sodomized, tortured, butchered and gored, their pure undisguised suffering fueling the
passion of the murderous men in the amphitheater.
	
__________________________________


	At around one a.m., when the orgy has escalated to a fever-pitch, victims hanging
tortured, mutilated, screaming and dying in the large room, dark ocean pounding against
the shore in the night beyond the plate glass windows, the masked killer makes his
entrance.  He wears a black executioner's hood that fits over his face leaving only the
lower half of his face, his thin cruel mouth, his stern jaw, exposed.  He is tall, strong dark-
skinned and dark-haired, possibly hispanic.  	
	Though he is naked and barefoot he wears a vest of spiked steel armor strapped to
his chest, a spiked dog-collar, spiked leather wrist-cuffs, steel-spiked medieval gloves and
spiked shoulder plates.  His penis is sheathed in a fourteen inch metal dildo from which
sharp hooked barbs protrude.  He carries a long heavy battle-sword and an axe like a
gladiator entering the arena.  
	But there are no rivals or enemies for him to fight here.  Instead, five lovely
preteen oriental girls hang upside down by wired toes from a metal ring.
The oldest of the girls is no more than ten years old - the youngest is perhaps four.
They are crying and screaming, hands wirebound up behind them to wire lines
around their waists.  They hang seven feet off the ground and below them a gorgeous
big-titted slaughter-bitch lies spread-legged, knees cocked, on a round wooden table,
her wrists roped to her ankles.  She lifts her head off the table to look up at the
masked killer as he approaches.  Her face is sluttish, bright red lipstick, dark blue
eye-shadow, black mascara and eyeliner.  She is panting with rut, a filthy cunt in heat,
trained for pain and suffering, trained to submit and yield, trained to  be nothing but
what she is about to become - killmeat - and she can't wait for it.
	The masked killer circles. He taps the sword-blade up against the faces of the little
girls. They squeal and beg in their oriental language.  The killer smiles.  His metal-
sheathed cock booms.  His large chest fills out as he breathes deeply, his eyes burning in
the hood slits.  He moves to the four year old oriental child, leans down to lick the
front of her smooth hairless body, to taste her.  Like the other girl children she has
long black silky hair which hangs down and teases his thighs and his balls as he licks
his way up to her little bare slit and her thighs to bite.  He bites the child hard, makes
her wail.  He likes to bite.  Likes to let the animal out. He moves from child to child
biting, licking, tasting.  He tears flesh out in bits, an ear-lobe here, a finger-tip there, a
nipple, working himself up, grunting and growling.
	The kill-slut on the table watches him, urges him on, her lips swollen, her mascara-
darkened eyes slitted.
	He steps back. His eyes are demonic, dark, undecipherable, snake-like.
	He lifts the heavy sabre and with a manly shout he begins to whip the blade across
the little girls' thighs. Sharp metal whangs against defenseless flesh.  Blood flies.
The killer moves around the circle sword-whipping the suspended female children's legs.
Blood rains down on the slaughter-bitch, on her belly and tits and face and she smiles
and closes her eyes and pushes her skull back against the hard table as the children
dangling above her squeal and screech, their cries joining the chaotic noise in the
amphitheater.
	The masked killer attacks the five children with sword and axe,  hacking
and slicing, mutilating and beheading.  He chops off hands and fingers and gashes
little cunts and bellies open, wacks the head right off the four year old and then the seven
year old girl next to her.  Both heads bounce down between the slaughter-bitch's legs
on the wooden table and roll to the floor.  He runs his sword through the bodies of
all the girls until a shower-spray of blood rains down on the slaughter-bitch.  Piss and shit
burst from the wounded murdered infants.  The masked killer moves in between the
slaughter-bitch's legs, positions the barbed cock to her cunt and grinds all fourteen inches
of his hook-barbed metal cock-weapon into the screaming blood-shit-and-piss-spattered
slut.
	 Fucking his screaming whore under the hot shower of blood and excretions from
the oriental girls above the killer hacks off her painted toes and then her feet and then
her hands as the ropes are cut loose from the sliced limb.  She orgasms intensely,
shuddering in agony, staring up at her killer with adoring eyes her arm and leg stumps
jetting blood all over him, his giant killing prick now buried in her womb. 
	He slaughter-fucks her pushing in and out slowly, tearing her apart inside. 
	He slams his axe down between her tits into her chest leaving it there and then he
slices off her big paps and cuts her open down the middle with his sword from the axe-
blade in her sternum all the way to her cunt.  Her arm and leg stumps waggle helplessly
as he now stabs his bloody sword into the wooden table by her head. He begins to pull
his hook-barbed prick ever so slowly out of her gashing her uterus and vagina out of her
in ribbon-strips as she screams at the top of her lungs, head thumping against the table.
	Above them, the last of the children gasps her death-breath, dangling body
trembling less and less, hanging finally inert.
	When he's pulled the barbed cock all the way out of the slaughter-whore, her
guts dangling on it, he pulls the sword from the table-top and puts the tip of the weapon
to her neck.
	The smile gone from his face which is now emotionless he gashes into her throat,
pushing the sword up into her head killing his bitch and watching her die.
	Wild shouts rise up all over the theater.
	The shouting now louder and more clamorous as the masked killer circles
the dead oriental girls and hacks them off their suspension with his battle sword, cutting
their legs off at the ankles so that their bodies topple down on the table on top of the
dead slaughter-whore and only their small pretty feet dangle from wire-bound toes.
	When he's finished there is a pile of female-carcass-meat on the circular table and
the last murdered baby slides off the top of the fleshpile after he cuts her down and she
slithers to the floor in a skid-path of blood and entrails as the platform begins to revolve
away, the large theater curtain sliding shut.



3.
	Now - finally - Kyla is brought in.
	She is clearly the focus of the night's grisly events.
	She still wears the barbed wire Trevor looped around her womb and in her cunt
that afternoon in the gazebo. That's all she wears as she struggles to walk across the
large room and toward the stage under the weight of a heavy wooden X' she is forced
to carry on her shoulder as Ward, Thad and Matt whip her with multi-tongued, lead-
tipped floggers.
	A row of steps now unfolds from the edge of the stage and the killers guide
their burdened pregnant slave toward it.
	Before she gets to the steps she stumbles under the weight of the cross and sinks
down on one knee.
	The three killers move in and whip her heartlessly until she rises again, sobbing
pitifully.
	A path has been cleared for her and the cult members throng about her as she
moves toward the stage.  They jeer at her, hurl insults, spit on her.  Some of them whip
and beat her with whatever torture implements they have in hand.
	She stumbles again and goes down, this time on both knees, under a hail of
blows, struggling to rise again and continue toward the steps.
	Trevor appears on stage and watches the pregnant beaten cow struggling to climb
the  steep steps toward him (just as earlier she climbed the gazebo steps) the large
wooden X' weighing her down.
	Ward, Thad and Matt move around her to whip her legs and feet.
	She collapses on her knees and almost tips over off the steps but somehow she
regains her balance and climbs on, welted, bleeding, contractions now racking her body
every few seconds.
	Gasping for air she looks up and sees the video screens.  
	On her right a whore, bound to a chair, is being clubbed to death by three killers
who stand over her taking turns to slam their weapons into her defenseless body.  On
her left, she recognizes her house in the dark background, the pool filled with bodies, and
Connie Spell dangling from a tree,  Ward and Matt fucking the dangling blonde and
gouging her with steel rods.  There is no sound from the screens, only the noise of the
men behind her and the screaming wails of the tortured females and children out in the
shadowy amphitheater.
	This must be hell, she thinks to herself - I must be dead and in hell.
	Out beyond the plate-glass windows she sees the foam of the breaking surf
on the beach.
	Thank God my two babies are not here - thank God - Alina - Yvette - She didn't
think the killers had taken them.  By now someone would have come to the house and
found them in the utility shed - barely alive but alive...but not poor Isabel - not her
youngest angel - she would be with the others in the pool, dead by her mother's own
hand.
	Kyla's lip quakes and she stifles a sob as she reaches the top of the stairs.
	Trevor is waiting for her; this time he has three short strands of barbed wire in
hand.
	"Welcome to the main event," he tells her and without warning he wraps the
first barbed wire strand around the top of her head tightly into her scalp.
	She gives out a muffled cry and looks at him with pleading eyes.
	"Who do you belong to, pig?" he says, his voice blunt.
	There is no hesitation in her response.
	"I belong to you, sir."
	"Tonight you belong to all of us. You are the property of the Black X cult."
	"Yes, sir," she mutters, eyes downcast.
	Killmeat, she thinks to herself remembering the leather-man's brutal word.
	Working quickly Trevor binds the other two strands of barbed wire as tightly as
possible around Kyla's milk-filled jugs, drawing the bruised and welted titmounds up into
two fat cones of whoremeat.
	The curtain slides open and Trevor beckons his pregnant-beaten-tit-bound-barbed-
wire-crowned slut to carry her X cross to the center of the stage.
	The revolving platform is now gone and the stage is bare except for two small
steel pillars about an inch apart which rise from the floor and two spike-shafts which rise
four feet from the floor on either side of the short pillars
	Ward, Thad and Matt, lead-tipped whips dangling from their hands, climb the steps
and Kyla takes the X' cross to the place indicated by Trevor where the two pillars rise
paralell, three feet high. There are holes through both pillars.  A thick metal bar two feet
long lies on the floor.  
	The men help Kyla position the large heavy cross between the two small pillars
and Ward lifts the metal bar which passes through a corresponding hole in the center of
the cross, pinning it to the pillars and acting as an axis on which the cross can be rotated.
	In a wooden crate left on the stage near the wall the men leave their whips. From
the same crate they take nine-inch steel nail-spikes and a large metal-headed mallet.
	The cross is swiveled into a horizontal position and Kyla is lifted up between her
three captors and laid on to it on her back.
	Ward holds her legs, Thad and Matt one arm each as Trevor takes the first spike
and the mallet.
	Trevor stands over Kyla's left arm.  He puts the nail-spike-tip to her wrist.
	She moans tremulously knowing what's coming.
	"Tell me again," he says raising the hammer over his head. "Who do you belong
to?"
	Her lips are trembling as she says the words, her eyes fixed on the hammer which
glistens in the colored lights above her, poised to strike.
	"I - I belong to the Black X cult."
	"Filth," Trevor whispers hoarsely and he slams the hammer down against the nail-
spike head and it rips through Kyla's trapped arm and into the wood of the cross.
	Her full-titted scream flies upward followed by the clamorous whoops, whistles,
and shouts from the audience.
	Trevor moves to the other side and positions the spike at her right wrist.
	"Again, slave -" he says softly, smiling down at her. "Tell us again - louder this
time, so we can all hear."
	Blood is spiraling from her shattered impaled limb and she's almost passing out
from the pain.
	"Yeah, bitch," Ward tells her. "Tell us all who the fuck you belong to."
	" - mmgg - ohh Godd - please - I c-can't take it - I jus-just can't -"
	"Sure you can," Trevor says.  "You will take this and lots more - now say the
words.  Take a breath.  That's right. Breathe deeply.  Get a hold of yourself.  That's a
good girl...now tell us - who - do - you - belong - to?"
	"I - belong - to - the - Black X cult!"
	"Cunttt..."
	The hammer flies down. She looks away as it clangs against the nail-spike and the
piercing pain tears through her arm and shoulder, an intolerable flash of heat.  Trevor has
to pound the hammer down again to sink the nail-spike home.
	Her mouth gapes wide as she shouts out her pain wildly.
	Trevor moves down to the base of the cross.
	"Now your legs..."he says looking down at her body.  "Pity because you have
such a lovely pair of legs..."
	Ward and Matt hold her left limb in place.  Thad holds her right limb at the thigh.
	She's quivering, quaking with the anticipation of the horrendous shock.  Another
breath-taking contraction tears through her and she makes a choked-off anguished noise,
drool spilling from her lips.
	Trevor places this third nail-spike two inches above her ankle, turning the leg
slightly so that it will pass through the bone.
	"You know the words," he tells her raising the hammer.
	She does know them. The words are nailing her to the cross as much as the steel
studs.  The words are destroying her and now she needs nothing more than that
complete destruction.  She must be made to pay for what she did to Isabel and what
she did afterwards - for the sick need in her - for being female.
	Still another birth contraction tears through her and it takes her a moment to get
her breath.
	Then, she shouts the words and the hammer falls - clang - clang - clang - three
times to drive the spike all the way through the screaming pregnant beauty.
	Trevor moving to her right leg now.
	This time the men don't even have to hold her.
	This time the words come unbidden when the nail-spike is presented.
	And after the pounding metal and Trevor's huskily whispered curse, the screams
come and the sobbing,and her head shaking from side to side.
	From the crate Matt brings an acetylene torch.
	Kyla is seized by more contractions.
	The blue flame pops to life and each spike wound is cauterized until there is only
a trickle of blood.
	Then, the cross is swiveled up vertically so that the pregnant slaughter-whore now
faces the audience in the theater below, framed by the four-foot high spike spears on
either side.  The dangling bodies of the tortured kill-meat, some females mutilated beyond
recognition, some headless, others still alive, lost in their own chaotic pain, dangle over
the crowd of cult members.  The air smells of blood and gutted bitchmeat.
	Ward, Thad and Matt leave the stage.
	Trevor moves up beside her.
	"We have a little surprise for you," the cult-leader whispers.
	Again - that we'.  Who does he mean by we'? Kyla wonders. Himself and the
other three killers? The cult members?
	She's about to find out.
	The hood-masked killer who had made his appearance on stage only minutes
earlier for the climactic child-cunt-killing scene before Kyla's entrance into the hall now
makes a second entrance, still in full spiked armor.  He's carrying a black canvas bag
which dangles from his hand.  
	He steps up to Kyla, waits for her to look down at him, and he reaches into the
bag dramatically, like a magician about to perform a stunning trick.
	By the scalps, one blonde-maned the other dark and wavy, with one hand, he pulls
out the pretty heads of Kyla's daughters, Alina and Yvette, sliced off at the neck, already
pale, fogged eyes staring sightlessly, mouths wide and blood-drooling.  The heads dangle
from his grip cheek-to-cheek.
	Kyla stares down as the hooded killer now drops the bag and holds one head up in
each hand by the hair so that they face her.
	She stares down incredulous until like a freight train the realization roars through
her - they're dead - both of my babies - dead - I killed Isabel for nothing.
	Her eyes roll back and she lets out a blood-curdling shriek.
	The audience roars.
	"The way things work," Trevor was saying, though she barely comprehends his
words. "They way we do it is, whenever a hunt is over we send in a clean-up team..."
	He stands next to the hooded killer who continues to hold the girls' heads up for
her.  His brown eyes are studying her and as she looks down into them she realizes there
is something extremely familiar about them.
	Trevor goes on, his voice calm but still audible over the racket from the audience.
	"The clean-up teams are usually made up of new members - and sometimes new
members surprise us with the depth of their cruelty and murderous abilities - I must say
in this case I am very pleased with the abilities of this particular new member who was
on the clean-up team at your home."
	The hooded killer now hands Trevor the heads of Kyla's daughters.
	"Too bad," Trevor comments looking into the faces of the dead decapitated
victims, holding them up in front of him. "They looked like nice kills - too bad I wasn't
there to get a taste."
	Now the hooded man peels off his mask.
	"Well, Trevor," he says. "We do have the videos for you."
	Kyla's shock deepens and her breath stops.
	Mask in hand, a cruel smile on his handsome face, the man who stands before her
in spiked chest- and shoulder- plates and steel collar is her own husband, Frank.
	"Nooooooo!" she wails thumping helplessly against the cross.
	The cult members look on in silence enjoying the scene.  Trevor has clued them all
in on the night's events.
	"I'm afraid so, Kyla dear," Frank says. "I told you I was working on the Wendell
account, didn't I?"
	"T.G.Wendell Properties on the stock exchange," Trevor interjects. "That's us.
The Black X cult.  And your husband is one of the CEO's who joined this year.  In fact,
it was his idea that we send our men in to begin with. It just so happened that we
conveniently have a police chief cult member working in your district.  Frank realized
the possibilities right away. Kyla Rodriguez, her three daughters, five cheerleaders of
Cordero Valley High and Connie Spell and her two small children will all have died in an
unfortunate but everyday event:  a huge car accident on the freeway. Fuel truck. Lots of
burned body parts and no questions I'm afraid."
	The pregnant slaughter-cunt stares down at her tormentors with mindless horror.
	"That's right," Frank adds. "And I'll make about two million on the insurance I
have on you and the girls." He turns to Trevor. "That and the house will become
Black Island property.  Not bad for a couple of day's work."
	Blood drips from Kyla's beaten barbed-wire bound boobs and down her forehead
into the corners of her wide staring eyes.
	"Not bad at all," Trevor confirms.  Alina and Yvette's heads still dangle from his
hands. Blood drips from them and on to the black stage floor. "The cheerleader squad
wasn't part of our original plan, of course. And Connie Spell and her kids - well - what
can I say? Can't always foresee these things. But I'm sure nobody around here's
complaining.   I'm sure my team had a good time with all of them."
	"Hey!" a voice calls out from the audience. "Are you guys planning to kill that
pregnant cow or are you gonna talk about it all night?"
	The cult members roar with laughter.
	Trevor smiles.
	"The troops are restless, Frank," he says moving to the first of the two spikes on
either side of the X cross. He impales Alina's head on one steel shaft then moves around
Kyla.  "You'd better get on with it," he tells Kyla's husband who continues to look up
at his captive wife with a leering gloating expression on his dark face.
	Trevor slams Yvette's blonde head down into the second spike and he turns to
leave the stage.
	A hush falls over the audience, except for the moans of pain of the victims
dangling on the suspension lines.
	A spotlight now floods down on Frank and Kyla from above.
	Frank looks up at his pregnant wife nailed to the black X' cross, flanked by the
heads of his two dead daughters, and he licks his lips.
	"I'm gonna fuck you, Kyla. You and the baby."
	The tone in his voice is neutral and yet full of loathing.
	"I'm gonna fuck you the way I've always wanted to fuck you - You stinking
pig...I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked."
	For the first time in her life Kyla Rodriguez sees the real man she married
seventeen years earlier.
	She's crying softly as he moves toward her.
	Blood from the barbed-wire crown Trevor placed on her rolls down her cheeks
with her tears.


	The first thing Frank does is unwind the barbed wire from around her big belly.
	Contractions are coming every few seconds now.
	He gets a heavy wooden paddle from the crate near the backstage wall.
	He begins to spank Kyla's fat, pendulous, barbed-wire snagged boobs with it,
hard, until in the brightness of the white overhead spotlight they are flushed dark red,
bruised and spilling milk.  He hits them harder and harder, Milk flies. Her nipples cry
blood.
	"Stinking cunt," he growls and slams her wire-looped tits brutally.  The meaty
thuds of the paddle echo in the large room. The audience shouts approvingly.
	The welts and bruises from the gauntlet beating and from the killers' whips are
replaced and overlayed by dark purple smears on Kyla's milk-filled paps.
	She screams in agony held against the cross by her spiked limbs as he begins
to paddle her belly.
	"Yeahh!" she hears the men out in the audience shout.
	"Yeahh! Beat the fucking fetus outta her!"
	"Kill the fuckin' cunt!"
	"Ohh Godd, Frank!" she wails. "Frank! Please! Please!"
	"Shut up, cunt. Take what's comin'. Take what I fuckin' give ya."
	Whumpp! 
	The paddle falls, hard, repetitive, unstoppable.
	Whumpp! Whumpp! Whumpp!
	"I'm gonna slam that shit out of you, you stupid cow!"
	He tosses the paddle on the floor and moves in to punch her with his spiked
metal gloved hands.  Its not long before her belly and tits are drilled with barbholes,
bleeding, bruised, torn.  Each fist blow slams her against the cross.
	The contractions are only seconds apart now and she's dilating under her
husband's attack.
	Frank chest-slams his wife and the tips of the armor-plate's metal spikes gouge
into her stretched belly flesh.
	"Uhh!" she grunts. "Aghh! Uwwhh!"
	"Come on, pig!" he shouts at her. "Come on. Shit that little baby girl out!"
	In her haze of pain she realizes suddenly how Trevor knew the sex of her baby.
She realizes who the we' is that Trevor has been referring to - Trevor and Frank -
the cult leader and her husband - How was it possible?!
	Her baby! Her baby! It's being pounded and crushed inside her.
	"UUHHwww-hhhh!" she gasps as the fetus moves down into the birthing canal.
	"Yeahh!" Frank shouts stepping back to gleefully punch away. "Come on! Come
on!"
	She feels the head of the baby now pushing out her vagina.
	"That's it!" Frank growls. "That's it. Give er to me!"
	A thick gush of blood spills out around the dark babyskull in Kyla's cunt.
	The killer punches into his crucified wife with all his might.
	Then as the baby begins to push out Frank tilts the cross into horizontal position.
	The world spins around in Kyla's eyes, the stark white light above her seems to be
beckoning her upward.
	Frank waits until his baby is halfway out and then taking it firmly in his
spike-gloved hands he shoves it all the way back into his screaming wife.
	The audience goes wild.
	Frank stands there and watches the baby push out again.  More blood flooding out
of Kyla.
	Again, slowly, he pushes the baby back in.
	Kyla's in desperate breathless unending contracting agony.
	"I'm fuckin' you with her," Frank tells her. "Fuckin' you with the baby - How
do you like it, pig? Huh? How do you like it so far?"
	He stands waiting for the baby's head to reappear.
	"Alina and Yvette were nice," he tells Kyla. "Real fuckin' nice."
	His words devastate her.
	"They thought I'd come to save them."
	This time he waits for the fetus to come almost all the way out before shoving
it back into Kyla's protesting womb.  Blood shoots out of her.  Piss and a milky residue
from her intestines that the leather-man had earlier blasted clean in the preparation room.
	Kyla shrieks at the spotlight above her. Shrieks and shrieks.
	"Yeahh," Frank is saying.  "They thought I'd come to save them. Mmmm.
I took them outside and we - we hosed them down and - they started crying when
we strung them up on the tree.  They begged me not to. The betrayal in their eyes
was the best part."
	The baby's head reappears. He pushes it back in gently with one hand.
	"We - whipped them - for almost two hours - then - we all fucked them before I
started using the machete on them," he tells her.
	My daughters! Kyla screams inside her head. 
	Our daughters!
	"- After I fucked them - well - after we all fucked them - there were six of us -
mmm - Yvette sucked my cock real sweet - she was - mmm - all bloody -"
	Suddenly the baby is squeezing out and Kyla is screaming.
	This time Frank lets nature take its full course.
	"I always knew Yvette was daddy's little girl..."  
	The infant falls into his waiting hands.
	He rips the umbilical cord off and holds the baby girl up for the audience to see.
	The cult members shout wildly and the newborn lets out a piercing cry, wriggling
in its father's hands.
	Holding the baby by its legs Frank positions its crotch at the tip of his fourteen
inch barbed studded metal cock.
	He turns to look down into Kyla's face as she lies prone on the tilted X cross.
	"This one's gonna be daddy's little girl too - Say goodbye to babypie," he growls.
	With a forceful yank her impales the wailing infant on the steel phallus breaking
into her effortlessly, ripping into the tiny cunt and right into her little gutsac and right
through the still screaming throat and mouth. Grabbing it by the head he slams it the
rest of the way until the tip of the barbed penis exits throught the baby's face, blood
jetting from its head and pierce-crushed belly.
	Now, with the baby on his shaft he moves into position between Kyla's
nailed-apart legs and puts the head of the fourteen inch steel attachment, which
is smeared with blood and baby-brainmatter to Kyla's distended and blood spewing hole.
	He waits for a gush of fluid and the placental sac to slither out of her and then
he rams inward, pushing the impaled infant back into its mother headfirst. As the
tiny crushed head disappears into the womb he hears one final gaspy wail from it and
then Kyla's screams fill his ears.
	He closes his eyes and tips his head back enraptured, fucks her brutally with the
baby-coated shaft ripping infant and mother to shreds punching Kyla's beaten wire-
bound tits with his metal-spike-gloved hands, punching her face and breaking her nose,
gashing her cheeks open.
	I'm fuckin' both of them, he thinks to himself with savage sadistic glee.  Baby and
momma, both of them at the same time - slaughter-fucking both of them!
	The audience behind him is howling wildly.  The sounds of killing fill the room,
thudding clubs, whips and swords, the hiss of burning meat, the hot dizzying
smell of whoreblood.
	Frank is the focus-point of the orgiastic brutality, destroyer of his own family,
masterful embodiment of all that the Black X stands for, now pounding into his
horribly tortured wife, using her for all she can give.
	Trevor looks on from the wings and after nearly fifteen minutes of the chaotic
intensity he strides out on stage, a sewing needle and a coil of nylon thread in hand.	
	"Leave the dildo in her," he tells Frank as he approaches. "We're gonna sew
er shut."
	"Yeahh," Frank shouts approvingly, nodding his head, unstrapping the spiked
cock from around his waist and sliding his penis out of the leather sheath.
	Trevor steps in as Frank backs up and between them they hold Kyla's blood-
drooling cunt closed as Trevor threads the needle and begins to sew the slaughter-bitch's
twat-lips together.  Kyla screams each time the needle pierces, enters and exits.
	"Sew her fuckin' mouth shut, too," Frank growls.
	"You know it," Trevor replies. "And her eyelids as well."
	"Fuck, yeahh."
	When the slaughter-bitch's cunt, mouth and eyes have been sewn shut with black
string the killers swivel her back into upright position.
	Trevor calls for two branding irons from the audience.
	Both husband and cult-leader now brand their killmeat for finality pushing
red-hot metal into her forehead and cheeks, into her beaten, wire-bound paps, into
her welt and bruise ridden belly and thighs.  They burn sixteen X's in Kyla's flesh as she
dances in beautiful muted whining pain against the wooden cross.
	Trevor steps to the back of the stage to the panel of switches on the wall.
	The audience cheers as a rope noose descends from the ceiling above
Kyla.
	Writhing, nailed on the cross, flanked by her dead children's heads, the slaughter-
cunt, silenced and blinded, cramps of agony ripping through her dildo-stuffed womb is
a portrait of sadistic triumph - of rigorous and merciless male justice.
	Frank slips the rope over her head and around her neck giving Trevor a thumbs-
up sign. Trevor flips the switch in the opposite direction and the noose tugs upward,
Kyla's head tilting to one side, nostrils flaring, her face stretching as she fights the nylon
thread that keeps her lips and eyes sealed, she choking noisily, cheeks flushed.
	Trevor flips the switch off when Kyla's neck has stretched to the limit, when
a quarter of an inch higher will snap her spine and finish her, when every breath for
her is a fiery ordeal.
	The cult leader then returns with an axe in his hand, the same axe Frank used
earlier on the oriental girl-children and the young kill-slut on the circular table.  The
blade is blood spattered.
	Frank looks on stroking himself as Trevor now slices Kyla off the X cross
slamming the axe into her arms below the nail-spiked wrists, hacking both limbs
clean through.
	"Let me do her legs," Frank grunts savagely.
	Trevor hands him the axe.
	The slaughter-bitch waggles her blood-spurting arm-stumps around, hands and
wrists left nailed on the black wood.
	Trevor moves back to the switch panel and as Frank slams the axe into Kyla's
legs half-way between knee-cap and nailed ankles, the cult-leader lowers Kyla by her
neck so that's she's forced to stand on leg-stumps unsteadily, making weird gurgling
noises in her throat, head shaking from side to side.
	The killers remove the black X cross from the pivot-pillars with Kyla's hands and
feet still nailed to it and they prop it up against the back wall.
	They take metal-tongued whips from the crate and unfurl them as they move
to opposite sides of the stage.  The seven tin flogger-tails drag along the floor as the
two killers step into position, each man taking one of the impaled heads from the spikes,
Trevor with Alina's and Frank with Yvette's (daddy's girl) to thrust their erect cocks
through the neck holes and push them out through the purple lipped mouths, to fuck
the severed heads, one-handed, as they now raise the terrible whips to swing them across
the dangling mutilated slaughter-whore.
	"We're gonna rip you apart, cunt!" Trevor shouts.
	And the amphitheater is echoing with the wild frenzied shouts of the men and the
screams of the dying females and the swissshhh-thhwwackk! of the metal whips tearing
into Kyla's meaty backside as she dangles by her roped neck and turns and swings
around to offer them her wire-looped tits and flaccid torn apart belly and turns and
swings and jerks around again to give them her wide curving back and those big round
moons of female assmeat that Frank has always just wanted to cut to ribbons - just like
he does now - slashing with unchecked fury - fueled by kill-lust - both killers tearing
Kyla's plump meaty thighs to pieces, her calve-stumps, blood and flesh flying off her,
blood pooling under her mutilated legs on the floor, mutilated arms trying impossibly to
fend off the flailing whip-tongues which find her sewn-up face as well and cut the blood
out of her beaten cheeks and shoulders and chest.
	When Kyla is just bloody maw, her cinammon skin dangling in strips, both killers
step up to take turns fucking her up the ass, lifting her bloody legs, dropping the heads of
Alina and Yvette on the gore-spattered stage to now push their huge erections up to their
balls in their dying slaughter-slut.
	After an exquisite sodomizing session which leaves Kyla on the very edge of death
Trevor returns to the switch panel.
	The pillars where the X cross was mounted receed out of sight and a single
three-inch thick black metal shaft rises up from the stage floor.
	Frank hoists his half-dead wife on to the sharp-tipped shaft so that the steel pushes
up her raped asshole.  He holds her legs apart as the shaft continues to rise up into her.
	She trembles fitfully in his arms.
	The cult members in the theater now chant rhythmically:
	"Kill - Kill - Kill - Kill - Kill - Kill -"
	For Kyla reality stutters and shutters back and forth.  Brilliant piercing light
flashes in her sewn-up eyes.  Senseless words are shaped on her tongue and silenced
in her sewn-up lips.  She feels the thick shaft enter her and realizes not only that it
is impossibly big but that it is hot - hot searing metal rising into her, opening her up for a
final merciless fuck - pushing into her ravaged guts - she knows it will kill her - and she
knows it will kill her very slowly - she feels the rope noose tighten unforgivably around
her neck and lift her upward as well and her legs rise, spreading, trying to make room
for the penetrating shaft, her arm-stumps dangling and drooling blood and meat-bits.
	"Kill - Kill - Kill - Kill -"
	The chant fills her ears and her mind and images explode inside her - Isabel
dying and spewing blood on her thighs -  Frank holding up Alina's and Yvette's 
severed heads - Trevor's massive cock choking her as she kneels surrounded by the
gauntlet men in the gazebo - Time rocks back and forth - she's back at the house and the
killers have just arrived and the one in the kitchen is sucking milk from her breast - and
then the girls are dying out by the pool and then Stella Dalwell is hanging by her ankles
from the kitchen ceiling, her big tits roasting on the stove-plates - Flashing shards of glass
on  the walkway tear at Kyla's feet as she runs the gauntlet - she's running and running
now toward the dark ocean outside - Come on, mommie!' - Its Isabel out by
the breaking waves. And then Alina and Yvette crouching naked in the bubbling surf -
Come with us, mommie!  Come with us!' And she's breathless from running and
panting and sweating - but its not sweat its rich dark blood and the climbing pushing
pain rising up into her belly, tearing through her intestines, up into her stomach, up
and up, the heat melting everything inside her, blood and bile spewing up into her
nostrils - fire-heat and smoke - killfucking her -
	"Kill - Kill - Kill -"
	Trevor and Frank now chant along with the cult members as the impaling shaft
fills Kyla's roped throat, bulgingly, her head in a halo of smoke which smoulders
from her nostrils.  She is shuddering like an old jalopy revving in idle.  The shaft
continuing to rise, the stitches of nylon string in her mouth melting, her lips sliding
open and the sharp blood-smeared tip of the shaft now visible rising up out of her
her wire-crowned head which tips back.  The shaft still rising, almost two feet out of her
mouth, lips spread wide as her neck snaps loudly and a final death dance spends itself in
her, Frank and Trevor stepping up to shoot off on the slaughter-whore's butchered legs,
the cult members shouting, jeering, whistling, many of them jerking off, spurting cum
on their own victims, on the gut-littered floor	.
	Kyla, impaled on the thick black spear, finally dead - butchered for the climactic
pleasure of the cult - her baby mangled to pieces inside her - finally gives up her soul,
a beautiful fleeing female soul streaking like a lost star out into the night over Black
Island, fevered and desperate, torn from life. 
	She will be spitted over a coal fire, cooked, roasted and eaten - devoured by
the hungry killers, her remains tossed into the shark pool - the memory of her and 
all she was erased forever, though the videos taken at the house and on the climactic
night of destruction will play on for years as background to other orgies - a fitting
backdrop to countless dances of death - Kyla crucified - Kyla fucked with her own
baby - Kyla cut from the cross - Kyla slashed to pieces - Kyla impaled and butchered.
The killing of the cheerleaders and Isabel, of Alina and Yvette will also provide
entertainment for a new generation of killers spawned by the Black X cult and bent on
the complete mental and physical destruction of the female species.
	Kyla has run the gauntlet and come to the end.
	Once more Trevor's cunt-killing cult has triumphed.
	Soon dawn will rise up over the misty forests on Black Island and another day
will begin.

_________________________________




EPILOGUE

	Ward watched the yacht as it approached the pier. Instead of a name painted on
the bow there was only a black X, two simple intersecting strokes. Bright morning
sunlight sparkled on the tossing waves as the vessel glided over green-hued water. The
killer counted six young women on deck, laughing carefree, their long manes, blonde,
red and black tossing in the wind.
	As the yacht pulled up two crew members leaped out to secure Trevor's
luxury boat to the pier and hook the walkway to the side so that the women could
step off.  One of the uniformed men glanced up at Ward and winked.
	"Any problems?" Ward asked him.
	"None," the crewman replied. "You guys are in for a real treat."
	The women were young, most in their early twenties, two of them still in their
teens.  Trevor had hired them, as usual, off the Internet.  They wore short skimpy
dresses, colorful and cheap and sexy high-heel trampy shoes.
	A tall redhead, (one Ward automatically checked off as his), and obviously
the spokesperson for the group strode up to the killer.  She exuded confidence and
attitude.  She was used to getting her way.  Ward was going to enjoy putting an end to
that.
	Ward wore a tight black t-shirt that revealed his formidable biceps, jeans and
sandals.  The handsome blonde killer's appearance and demeanor revealed nothing
that the visitors would find suspicious.
	"Are you Trevor?" the redhead asked.  The others gathered around their eyes
ogling him curiously and smiling seductively.
	"No," Ward said smiling back pleasantly. "Mr. Trevor is inside waiting for you.'
	He gestured at the chateau behind him.
	The girls followed his gesture.
	"Nice house," one of them, a busty blonde with pouting lips, commented.
	"Guess this guy Trevor's rich," one of the younger girls added.
	"Well,"Ward replied. "He must be if he can afford your services."
	The redhead's smile broadened and a sultry look came into her eyes.
	Oh yeah, Ward thought to himself. You're gonna bleed for me, cunt.
	"Ladies," he said. "If you'll follow me."
	He turned and walked toward the basement door at the side of the chateau, the
same door that only twenty four hours earlier Kyla had been led from to face the brutal
gauntlet.
	The women followed him.  Ward liked the sound of their high heels clattering on
the concrete and then echoing noisily in the stairwell as they descended into the
basement.
	He led them into the empty torture room.
	The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
	"I thought it would be nicer than this," the redhead said looking around.  There
was a hint of suspicion in her eyes now.
	"It'll get nicer in a second," Ward said.
	Matt and Thad entered behind the women and shut the door.  The lock made
a loud metallic sound as it bolted shut.
	The women swung around and some of them gave out short gasps of surprise.
	Matt and Thad were nude except for black leather straps around their waists,
knife-sheaths on one side, gun-holster on the other,  single-tail whip curled up next to the
knife - they were in kill-mode.  Both of them had polished mahogany-wood inch-thick
clubs in hand.
	"Shit," Matt commented, smiling and then licking his lips. "Trevor's being real
nice to us. I guess we did real good with those Rodriguez bitches."
	Ward was already peeling off his shirt and kicking off his sandals.
	The women were backing away from Thad and Matt.
	"Yeah," Thad was saying. "We are gonna make these cute little bunnies here last
a long fuckin' time."
	He tapped his club against his hand.
	The redhead turned and faced Ward.  She was scared but for the moment she
managed to appear indignant.
	"Hey," she said. "What the fuck's this? Trevor didn't tell us anything about
any kinky stuff. We don't do this kind of shit.  Let us out of here."
	Ward had his back to her.  He had opened the cabinet door and picked a weapon,
one he hadn't used in a long time - a pair of brass knuckles.  While the redhead bitch
was talking he had strapped them on and now he turned to face her.  He hated her nasal
valley-girl voice.
	"Fuck you, pig," he snarled and he swung his fist right up into her belly as hard
as he could
	When she doubled over he slammed his other fist into her face and she flew back
against the torture room wall, winded; then she slid to the floor on her knees, one shoe
gone, her nose bleeding, her hands rising up to her face, her hair disheveled.
	There was just a brief moment when the females looked on in horror, when they
knew they were not getting out of that room, when they knew they were not leaving
the Island.  Ward treasured such moments and he drank it in, their wide-eyed horror,
their gaping lips, their frozen stance, lovely half-naked victims about to pay for being
women, for being pretty, and for being whores.
	Then Thad and Matt began to swing their clubs and the meaty thuds and the
cries of womanpain filled the room.
	Ward yanked the redhead up by the lapels of her blouse.
	Before she could even think about resisting he had already ripped her clothes off
her and he was pounding into her with his brass-knuckled fists.
	The redhead was strong. She would be able to take a lot.
	He had erased the indignation from her face. Now all he saw there, besides the
cuts and scrapes he was putting on her, was fear - raw female fear.
	He liked it.
	He liked it very much.
	Soon he would see something there he would like even more.
	Submission.

______________________________________
WOODBURN