Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 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.
   Cedarville Slaughter
   Part One The Petersen House
   1.
   Missing Since 6/98', the poster outside the cinema multiplex in the mall
said.  It showed a pretty teenage girl smiling for her high-school yearbook
picture.  Kelli Ann Wallford', read the caption.  In the picture the girl
wore a white v-neck blouse; a small gold chain hung from her neck with a
tiny crucifix on it.  Last seen in the vicinity of Cedarville at this movie
theater.  If you have any information on her whereabouts contact _______'
   The man who called himself Dan had some information.  In fact, he knew
exactly where Kelli Ann was.
   But he was not about to contact anyone.
   Because Kelli Ann was in the woods five miles out of town, and he had
put her there.  He'd buried her butchered body naked in a muddy creek-bed
and burned all her clothes.  But he'd kept the little crucifix as a memento
of the delicious kill.
   A vague smile passed over his face as the memory of Kelli Ann's
suffering face in the claustrophobic torture room in the abandoned farm
house came to him, superimposed on the innocently cheerful picture on the
wall outside the theater.  He had really enjoyed her.  His knife had slowly
fucked her young body, carving and slicing her sweet flesh making her
scream and wail, spattering floor and walls with her warm blood.
   Kelli was his first victim in this town.
   And though he was now sure she wasn't going to be the last he knew that
very soon he would have to move on.
   Cedarville was perfect for Dan's handiwork, a small central Florida town
with a state college in the middle of it.  Summer session had started a
week before and the sweet young girls clad in tight shorts or tiny skirts
that fluttered around their tanned thighs were everywhere.
   Last year Kelli had been one of those girls.  A lovely vibrant
first-year oceanography student obsessed with staying in shape, jogging
every morning and riding her bike late at night in the dark streets around
the dorms.
   Now, as he waited in the dirt-streaked mustard-yellow Cherokee just
outside the movieplex the man who called himself Dan considered how much
he'd enjoyed stifling the life in Kelli Ann, stifling the beauty, the
intelligence, and the hopes of the smart young science student.  It had
been a detailed artistic endeavor that took him six long pleasure filled
days and seven brutal sadistic nights until finally he was able to look
right into Kelli's aquagreen eyes and watch all hope and all life ebb from
them.  It pleased him intensely to know those lovely eyes would never again
glance upon the ocean and hunger for its secrets, and he thought how lucky
he'd been to stumble upon this town.
   Actually, he had not completely stumbled upon it.  He had fantasized
about visiting Ted Bundy's old stomping grounds for some time and finally
found himself with enough money in his pocket to spend a couple of years on
the road.  So he'd come to Cedarville, site of a vicious co-ed killing that
had never really been pinned on Bundy, but which had all the trademarks of
the infamous girl-butcher.  In fact, several notorious rapists and
girl-killers had been drawn to this area and Dan knew it was dangerous for
him, and because of that, more of a thrill, to be here.
   Back in the late 60's, Tom Waverly, the man who now called himself Dan,
then a teenager, had read about Bundy, getting a fine-sized boner wondering
what it was like to enter a building full of sleeping half-naked girls and
slaughter them with a club, then fuck their smashed up
bodies...Sweet-smelling, freshly-bathed firm young bitches relaxed and
unsuspecting in the shadows, their slow even breathing in the darkness as
the killer steps close to watch them sleep...shoes, books, clothes
everywhere, panties and bras draped over chairs or on the carpeted floor,
an arm spilled over a pillow, graceful hand in repose, a long lovely bare
leg extending from under a sheet...until with a snarl he brings down that
hard, rough, dirty piece of wood, raises its heaviness high and brings it
down with pulverizing swiftness.  It would take a couple of blows, heavy
thumping, crunching blows to their pretty heads.  They might shudder and
open their eyes and whimper after the first but after the second or third
there would be only silence.  And then he could leisurely strip
naked...peel whatever clothes the victims might have been sleeping in off
them and spread their still warm nakedness open, the bed wet with blood and
piss as he mounts them, possesses them, slides deep into their dead
wombs...Bundy had killed eight women that night and no one heard or saw a
thing.  It wasn't until Bundy pulled the same stunt again at another
college where witnesses saw him leaving the scene that investigators
concluded he'd done both crimes.
   Dan the Knife Man had studied Bundy's activities and those of similar
criminals closely.  Unquestionably Bundy was a genius but he had made
mistakes.  Every serial killer makes mistakes.  And in the beginning Dan
had made mistakes of his own.  But he was learning.  It took time and
patience to become a consummate bitch-killer but Dan was determined he
would be the best and never be caught.
   He'd watched Kelli Ann for days before making his move.
   He learned all about her family and background, about the boyfriend she
was seeing in Cedarville that no one knew about, about her love for movies.
   Kelli Ann Wallford was someone's daughter and someone's sister and
someone's love.  She was not just an unknown entity to Dan the Knife Man.
   Early in his murdering career Dan had attacked targets randomly, without
knowing his victims or where they came from.  As time went on he discovered
that it was so much more pleasurable for him if he knew them, knew all
about them.  In that way when he extinguished their life he could derive
monstrous sadistic enjoyment from knowing he had hurt not just one
individual but a whole group of people, a whole community.  Because the
girls he was killing now were not just hookers or streetwhores or runaways.
He wanted the fucking cream of the crop.  He wanted little valecditorian
bitches that scored 3.8s in all their school subjects, that came from
well-to-do families and were involved in civic activities.  Smart little
do- gooders who dressed enticingly and in expensive clothes and made men's
heads turn but who also knew how to appear innocent and demure and landed
high- paying positions.  Dan was after the elite cunts before they became
what they wanted to be.  He was there to cut the wings off the little
butterflies before they flew.
   This evolution of his killing method had come after he'd massacred three
girls at the Warren College for Women five years earlier.  He discovered
that the excitement of the slaughter did not end after he'd finished with
the girls and dumped their remains in a lake.  Later, everytime he saw the
parents, family and friends of the slaughtered females crying on television
talk shows, everytime he read a story in a newspaper or magazine about the
killing, in which of course the details were left out, he found himself
salivating and getting hard, just like when he first tracked a target down
a street, just like when he first looked into their eyes and saw their
realization of his intentions there, their horror, their lovely unrepressed
and unashamed terror.
   That raw atavistic excitement now pulsed in him as he watched his new
target emerge from the movie theater in the mall.
   Kathie Daniels.  High school class of 1996.  Parents divorced in 1993.
Brunette, 5'8, big-titted, slender-waisted little cunt...she was laughing
with her friends, walking toward the parking lot, going past him and not
even giving him a second glance.  Why would she?  A long-haired guy in a
Cherokee maybe waiting for somebody.  He was completely invisible.  And a
year had passed since Kelli Ann.  Nobody even looked at the poster on the
wall anymore.  It had been put there months before and was already starting
to fade from exposure to the harsh Florida sun.
   Kathie was hanging with her buddies, Larissa and Donna.  They often went
to the movies and to the mall together.  Dan knew.  He'd watched them many
times, his cock hard, a nervous tingling in his stomach, a cool sweat of
anticipation on his forehead.  He'd been watching Kathie for weeks in fact,
ever since the little bitch had walked past him on a street near the
University campus. She had not noticed him then, either, or since.  She had
not seen the hungry killer- eyes taking in the big swell of boob-flesh
under her U.  of F.  t-shirt or her long bare slender legs and full shapely
ass in her white gym shorts.  And, though his main target was Kathie, the
big-titted sophomore, he wasn't going to mind turning all three girls into
missing posters, not at all.  The more the merrier, Dan thought, or should
he say: the bloodier?
   He started up the Cherokee and moved slowly toward the exit of the lot
to wait for the blue Mercedes convertible with the three girls.
   He knew that on weekends Kathie left her dorm and spent the weekends at
the Petersen house, Larissa's parents' house, on the lake outside of town.
He knew that Petersen and his wife travelled often and that this weekend
they were in L.A.  and would not return until Wednesday.  He knew the three
girls would probably be alone and unprotected and earlier that evening he'd
made real sure of that.  He'd gone to the Petersen house to have a real
good look around and confirm his plan of action, and to take care of
business.
   The house had no burglar alarm and was well isolated, surrounded by
woods on three sides and the lake in the back.  The nearest house was
nearly three city blocks away.  As he walked around the well-kept upscale
property, his hiking boots crunching the pine needles, the pants of his
denim jeans brushing the green ferns, the smell and sounds of the woods all
around him, the fading sunset coming through the leaves, Dan felt the
familiar rush, haunted by the delicious memories of other kills and other
woods.  He'd found the main electrical and phone lines, donned his thick
leather gloves, climbed up on a conveniently placed fence that ran along
the side of the property, and cut the power to the house, carefully taping
the wires so no one would see they'd been cut; then he severed the lines at
the phone jack outside.  Afterwards he'd driven to the mall, had a sandwich
at a crowded restaurant and gone to the movieplex to wait.  He needed
finally to make sure that the girls were alone and unaccompanied and that
they would stick to their customary plans.
   Now, rows of headlights shone in his rear-view mirror and finally the
blue convertible passed by and exited the mall parking lot.  The three
girls were laughing gleefully.
   Everything was exactly as it should be.
   The man who called himself Dan smiled and pulled out on to the highway.
   2.
   "That movie sucked big time," Larissa said.
   Kathie in the back seat laughed first.
   Her laugh was rich and sexy.
   Donna who sat in the front just made a face and looked back at Kathie.
   "Yeah," she said.  "Like who's gonna stick around THAT house and wait
for the guy with the ax to come back?"
   "Only somebody in a movie," Kathie said.
   "Right," Larissa replied.  "In a BAD movie..."
   The girls laughed.
   "Whose idea was it to see that piece of crap, anyway?" Kathie said.
   "I wonder," Larissa pretended to muse while Donna looked back at Kathie
and pointed with a shaking red-nailed index.
   "Oh no," Kathie replied defensively.  "I'm not taking the blame...you
guys agreed...we all sat there and agreed...Its not MY fault!"
   Donna turned and looked forward again.  It was impossible in the
darkness to tell that her eyes were an incredible shade of green.  They
gleamed darkly as she smiled.
   "I don't know..." she said wistfully.  "That guy was kinda...sexy."
   "EEwwww!" her two friends shot back in unison.
   They were on highway 143 about twelve minutes out of Cedarville when the
rain started.
   "Oh shit!" Donna wailed.
   Larissa pulled the car to the side of the road and pressed the switch
that closed the top.  The rain was coming down hard and by the time the
convertible's roof closed over them the girls were soaked and screaming and
laughing.  Like many tropical rainstorms this one had come quickly,
violently and unannounced.
   The girls did not see the yellow Cherokee pass them and continue up the
road.
   Two more vehicles passed them before they finally got on the blacktop
again.
   "This has not been a memorable night," Donna commented moving her hands
through her wet dark brown hair.  She had a page-cut, short but feminine
and she wore big silver-hoop earings.  "Correction," she continued.  "It
has been a memorable night...but for all the WRONG reasons."
   All three girls were pretty, though Kathie was indisputably the most
attractive and the most top'-heavy, something her two companions never let
her forget.
   "God," Larissa had joked once.  "You're going to have to register those
things as dangerous weapons..."
   Kathie had blushed and smiled.
   Larissa Petersen was a typical Florida blonde, long straight hair
halfway down her back, not as big-titted as her friend but not exactly
flat-chested, and was always wearing shorts and sandals.  She and her
family had lived in Cedarville since she was very small and she had no
memory of the time they had lived in Pennsylvania. Florida was her second
skin.
   Kathie Daniels was true brunette with a luscious mane of jet black hair
that hung over her forehead in wispy bangs, now soaked, and down over her
shoulders.
   She wore a striped top and a black mini-skirt that showed most of her
exquisite alabaster-toned thighs.  While Larissa and Donna always wore flat
shoes or beach sandals Kathie always wore clunky black high-heel clogs or,
like tonight, sexy pumps that made her lovely leg and calf muscles stand
out and made every man turn his head as she walked by.  She also had a
gothic tattoo around her right ankle and four small rings on her left
ear-lobe.
   "What time is it?" she asked.
   Larissa looked at the green digital numbers on the dashboard clock.
   "Ten thirty," Kathie's frien replied.
   "Its early," Donna said, her eyes on the wet road ahead.
   The wipers ticked-tocked softly as the Mercedes purred down the road
eating up the intermittent white lines, tires hissing on the rain-soaked
asphalt.
   "Yeah," Larissa added.  "Maybe we can catch something on cable to get
that movie out of our heads."
   "I got that interview tomorrow," Kathie reminded them.  "I'm gonna need
to get some sleep."
   "Oh yeah," Donna mocked.  "How could we forget.  Little miss
smarty-pants has an interview at Lowell, Rand and Strickland...the biggest
advertising agency in town."
   "Its only a summer job, Donna," Kathie said rolling her eyes.  "They'll
probably have me getting coffee and emptying the trash."
   "They'll probably make you head of the art department," Larissa said.
   "Naaaa," Kathie replied.
   The turn-off for the house came up in the headlights and Larissa swung
the Mercedes off 143 and on to the dirt road which was now puddled and
muddy.
   "When's your dad gonna pave this?" Donna asked cynically.
   Larissa made a face and maneuvered slowly up the dark, bumpy mile-and-
half stretch of driveway.
   It was 10:45 when the girls ran from the car and toward the dark house.
   They did not see the Cherokee come up the driveway and around the
Mercedes.
   The rain had died down to a drizzle.
   Larissa got turned the keys in the lock, opened the door and hit the
light switch.  Nothing happened.
   "Great."
   "Just what we needed to top off this wonderful night," Donna replied.
   Larissa went into the darkened house while Donna and Kathie waited in
the doorway.
   She tried all the lights.
   "Must be a power failure," she called from the kitchen.
   She reached for the phone and started to push buttons almost before she
realized there was no dial tone.
   "What do we do?" she called moving toward the hallway to the bedroom.
   "Lari!" Donna called out.
   There was an odd sense of alarm in her voice.
   Now what the fuck is wrong with her, Larissa thought.  Probably a bug or
a frog crawling around on the porch.
   "Keep your shirt on...I'll be right there," Larissa said as she picked
up the phone in the bedroom.
   It was dead too.
   "You better come now, Lari..." Donna's voice was quivery.
   Larissa had never heard her friend sound like that.
   As she returned to the front of the house she saw that there was light
streaming in through the windows and that her friends were silouhetted in
it.
   She realized it was headlights.
   "Yeah, Lari," a man's voice said.
   It was a dark cold voice that froze Larissa in her tracks.
   "Get the fuck out here, now."
   3.
   Dan ordered the three young women to kneel on the porch of the house and
he held the Winchester Defender pump-action shotgun on them as he stood in
front of the Cherokee.
   They faced him, blinded by the truck's high-beams as he lit up a
cigarette and studied his victims.
   All they could see was a tall long-haired shadow and the fat barrel of
the gun aimed at them.
   Donna had started to cry.
   "Shut up," the shadow ordered.
   She whimpered.
   "I said SHUT UP!" Dan snarled taking a couple of steps on the dirt
toward her.  His boots made a sucking noise on the wet ground.
   She bit her lip and stifled a sob.
   He had made them kneel with their hands behind their heads and he
studied them carefully, three young delicious girls, wet, wearing next to
nothing... and they were all his.  He especially pondered Kathie's big
tits, stiff nippled under the wet blouse.  He had special plans for those.
Very special plans.
   "Alright," he said.  "Listen up."
   His voice was low and mean and the girls were mesmerized by it.
   "All your miserable little lives you cunts have had your way."
   He took the cigarette from his lips and crushed it under his boot in the
mud.
   "As of right now consider that shit in the past."
   He continued to hold the gun on them as he paced from side to side
between the Cherokee's glaring headlights.
   "No more daddy's credit card, no more boyfriends breaking their ass to
take you on a date, no more sugar and spice and everything nice.  The world
as you've always known it has come to an end.
   "Tonight you have become my property.  Tonight you will find out what it
means to be female in MY world.  You are shit to me.  Nothing but meat to
be used for my pleasure...but just so's you know I mean what I say let me
give you a for instance."
   "You," he said indicating Larissa with the gun.
   "Get up...come down here...NOW!"
   "...o-ok...ok..." Larissa replied getting slowly to her feet.  The
rubber soles of her sandals scraped the wooden floor of the veranda as she
moved toward the steps and then down to the driveway.
   She stood at the bottom of the steps with her hands still on her blonde
head, the drizzling rain spattering her pretty face.
   "Strip," the man said.
   She looked at him as if he'd spoken in another language although she
knew what he'd said.  It just wasn't registering.
   "Did you hear what I just told you, college girl?"
   She nodded, her lower lip trembling slightly.
   "...uh-huh..." she said softly.
   "Well, then what the fuck are you waiting for?  DO IT!  Take your
goddamned clothes off for me, NOW!"
   "Please," Kathie whimpered from the porch.
   Instantly the man turned on her.
   "I don't remember you having permission to talk, slut.  When I say shut
up, I mean shut up.  Do you understand me?"
   Kathie nodded.
   The man took a step toward her.
"Say: Yes, sir.  I understand....Go on.  Say it."
The rain made a soft pattering sound on the carpet of pine-needles and
dead leaves.
   "Y-yes..." Kathie began.  She was trembling so bad she could barely keep
her balance and her knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the wooden
porch.
   "...sir...I...understand."
   The wind brushed through the pine trees and far away thunder boomed.
   The man turned back to Larissa.
   Her silky yellow mane was waving in the wind around her pretty face. 
She had an expression on her face like an all-American cheerleader after
the team has been creamed.
   "You still have your clothes on...?"
   He raised the gun and aimed it at her head.
   "N-no no no..." Larissa whimpered and began to unbutton her blouse.
   He watched her strip, watched her trembling hands tugging at the wet
clothes, watched her step out of her sandals and on to the wet mud.
   She pulled her shorts down and stepped out of them standing there in her
white bra and Fruit of the Loom cotton panties.
   "...all of it, college girl." he said as she hesitated.
   She began to cry as she reached back and undid her bra, pulling the
straps off her shoulders and letting the garment fall off her as she bent
down to pull her panties down her legs sobbing softly.
   She cringed before the agressor, slightly hunched, quivering, looking at
the ground.  The two girls on the porch looked down too humiliated and
terrified by the shaming of their friend.  Kathie tried to think but
couldn't.  Nothing she'd ever experienced had even remotely prepared her
for this moment.  Donna too was paralyzed with disbelief.  This just could
not be happening.  This was a nightmare.
   Dan stepped closer to Larissa and touched the barrel of the shotgun to
her thigh.  She jerked to the feeling of the cold metal as he traced the
smooth tanned flesh upward to the beginning of her flat tummy.  The image
of the defeated cheerleader remained strong in Dan's mind.  Even if this
little cunt had never carried a pom-pom or twirled a baton she could be
cast in the part with no problem.
   His boot squished her expensive brassiere into the muddy dirt.
   "Get your hands behind your head, girl," he said softly.  "I never told
you to put them down..."
   Larissa did as she was told bringing her arms up slowly.  Standing there
naked, vulnerable, her shapely tanned body gleaming wet in the glow from
the truck's headlights, her clothes scattered around her, she was a
delicious and fetching target for the girl killer.
   The shotgun came up slowly past her rib-cage to the soft wet orb of her
breast.  In the glaring lights of his truck Dan could see the little
bitch's nipples were erect from the cold and the fear.
   He rubbed the barrel-hole of the .12 gauge Winchester across her nub and
smiled.
   "Yeahhh....fucking bitches...all your lives you've been put on a
pedestal... Such a pretty little girl.  Such a smart little girl.' That's
what they tell you all day long.  Are you daddy's little girl?  Smile for
daddy.  Lets see how pretty you are.' Buying you things.  Treating you like
queens....well, the party's over now..."
   He stepped back and aimed the gun at Larissa's left thigh.
   "I said I would give you a for instance...here it is, girls.  This is
what you get tonight."
   He pressed the trigger and the gun exploded loudly with a huge flash.
   At such close range the impact was devastating almost taking Larissa's
leg right off.  It lifted her up and slammed her naked body back almost ten
feet in a spatter of blood, flesh and muscle as she screamed and wailed
then fell rolling over twice to lie in a crumpled heap, bent in half and
squirming.
   On the porch Kathie and Donna screamed and started to get to their feet.
   Dan the Knife Man aimed the gun at them.
   "Stay put or DIE!"
   He strode slowly to the wounded youth and stood over her, stood on the
wet ground her muddied discarded underclothes under his booted feet.
   His cock pushed out the fabric of his jeans and throbbed.  His mouth was
dry.
   The naked victim looked up at him past strands of wet hair that
curtained her eyes.  Her mouth was wide open and she was trying to say
something but all that came out was agh - agh - aggh ...' The leg he had
shot was twisted at an impossible angle with a black and bloody impact
wound just above the shattered knee from which blood jetted in rhythmic
bursts.  No more cheering the home team on, no more little victory dances,
Dan mused.  Central casting would have to find another candidate....With
his boot he kicked the little bitch over on her back.  Her pretty hair (her
father had called her angel-head' cause he said it looked like a halo when
the sun shone on it) fell away from her face and into the puddled rain. 
There was mud on her pale cheek and she was still going agh - agh - aghh -'
looking up at him wide-eyed when he pump-cocked and aimed the gun down at
the other thigh, much higher, almost where it joined her abdomen, next to
the golden and neatly trimmed triangle of pussy-hair.
   "No!" Kathie screamed.  "Pleeeease!"
   Gently but firmly Dan squeezed the trigger.
   The gun exploded again, bucking against the killer's grip as the girls
on the porch shrieked.
   Donna pissed herself and crumpled down, hunched against the wooden
floor, her forehead pressed into the wet slats.
   This time Larissa's body convulsed mightily with the flash-shock of the
powerful blast which nailed her into the ground.  Her eyes rolled upward
and her head arched, neck stretching, arms clutching the mud, her skull
pushing into the puddled ground, a gob of frothy vomit spilling from her
lips.  The explosive burst seared her belly and pussy and tore her thigh
apart spattering Dan and the front of the Cherokee with blood.  Larissa's
blood and flesh hissed as it spattered the hot headlights and thrummed on
the metal grill of the truck.
   Now the killer moved quickly going into the vehicle and retrieving a
coil of barbed wire, tossing it up on the veranda.  While Kathie and Donna
watched sobbing softly, frozen in horror he took a large black duffel bag
out of the truck and several loops of thick rope and placed them beside the
barbed wire.  Then he re- loaded the gun.
   On the ground, Larissa lay in a huge puddle of rain and mud and puke and
blood making an odd whining, gurgling sound, her hands clutching the ground
on either side, her eyes looking up sightlessly at the darkness above the
trees.
   Her legs flared away from her abdomen at opposing and unacceptable
angles and the dynamic blast of Dan's gun had left a black smear of blood
and flesh that bloomed around her...bits of her had even speckled the front
wall of the house and Kathie's arm and cheek and the front door which stood
half-open with the keys still in it, just as Larissa had left it.
   Dan had to hurry now.  He knew the girl on the ground would die very
soon and he wanted to enjoy her fully before she did.
   He picked up the strands of rope and moved toward the two btiches on the
porch.
   4.
   The drizzle of rain had intensified and the drops gleamed with silvery
briefness in the headlights of the Cherokee.  It was as if the truck was
staring at them, Kathie thought incongrously as she hung by her roped
wrists.  She and Donna were both naked now and suspended by rope from an
overhead beam on the veranda.  The long-haired man had made them both take
off their clothes as he kept the gun trained on them.  He'd had to kick
Donna a few times to get her up on her feet.  The terrified girl whined in
response to the sharp thrust of Dan's boot and bawled as he yanked her head
up by one of her hoop earings almost tearing her ear off.  Then, listlessly
they'd both obeyed their attacker.  They'd seen what he'd done to Larissa.
There was no reason he would hesitate to do the same or worse to either one
of them.
   In point of fact, Dan was not done with Larissa and was in a hurry to
get the two sweet bunnies on the porch into bondage so he could proceed.
   Once he'd tied each woman's wrists tightly, hands clasped together and
hoisted the arms high as he pulled the rope and knotted it to a porch
pillar he bent down to bind their ankles and thighs, pulling their shoes
off so that they stood on arched feet, their painted toes on the white wet
wooden planks of the veranda.  Then he pressed big black rubber ball gags
into their mouths strapping them tight around their heads.
   Now he would get to work on Larissa before she bled to death or passed
out from shock.
   He didn't want the Cherokee's battery to give out so he started up the
truck.
   Quickly he stripped naked, tossed his t-shirt and jeans, boots and socks
into the back seat of the vehicle and tied the leather hunting belt around
his waist.  To the right of the metal buckle was his sheathed hunting
knife.
   He liked the way it felt to be naked with the belt strapped around him
like that .  It made him feel like a warrior, a hunter.
   He went to the black duffel bag and took two steel spikes, a wooden
mallet, and the strand of barbed wire, then he walked over to where Larissa
lay mortally wounded.
   Kathie thought the truck not only stared meanly at the scene but growled
now that its engine revved on idle, like a hungry demon.
   "Watch me, girls," Dan intoned in an eerie playful voice.
   "Watch Dan the Knife Man at work and play..."
   First he drove the steel stakes, which looked like tent pinions, deep
into the ground on either side of his victim, pounding them in with the
wooden mallet, then he pulled Larissa's arms apart and bound the wrists
with barbed wire, one to each stake.  She moaned as the metal barbs tore
into her tender skin and struggled weakly, indefensibly.
   Dan now knelt on the ground and grabbed Larissa's broken legs by her
ankles to drag her toward him, away from her bound arms, stretched, and he
spread her open.  She cried out inchoately.
   His cock cleaved the air fully erect now, like a snake's head, red and
hard as he positioned the wounded youth the way he wanted her.
   She struggled weakly and managed only to raise her head off the ground
and look up at him with soulful pleading eyes as the raindrops spattered
her face.
   Then her head fell back and he took a choke-hold of her neck as he
placed his cock at her pussyslit and drove forward into her moist cooze.
   It was hideous, cruel, monstrous rape and Kathie could not help but
look, drawn to the vision of the brutal killer heartlessly fucking her
spreadeagled, nearly dead friend on the muddy driveway.
   She glanced sideways to see that Donna too was staring, unable to look
away, blood trickling from the earlobe Dan had savagely yanked on, a puddle
of piss around her feet on the floor.
   Dan's body, shining under the falling rain was a perfect masculine body.
It was evident to the girls that he worked out and stayed in shape and
under any other circumstances would have been real nice to look at.  Now he
was a monster and they stared, fascinated the way a moth is fascinated by
the light of the candle flame, buzzing around in circles until it is drawn
in and burned.
   His movements as he fucked the dying woman were graceful and powerful,
like a panther's.  He knelt between her blown-away thighs and pumped his
cock with slow deliberate thrusts of his powerful hips in and out of her
blonde pussy.  And even if it was a dry fuck, it felt good to slam his cock
home, all the way in to his fat hanging ball-sacs, making Larissa grunt and
bite her lip as his knees dug into the mud and his hands seized and held
her tits with bruising force.
   "You're gonna die, pig," he growled.  "Yeah..ahh...yeah...you're gonna
die fucking me."
   "...pleeease...ohh...God...pleease...." Larissa pleaded but he only
rammed into her harder staring down at her like a savage animal, his bare
feet planted firmly in the wet ground.
   "Ghh!GGgg!" the gagged, suspended women on the veranda intoned in unison
as now Dan drew his long serrated hunting knife from the sheath.
   "Yeah, little piggy," he was growling as he drew small surface cuts all
over the blonde girl's chest and breasts fucking her with slow even strokes
as he leaned over her, supporting himself on one arm, his hand flat on the
ground next to her head.
   He moved beautifully, almost like a dancer, his hips swiveling and
thrusting with sensual rhythm as he cut the little bitch, cut her expertly,
cut her as only Dan the Knife Man could cut, with killing love, the way
he'd cut his first kill as she lay on the pickup truck in that cold alley,
a whore whose name he never even knew....or Anna Wilkins, or the three
college girls, Nancy, Cindy, and Evelyn who now lay at the bottom of
Greelie's pond near Orchidea...or Kelli Ann who slept in her grave not far
from the Petersen house in the woods.
   He drew long cuts across Larissa's lovely belly right into her blonde
crotch and even down into her shot-blasted thighs.
   He cut her arms and shoulders and made her lick the blood off the
blade... then cut her her cheek and pushed the tip of the knife into her
eyebrow until blood welled up in her eye-socket.
   Still fucking her he sat back on his haunches seized her right nipple in
his muddied hand and sliced it clean off with one sharp movement.
   Now Larissa came to life screaming and pleading frenziedly for her life
and the girls on the porch shouted into their gags for help and begged the
killer for mercy and Dan only smiled and chuckled at the wonderful
cacophany of helpless female sounds all around him as he took the other
nipple, tugged it upwards, Larissa wide-eyed and shrieking as he cut it too
from her and tossed it aside.  Blood spurted from the college girl's
mutilated tits and her pussy tightened around Dan's big cock as she sobbed
desperately.
   It was time to finish her.
   The women on the porch watched him raise the knife above his head.
   "N-ogghhh!Nohh!N-gghhhh!" they screamed stamping their bound feet into
the wet floor of the veranda, twisting and tugging on their bound wrists.
   With a wet thud the serrated hunting knife plunged into Larissa's chest,
just below her neck and her body leaped against the binding wire, wrists
tearing and fraying.
   She made a choked groaning sound and blood spurted from her lips and
nostrils as Dan began to drag the knife blade downward, cutting her open,
slicing into her abdomen, tearing diaphragm and esophagal tissue, opening
her up as the rain began to fall furiously, pelting killer and victim with
thick droplets that washed the flowing blood into the mud.  With deep
concentration Dan pushed the knife deeper and fucked her harder as she
began to go into a final death spasm. A hiss of gas audibly escaped the
wound as he pierced the stomach and continued into the intestinal sac,
blood and shit pumping up out of her.
   Thunder boomed closer and lighning flashed in the sky over the house.
   "Die, pig..." he muttered softly.  "Die, die, die..."
   Donna choked and vomit oozed up around the tight ball-gag and spilled
down her neck and on to her tits as she sobbed and pressed her face into
her up-raised arm, eyes shut tightly.
   Kathie's eyes welled up with tears and she sobbed brokenly unable to
stop watching her friend's grisly murder, guts spilling up out of the
defenseless female, Dan taking a piece of intestine and tugging on it as
Larissa keened mindlessly.
   "YE-ahh!" Dan shouted as he pulled on Larissa's slimy guts and continued
to slice all the way down to her pussy slit.
   The killer took a handful of hot guts and organs and pressed them and
rubbed them against his muscular belly, his head arched back as he howled
at the stormy sky like a wolf.  Then placing his knife on the ground he
reached into the long slicing gash he'd made in his victim and pried her
apart with all his strength, grunting with the effort as her ribs cracked
open.  Then, getting to his feet, standing so that the female carcass lay
between his strong legs, he began to piss into the dying girl's innards.
   On the porch Kathie closed her eyes, hung her head and prayed silently.
   Gradually, Larissa's body stopped quivering and she looked up at her
killer as he emptied his bladder on her, his piss mixing with the hot
summer downpour and her red lifeblood, and she died, her eyes going glassy
as his piss stream reached her parted lips.  He loomed over her filling her
brain with its last sensory input: ...the image of his smiling pleasure as
he rubbed a messy handful of her insides against his cheek, his long blonde
hair washing down over his cruel face, and the salty taste of his pungent
hot piss in her blood-filled throat, a savage dry crack of lightning above
and then...nothing.
   And on the porch of the Petersen house, it seemed like forever before
Kathie opened her own eyes again.
   When she did Dan the Knife Man was standing in front of her in the glare
of the Cherokee's headlights, wet with rain and blood, knife returned to
its sheath, his blood-smeared cock cleaving the air like an eager javelin.
   The rain had died down to a drizzle again.
   "Your turn to please the Master, scumbag," he said softly.
   She felt her knees go weak and a soft cry escaped her gagged lips.
   On her thighs she felt the hot wet gush of her own urine as she fainted.
   5.
   Outside she could hear the sound of the Cherokee's idling engine.
   Then she opened her eyes.
   He had brought her into the Petersen house and tied her to their
king-size, four poster bed after peeling back the quilt.  He'd laid her
limp unresponsive body on the sheets, roped her tightly to the posts, and
then he'd gone into the bathroom to shower himself clean of Larissa's blood
and dry himself off, but Kathie had no memory of it, only disconnected
images, sounds...she was confused, her mind trying to shut down.
   He had placed a circle of candles all around her, on the night-tables
and the floor and he stood at the foot of the bed watching.
   She tried to move but her wrists were tied snugly above her and her
ankles wide apart one limb to each of the four corner posts.  The insides
of her thighs were still slightly moist from when she'd pissed herself
earlier and the faint smell of her own urine drifted in the air of the
room. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the dancing illumination of the
candles and Dan took in the soft ripples of her muscles under the flesh,
especially the strong thigh muscles above her knees, the pulse in her
slender neck, her big luscious paps, the youthful firmness of her body, its
solidity and warmth as it lay on the wrinkled sheets.  Besides the fading
odor of her terror-piss he could smell the woman smell of her like wet
earth and it made his heart pound.
   Kathie was spreadeagled and completely vulnerable to the Knife Man, just
like Larissa outside had been (she tried to erase that...the blood...the
storm...)
   She wondered if Donna was still alive out there and then she noticed she
herself was no longer gagged, although her lips and jaw still hurt from the
intrusion of the large rubber ball.
   "Talk to me, pig," he said flatly.  His voice was emotionless,
cold...his eyes fixed on her...he was stroking himself slowly, his strong
legs apart.
   There was something in him she could not explain...or dared not explain,
even to herself...a hunger, a vast and limitless...appetite.
   Now that he had cleaned himself she noticed how strikingly handsome this
cruel man was and terror flooded through her, terror and fascination and
helplessness, all at the same time.
   "Y-you....killed...her..." she said, her eyes filling up with tears.
   "Yeah," he said in that same flat neutral voice.  "...Nice, wasn't it?"
   Nice was probably the last word in the English language that she would
have ever chosen.
   "You - You've done this before...?" she said.  Her eyes could not turn
from his.
   "You bet, college girl.  Many times.  And I plan to go on doing it as
long as I can."
   "You enjoy it..."
   "Its more fun than anything else I've ever done or ever will do."
   "You're a sick fuck."
   He chuckled.
   "I'll agree with you there, college girl...I'm a very sick puppy."
   "Why?" she asked him.  He enjoyed her baffled and horrified expression.
   He came around the side of the bed, still stroking his big prick, to
stand over her and she could smell him now, a sharp male-animal scent.
   "Oh come on...a smart little slut like you should know the answer to
that one.  You've read about people like me.  Bundy, Gacey, Dahmer...  we
kill because we are dysfunctional, amoral, antisocial.  We have no empathy,
no emotional connection....  but mostly because...because we DIG it....
   "There's nothing like killing a young woman, Kathie..."
   The sound of her name in the candle-lit room was like a vicious slap.
   "Oh yes, Kathie," he said, responding to her surprise.  "I know you and
your little friends out there.  I know you all well because I do my
homework, sweet cakes..."
   He reached down and took her by her hair, not harshly, but forcefully
enough to keep her face from turning away as he leaned over her.  She could
feel his hot breath on her cheek now.  He looked down on her and could see,
now that her hair was swept back in his grip, the silvery gleam of the four
little rings in her delicate ear-lobe.
   "Sweet, sweet Kathie Marie Daniels, State College art student on a full
scholarship...Talented little fuck, aren't you?  Much more talented than
Larissa Petersen or Donna Mayers...Just my humble opinion but I really
think you're just wasting your time with those two losers, honey bunch."
   "They're my friends!" Kathie protested surprised at the depth and
hostility of her reaction.
   "Oh, yess...passion!" he hissed smiling.
   "I love that in a girl...Passion is so hard to come by these days,
sweetie pie.
   "But in any case we don't have to worry about you being pals with poor
little Larissa anymore...No sir.  She's gone to a better place."
   "What about Donna?" she asked.
   "Well what a good friend you are, toots...what a noble, loving person,
worrying about your colleague that way..."
   "Did you kill Donna, you bastard?"
   He laughed.
   "Kiss me and I'll tell you," he taunted.  "How about it, college
girl...how about a little smooch for ole' Dan."
   "I'd rather die..." she spat fiercely.
   "Really?  So much passion could get a little girl in trouble,
dear...lots of trouble..."
   He took both of her big heavy tits in his hands then and began to
squeeze them harder and harder as he pinched the nipples.
   His hands were hard, calloused, like steel claws, like twin metal vises.
   Kathie closed her eyes tightly and screamed shrilly, her face tossing
from side to side.  It seemed like he was going to crush her big juicy
boobs.  He pulled on them, slapped them, punched them making her bounce on
the bed.
   Then suddenly he stopped and just stood there looking down on her and
stroking himself.
   "The answer is no, cunt...I haven't killed your friend...not yet...And
the reason I haven't killed her..."
   Again he leaned close.
   "Wanna know the reason?"
   She did not reply.
   He slapped her face then, his hand flying down with vicious unexpected
force, the blow turning her head into the pillow.
   "Answer me, pig," he snarled.
   "...y-yess..." she replied in a daze.  "Y-yes I - I want to -"
   Again his hand smacked across her face turning her head in the opposite
direction.
   "Yes, SIR -" he shouted at her.  "Say it, cunt: Yes, SIR.  Tell this
useless whore the reason!"
   "...y-yes s-sir...tell...tell this - uh - useless whore - the reason..."
   "The fucking REASON is that you are going to be given a chance to save
your worthless friend's life as well as your own."
   Kathie looked up at her tormentor with disbelief.
   "Yeah, you heard right, college girl.  If you can get me off I'll let
both you and your friend outside live."
   Kathie shook her head, her eyes again filling with tears.
   "No..." she said softly.  "No...You're lying.  You're just going to kill
us both no matter what I do."
   "That may be true...but you know what?  How will you know unless you
try, honey-bunch?...I might just be leveling with you here."
   Kathie tried to think but she was so confused.  She bit her lip and
began to sob softly.
   "Awww..." toyed her tormentor cynically.  "Poor little Kathie has to
make a BIG decision, boys and girls.  And poor poor little Kathie can't
even fuckin' THINK straight..."
   Again he took her by her hair.
   "Listen you stupid little twat.  If I wanted to kill you I would already
have done it.  Don't you know I want to enjoy you fully....  I want you to
give yourself to me.  That's what I really want.  That's what really turns
me on."
   "...but...but we already saw you...your truck...we can identify you to
police....you wouldn't let us go."
   "That truck is stolen, sweetie pie" he lied.  "And I don't have a police
record.  They don't have me on file."
   He watched Kathie consider the options, watched the young girl face the
terrible dilemma and think of all the angles.  And after a few brief
moments, he watched her come to the only conclusion he'd known all along
she could come to.
   "Now," he said softly.  "May I kiss you, Kathie."
   She looked up into his eyes.  He was stroking himself again, a little
faster now.
   "Y-yes...yes, sir..."
   It was a soft, long and tender kiss, for Dan the Knife Man secretly
loved his victims.  He loved them, respected them and admired them.  In
fact he felt deep reverence toward all women.  When he slaughtered them he
thought of it in the same way ancient men had thought when they hunted. 
They did not hate the wilderbeast, or the mastodon, or the wild boar.  They
revered it and kept likenesses of it in their caves and on their amulets
and body gear and weapons. For Dan, women were like wild feral beasts that
had to be slaughtered.  Only with their screaming pain and warm blood could
they truly feed their conquerors. A man could only be fulfilled if he
brought the woman to heel, made her his and finally destroyed her.  For
only by killing her could he be free of her spell, of her guiles, of her
control.
   So he kissed young Kathie Daniels passionately and needfully and she
sensed that in him, sensed the masculine power in him and responded as a
woman always will when free of all the expectations society has placed in
her mind, all the ideological, religious and moral restraints that humans
have deemed necessary to cage the primal Beast that lives in the human
soul. She submitted and submitted beautifully, letting him kiss her,
letting his strong hands explore her young trembling body, telling herself
that the chaotic feelings surging in her were not really happening, that
she was doing this only to save Donna and herself.  And when he got on to
the bed and knelt between her smooth outstretched legs and placed his cock
to her red slit he found her wet and fully lubricated, her pussy-lips
swollen, and he smiled, took her by her shoulders and slid deep into her.
   "Ohhh Goddd!" she groaned as he lay on top of her giving her his full
weight as he fucked her.
   The image of Larissa suffering and bleeding came unbidden and she began
to cry even as hot pleasure filled her womb.  He was big, so achingly big.
   He licked up her tears growling softly, tasting her tender young skin.
   Larissa was on Dan's mind too, the memory fueling his sadistic passion.
   "Yeahhh....that's it...that's nice, baby," he grunted as Kathie's pussy
squeezed his shaft and her thighs pressed into his asscheeks.
   "Uh!Uh!Uh!" she grunted, her hips heaving against his pounding thrusts.
   "Fuck me you little bitch!" he whispered in her ear and she growled
fiercely, eyebrows furrowed, and she counter-thrusted against him
energetically.
   Because of his proposal, the suggested exchange of his sexual pleasure
for her and her friend's life, the man who called himself Dan had
brilliantly, knowingly and succesfully released his young victim from every
social hang-up a woman is controlled by and she now let herself go with
shameless abandon.  He hadn't missed the little tattoo around her ankle and
the rings in her ear.  He knew there were masochistic feelings in Kathie he
could tap into, he'd known since he'd watched her walk past him on the
street weeks earlier...and he was doing exactly that right now.
   "Come on!" he urged.  "Get me off, bitch...you can do it...make me cum..
yeahhh...that's it....come on...come ON!....go for it..."
   She growled and shrieked and all her limbs pulled against the limits the
ropes allowed ankles and wrists chafing with the effort.
   "Pleeeease!" she screamed at him.  "Pleeeease, sir..." the word had come
unrequested and Dan sneered with the pleasure of victory.  "Cum inside
me...pleeease...empty yourself in me...."
   "Hurt me, if that's what you want...pleeease...sir....pleeease...do it!"
   Again and again she would tell herself later that what was happening
there happened because she wanted so badly to save Donna and herself from
the murderous wrath of this predator.  But deep down she could not
completely convince herself; she knew there was more to it than that...much
more.
   "Yeahhh!" Dan grunted as he thrust viciously into his victim with
determined gusto, with power-thrusts calculated to inflict pain, his big
cock pistoning in and out of her tight little cunthole as he rose up to
smack her tits and punch her ribs.  He would eventually fuck her in a much
more cruel way, on the dirty bed in the abandoned farmhouse, when he had
her exactly how he wanted her, broken and isolated...the way he'd planned
for weeks.  But for now he contented himself with the pleasure of this less
extreme rape.
   "You want pain, you little fuck...?"
   He slapped her big beautiful paps and they wobbled like jelly.
   "You want pain?  Huh?  You little scumbag?"
   He punched her and made her grunt and shut her eyes tightly and gasp for
air.
   "I'm gonna give you pain you piece of shit!"
   Now he punched her belly hard and leaned down to bite her nipples.
   She began to scream and he fucked her harder.
   "Yeahh!  Scream, shitbag!  Scream!"
   He tasted her blood as he bit tit-meat sinking his teeth deep.
   Then he reached for a fat blue candle on the night-table beside the bed.
   As he fucked her he held the burning candle over her her chest to spill
the hot wax on her bite-marked titties.  He drew circles of bue wax
droplets around her boobs as she shrieked.  Her hands, trapped above her
reached, fingers spread apart, arms snapping tautly against the binding
ropes at the wrists.
   Pushing his cock deep into her he touched the candle-flame to each of
her nipples holding it there to make her scream wildly and shrilly.
   "Take it in your mouth, cunt," he ordered, positing the base of the
candle in her lips, forcing her pretty mouth wide as he then pounded into
her belly and sides and slapped her juicy boobs watching the hot blue wax
spill on to her lips and cheeks and roll down her chin.
   Then he pulled out of her, took the candle from her mouth and climbed up
to sit on her bitten tits and grab her head and push his cock into her
blue-spattered face.
   "I'm gonna cum, slut!  DRINK it!  Swallow it!  Come on!  Take me in your
mouth, CUNT!  Come on you piece of SHIT!  COME ON!  Show me how much you
want you and your fuckin' friend out there to live!  SHOW ME!"
   Desperately, making small whimpering helpless cries, Kathie opened her
painted lips wide to take the swollen cock-head of the killer.  He leaned
forward to fill her all the way down to her throat so that she could not
breathe and he held her head hard almost tearing out her hair as he
ejaculated in her with deep grunts of pleasure and a wicked sneer that
spread across his face as hot jism spilled from her lips and jetted from
her nostrils.  After a few moments he got up off her, letting her breathe,
standing over her as he had stood over Larissa... (she tried to erase that
thought again), a last thick trail of sperm spilling from his prick and
into her hair, on the side of her pretty nose and mottled cheeks and
bite-covered, wax-painted tits.  The hot salty taste of him was too much
and she gasped for air, face flushed, trickles of spit and cum running down
her neck...
   "From your dead friend's pussy right into your useless throat, cunt..."
he told her, looking down at her, straddling her.
   She began to cry, racked with sobs as he stepped off the bed.
   "Y-you...you're still going to - to k-kill us...aren't you?" she asked
him between sobbing gasps, trying to control herself, as he stood beside
the bed.
   Already his cock was hard and erect again.
   "You got that right again, college girl...Guess you just didn't get me
off good enough."
   Then he turned his back on the sobbing youth and left the bedroom.
   6.
   The nude green-eyed girl on the porch was in a daze.
   Her pretty short-brown haired head hung forward and a stream of drool
ran from her ball-gagged mouth and on to her chest between her small bare
tits.
   She was trembling, cold and terrified, her arms stretched upward and
roped to the porch-beam already numb, like her arched ankle-bound feet.
   Inside the house she'd heard her friend's screams, although earlier she
could have sworn Kathie was begging the man to fuck her and hurt her...Was
that possible?  Then the screams were frenzied, extremely high-pitched
vocalizations of unmistakable anguish.  Donna could hear a pounding
movement, the creaking of mattress springs, the pleasure-grunts of the
killer and it was obvious that Kathie was being savagely raped inside the
dark Petersen house.
   Occasionally Donna raised her head and then she could not help but see
the bloody cadaver of Larissa lying in the muddy driveway, lovely dead face
still staring upward with frozen horror into the stormy night.  Then she
would look down again and her mind would totter on the edge of sanity.  She
would look at her toes, toe-nails painted blue (Deep Metal Blue, the little
vial said.) Blue on white, the white enamel surface of the wooden porch. 
Her ankles tied very tightly together, her calves occasionally cramping
painfully.  The image somehow made it all go away.  She hallucinated that
she was standing tip-toe on a cloud far above the earth, like an angel...or
a ballerina.
   Inside the house the thumping and the screams had ceased.
   Donna rode high on a cloud and way down below she could see herself as a
young girl.  It was Christmas and there were presents around the tree. 
Presents wrapped in very shiny, very red paper with blue ribbons.  She was
reaching down to open one of the pretty boxes.  A door slid open and cold
air and snow flew into the room.  She ripped the paper from the box, a
black wooden box, with a lacquer finish.  She opened the box, an elegant
jewelry box and inside it a ballerina in a white ballet dress began to
dance.  Music tinkled softly.  Then the ballerina began to bleed as she
twirled, tiny blood drops that speckled Donna's small child hands and the
snow on the ground around her small bare feet.  The little ballerina looked
up at Donna with a howling wide-eyed tormented face.  Then Donna's daddy
was standing in front of her and tilting her face up by her chin to look
down into her eyes.  She knew what he would say next: Wake up, Princess.
Wake up, pumpkin-pie.'
   But her father's face melted away as she looked up and instead it was
the killer and he said.
   "Its time to play, cunt."
   And he drove his fist full-strenght into her belly.
   The gut-punch brought Donna back immediately to the terrible reality of
the present as it winded her and she thought she would never breathe again.
She gasped for air and bit into the black ball in her mouth, eyes wide
(like the ballerina's).
   "Bitch," the killer grunted and hit gut-punched her again as hard as he
could. He looked at her suffering face enjoying the pain he saw there.  It
was so marvelously unjust for a huge powerful man such as he to punch a
helplessly bound young girl.  Terribly unjust and yet so rewarding. 
Because the female of the species had humiliated him, abused him,
emasculated him.  Until he'd learned how to strike back, how to take over
and show women they were inferior to his strength and his intelligence.
   "You must never NEVER strike a girl!" he had been told as a little boy.
   But that was all he dreamed about.  Striking them.  Punching them. 
Kicking them.  And eventually torturing them and cutting them and
mutilating their soft pretty bodies.
   Women were animals that had to be hunted down and destroyed.
   Not that he didn't love them...not at all.
   He loved them DEEPLY, loved their flesh and their organs, loved them
when they cried and bled for him.
   When he'd finished inside with Kathie, wiping his cock off on her hair
and stepping off the bed he was already hard again thinking about Donna
bound outside, nude, wet, filled with horror and fear as she waited.  He
imagined she'd heard Kathie's pleas and screams and knew that the young
college girl would be ready for him, just the way he needed her to be, and
he was not wrong.
   The little bitch was ready and waiting.
   He went to the end of the porch where the open duffel bag lay.
   He moved slowly and purposefully, like some big jungle animal, she
thought, and just watching him filled her with a deep primal horror.
   She watched him bend down, reach into the bag and take a coil of black
braided leather and what looked like a strap with buckles and O rings on
it.
   As he came toward her she whinnied and shook her head.
   The coil of leather unfurled and slid along the porch floorboards beside
him.  It was a single-tail whip.  And the other object was a collar which
he now wrapped around her long slender neck tightening the leather straps
and buckling the device so tight that she could barely breathe.  Her
nostrils flared and she gasped for air her lips trying to widen around the
huge black ball in her mouth.
   Then he stepped back away from her, standing with his strong legs
slightly apart, shaking the kinks from the long whip, making it slither
against the floor.
   "Your friend in there," he said motioning toward the open doorway of the
Petersen house with his head as he worked the whip.  "...she's put me in an
ugly mood...a REAL ugly mood..."
   She was still trying to regain her breath from his savage gut-punch when
the whip flew up off the floor and swung with a sharp crack across her
legs.
   "G-Ghhhhhwwwhh!" she screeched into the gag.
   The sharp hot sear of the whip left a long red welt across the middle of
her juicy thighs.
   Dan smiled.
   "...and nothing cures my ugly moods like a good - fuckin' - whipping -"
   He aimed and struck a second cut just below the first, right above the
dimples of her knees.
   She screeched again, stamped her bound feet and swung herself to the
right.
   "Swing all you want, piggy," he jeered.  "You ain't goin' nowhere."
   And he struck again, harder, lower, this time making the lash tear
across her plump calves.
   He began to whip her with slow rhythmic strokes, waiting before each
cut, taking his time, enjoying her pain.  There was nothing more beautiful
than a lovely young girl in bondage and pain.  Certainly no artwork Dan had
ever seen, no novel he'd ever read, no symphonic piece, no song or drawing,
no museum masterpiece or contemporary artistic endeavor of any kind could
capture or match the incredible beauty of a woman receiving a flailing
lash. It was sheer poetry in motion to watch Donna twist around as his whip
tore away at her strong young body.  He swung harder doubling the intensity
and enthusiasm of her responses.
   As she circled completely around she offered him the smooth expanse of
her tanned back and the marvelous swell of her ass and the tenderly
sculpted backs of her thighs and kneehollows and calves and her heels and
he jerked off with his free hand as he swung the whip and licked his lips,
his eyes narrow slits of vicious pleasure.
   Taking full advantage of her position he placed stripe after red stripe
on her back and legs as she gasped for breath and jerked around, dizzy, the
collar around her neck almost strangling her...hot red stripes and darker
blue stripes as he struck harder making her feet kick up, she hanging by
her arms, head arched backward in a long shrill cry of pure animal anguish.
   He whipped now with a faster rhythm across the custard-soft globes of
her ass, back and forth, slice after slice.  When her feet swung up off the
floor again he swung the lash across both footsoles wounding her.  Then he
wrapped the whip around her waist with a sharp slicing whappp yanking on
it, turning her around as he unwrapped the lash to strike at her young
titties.  He whipped the front of her body mercilessly drawing tiny flecks
of blood from her belly and upper thighs, drawing hot searing
slash-patterns on both hips.
   Then, he tossed the whip on the floor and walked right up to his
quivering sobbing victim.
   He steadied her with his left hand, gripping her right shoulder, her
head tilting backward, her teary eyes pleading with him as he punched her
with all his strength, this time driving his fist into her crotch, making
her piss herself again as she screamed into the ball gag, her head falling
forward, chin pressing into the high black collar.
   He noticed that she'd shaved her cute little muff in a bikini-cut and it
made him angry to think of her sashaying up and down the beach showing
herself off, being a fucking little tease and not putting out, getting all
the boys and men horny and then laughing at them.
   He punched her crotch again harder and she choke-gasped and pissed blood
as her bladder ruptured.
   "ugghhh...p-pleeeeze...nn-pleeehze!" she cried.
   "Please what, scumbag?" he snarled and punched her pubic triangle again.
"Please WHAT?!"
   She tried to say something but before she could he held her firmly and
drove five more blows into her whip-seared crotch and lower abdomen then
without warning he yanked her head back by the hair and sank his teeth into
her cheek.  The taste of her warm young blood made him dizzy with pleasure.
His cock was fully erect now and it was all he could do to keep from taking
his knife and killing the little bitch right then.
   "I'm gonna cut you, piggy," he whispered in her ear.
   "Nohh!" she sobbed, her eyes pleading with him again.  "Nohh!  Nohh!
Pleeehze!"
   "Yeah....Gonna slice you all up!" he growled gripping her by her hair
and staring her down.
   He laughed meanly.
   "Yes!  Yes, I will....unless..."
   And her pretty gagged face waited, her eyes lost in his.  Blood trickled
down her tanned lash-striped thigh.
   He looked at the ugly dark red crescent his teeth had left on her smooth
cheek.
   "Unless you can get me off," he said softly.  "Your friend Kathie in
there...she got me off and she's still breathing, piggy.  Maybe you can do
the same.  Huh? Whattaya say?"
   He yanked hard on her hair.
   "Give old Dan some pleasure in that pretty little mouth, darlin', and
maybe you'll live another hour..."
   Donna had no way of knowing if he was telling her the truth about
Kathie. Her senses were reeling from the whipping and the beating and the
collar around her neck was so terribly tight that she was seeing spots
before her eyes.  It was true she had not heard Kathie cry out again.  All
she could see through the partly open door where the keys still hung in the
lock was an odd flickering light (candlelight?) coming from the bedroom. 
Maybe Kathie lay in a pool of blood in there just like Larissa out on the
muddy driveway.  Tears streamed from Donna's lovely green eyes down her
bite-marked cheek and into the black collar.
   For a moment the man who called himself Dan remembered Kelli Ann Walford
whose eyes would never look out upon the ocean again and her little
crucifix which he'd yanked off her dead butchered body.
   Slowly Donna nodded in consent to the killer's proposition as she began
to cry.
   Dan's hands slid up and down her flanks from her hips to her arm-pits as
her body heaved with sobs.  His fingers paused casually along the hot
ridged welts his whip had left on her.
   "Mmmmm, yeah," he cooed pulling the naked beaten girl against him, his
big hard cock pressed against her belly.  He enjoyed the sensation of a
weeping female in his arms and he hugged her lovingly, her soft hair
against his cheek, as she cried.  "Yeahh.  Cry for me.  That's right.  Its
alright, sweetie.  Dan's here.  Yeah. That's right.  That's right.  You
just go ahead and cry your little heart out for old Dan."
   Kelli Ann had cried too, cried sweetly and begged to live.
   His big strong hands slid down Donna's curving back to cup her firm
welted asscheeks.
   She had a big full ass.  The kind of ass he could bury his knife in.
   "Mmmmm," he hummed in his throat as he reached up and un-buckled the
ball-gag strap.  He pulled the ball from her lips and let it fall to the
floor then gently he cupped his mouth over hers, licking her swollen lips,
squeezing her firm butt as he kissed her hard tasting her salty tears.  The
bloody emission from her beaten pussy had already trickled down to the rope
strands around her ankles and her helplessly bound body was trapped in his
embrace.  She surrendered herself to him, sliding down to her knees as he
undid the knots that held her wrists above her head.  He stood over her and
took a hold of her hoop ear-rings.
   "Open your mouth wide, " he growled.
   The pretty brunnette obeyed kneeling there, her ankles still rope-bound,
the tight black collar around her neck, her teary emerald eyes looking up
at the killer, her mouth open and drooling.
   "Wider," he ordered.
   "A-ahhh..." she intoned involuntarily as she complied, her tongue
lolling like pink candy between her red lips.
   For a few moments he just stood there watching her, enjoying her
submission then he took a final short step forward and pulled her in by her
hoop-rings as he slid his cock into the sweetly wet warmth.
   The thought ran swiftly through Donna's mind that she could sink her
teeth hard into him, tear off a piece of him, make him hurt like he'd made
her and her friends hurt but then she thought he would kill her
immediately, and kill Kathie too, if she was still alive.  But maybe he was
going to kill them both anyway. Was it worth surviving another hour,
another moment, if the outcome was clear? But was it clear?  Her mind began
to spin again like the little ballerina in the black lacquered box.  He
hadn't even bothered to tie her hands again...maybe she could get the knife
or maybe he would finish with her and go back inside and she could get the
gun.
   He yanked on the hoop-rings and slammed his cock down her throat.
   "I know what you're thinking, pig," he said staring down into her face.
"Do it and you will wish you'd never been born.  I can make a woman live in
terrible pain for weeks.  You and your friend inside will be on the edge of
death but you won't die.  I won't let either of you die.  She will pay for
your mistake right there beside you."
   His words now gave her hope that Kathie was still alive and as he rocked
his hips back and forth sliding his cock in and out of her pretty mouth she
just looked up at him, not even daring to blink.
   "I will cut your life away piece by tiny piece...uhhh...So just kneel
there and take it like a good little cunt and who knows?  You may just get
through this sweetie...mmm...and save your little pal in the
bargain...that's right...suck me, pig...yeahhh...Jerk me off with your
hands...I like to feel a girl's hands on my cock...ahh...that's
right...you're a good little pig...mmmm...squeeze your Master's
cock...mm-hmm...lick my balls.  LICK!...yeahh.  Now swallow it, get it down
in your fucking throat...aahh-uhhh.  You filthy little
cocksucker...yeah...and put your hands behind you.  BEHIND you!  That's
right...goddamn cunt...Just who the FUCK do you think you are?  You're
nothing but dogshit to me bitch...Yeah...SUCK me, dogshit!"
   His left hand moved up to the top of her head to seize her by the hair
while his right hand continued to tug on the hoop ring in her bleeding left
ear-lobe. As he pulled on her he stepped back so that she was forced to
lean forward, hands obediently clutched behind her, ankles still bound
together.
   Her eye-brows furrowed upward and her eyes shut tightly as she struggled
to breathe with the huge man-meat in her throat and the tight collar around
her neck.  Her cheeks soon flared red and she gasped and choked as the hand
on her head moved down to the back of her skull and Dan thrust his hips
forward hilting his manmeat in the young college-girl's captive throat.
   "Suck me you little piglet, make me harder, make me ROCK hard, you
goddamn sleaze-pup...This is what you were made for...yeahh...that's right.
You were meant for nothing else but to please a man like this you piece-of-
shit cunt.  See, men got it wrong when they treat pretty girls like you all
sweet and nice.  THIS is how you really NEED to be treated.  You NEED to be
put in your fucking place...Just like your friend Larissa.  RIGHT in your
fucking place, whore!  Cunt!  Dogshit!"
   A violent pull on her hoop earing finally tore it from her bleeding lobe
and she gave out a small choked off cry as he tossed the ornament aside. It
tinkled across the porch and off into the grass.  He began to yank on the
other ring and she looked up at him.  From her vantage point he seemed a
giant, a towering demented monster.  She closed her eyes and saw the little
ballerina in the black box spinning and bleeding.
   Suddenly, Dan stepped back and slapped his victim hard across the face.
His open palm swept down and smacked her face to one side then the other
hand rose and smacked her the other way.  As she cried out he yanked on the
hoop ring and smeared his prick all over her face.
   "I want your eyes OPEN at all times, pig!" he shouted.  "Now SUCK!"
   With a desperate little-girl cry she swallowed him down, looking up at
him, her fingers twined together behind her.
   "Goddamn PIG!" he spat and yanked with all his might on her ear-ring.
   Her ear stretched to the limit then ripped and she yelped.
   He stepped back again and without warning punched her right in the face.
   The vicious blow whirled her sideways toward the porch steps and she
flew off her knees and rolled off the house and into the wet dirt.
   Her head was still spinning when he yanked her up by the hair and
slammed his fist into her face again breaking her nose with a loud pop. 
Blood gushed from her nostrils and lips as he delivered a series of
crunching punches into her rib-cage and belly.  Then grabbing her head in
both hands he pulled her bloody face back to his now huge organ.
   She opened her mouth as wide as she could to receive him feeling like
her jaw bone was about to be dislocated as he slammed into her.  There was
no thought of resistance now.  She was like a broken puppet for him, like
the little ballerina who could not help but dance when the box lid was
opened.  She sat on her haunches and took it.
   "That's right," he growled fucking her throat, her blood spilling on
him, trickling down his balls.  "Mmmm-hmmmm...Very nice, Donna... You're
such a good little pig...keep going...that's real nice....real nice..."
   It seemed to go on forever, he clutching her collared head in both hands
as the rain steamed on the hood of the idling Cherokee, the headlights
bathing the naked couple in an eerie yellowish light, the conquering male
and his vanquished victim, illuminating too Larissa's silvery cadaver a few
feet away in the edges of shadow, one pretty blood and mud-smeared bare
foot pointing at the night-sky, the other awkwardly angled inward.  Donna
sucked the killer's cock and made helpless little whiny noises not knowing
when he would stop fucking her throat and begin battering her again.  She
dared not close her eyes which she kept on his evil leering face accepting
his cruel staring, accepting and obeying, the way women have always done
from the dawn of memory, the way Dan concluded women would always do,
because it was their nature to surrender and accept.  Occasionally a
raindrop would make her eyes blink but only briefly.
   Then he was stepping away.
   She slid to the ground weakly, sobbing, and just lay in the mud, the
taste of blood and cock choking her, blood still trickling from her pussy,
her body on fire from the multiple cuts of the lash.
   She heard a metallic sound, the cocking mechanism of the shotgun, and
when she looked up he was standing over her with the Winchester pointed at
her beaten cunt.
   "I gotta admit, girl," he was saying softly.  "You gave it your best
try... But Kathie's still the best cocksucker.  Hands down."
   Donna shook her head.  This was it.  He was going to kill her.
   He smiled wickedly as he stood over her.
   "That's right, girl...You know what's coming don't you?"
   "P-pleeease...." she moaned weakly and began to shiver.
   "Bitch, is that the only fuckin' word you know?  Pretty fuckin' lame for
a college girl like you..."
   "DON'T KILL ME!!" she shrieked both hands flailing the air out in front
of her.
   "OHH GOD GOD PLEASE PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"
   He continued to stand there poised menacingly, the smile gone from his
face.
   His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke.  So low she had to
struggle hard to hear him above the patter of the rain.
   "You wanna live a little longer, pig?"
   She nodded wildly, desperately.
   "...don't kill me don't kill me don't...please..."
   "You'll do anything to live, won't you, piggy?"
   "...ahh Godd y-yesss ahhgg any-anything...anything you want...only don't
don't don't don't don't-"
   "Shut the FUCK up, bitch!  - Here's what I want."
   He was still holding the Winchester right over her cunt and she was
frozen there, her hands still up in the air in front of her.
   "I want you to make love to your dead friend."
   Donna's mind raced and spun on the words.  They did not make sense.
   Her hands fell to her sides.
   "...L-L-Laris-Larissa?" she muttered.
   "Your dead pig friend, yes...I want you to get on top of her and kiss
her.  I want to see you eat her dead pussy and stick your face in her
guts...Can you handle that, dogshit?  Huh?  Think you can handle
that....cuz THAT'S what I want...Otherwise..."
   He pressed the barrel of the big gun into her neatly trimmed,
whip-kissed and dark-bruised muff.
   "...NO!" she cried out her eyes wide, slightly crazed.  "I'll do
it...I'll do whatever you want....whatever you want...w-whatever
you...want..."
   "Lie on your back on the ground and spread your legs wide, whore," he
ordered.
   She obeyed without hesitation.
   "Pull your legs up, bend them back, just like when you're waiting to get
fucked...DO IT!"
   She did as he asked and lay there at his feet in the traditional female
missionary position as he raised his cock and pissed right on her pussy. 
As he emptied his bladder he moved up, straddling her between his legs,
tracing a line with his piss-stream up her belly, up between her whipped
boobs and collared neck to her face.  He pissed on her bleeding broken nose
and cheeks.
   "Open your mouth and drink it, dogshit," he ordered softly.
   Again no hesitation.
   Her eyes looked up at him like a lost puppy's as his urine gurgled in
her wide-open lips.
   He took the dog-chain from the duffel bag and hooked it to her collar
then he pulled her up into a crawling position and led her to Larissa's
dead body.
   7.
   Something inside Donna snapped then.  She was no longer in the world she
had always known.
   That world was gone forever.
   Just as the Killer had promised.
   In this world she was the ballerina, pulled from her black jewel box by
a tiny strand around her neck and dropped in the mud to crawl.
   Her life depended upon how well she performed for the cruel ringmaster.
But she wasn't clear on what exactly it was she was supposed to do.  She
had forgotten her steps and there was no music and the strand around her
neck was so tight she could not even think straight.  Her nose hurt and she
tasted blood and piss.
   Larissa was lying in the mud, tied by her wrists and she was all bloody.
   Larissa was staring at the sky.
   Make love to me,' Larissa was saying to her and smiling.
   Eat me,' she was whispering without moving her deathly still lips.
   "Touch her," the ringmaster said.
   "Touch her legs...feel the wounds in her..."
   In slow motion Donna crawled up close to her dead friend.
   "Go ahead," the voice said.  "Touch her...touch the wounds...taste
her..."
   And she had to obey.
   She had to.  There was nothing else.
   Her hand reached slowly, fingers open and slightly curved, blue
fingernails (like her Deep Metal Blue toenails on the edge of the cloud)
catching the yellowish light (the sound of an idling vehicle nearby).
   She touched the dead girl's foot and it was cold and clammy and for an
instant she started to pull her hand back.
   "Go ahead," the voice said.  "Touch her...she likes it...she wants you
to touch her...don't you see?  She NEEDS you to touch her."
   Larissa had pretty feet, unharmed by the blasts of the shotgun.  Pretty
little feet that would never again walk on the hot Florida beach sand or
run bare on the grass or kick up water as she sat laughing on the edge of
the pool.
   Both of Donna's hands now held Larissa's cold furrowed limbs and began
to move up the ankles.
   Larissa had nice legs.  Legs the boys were always looking at.  They were
shapely and tanned and long.  Pretty legs that Donna now wanted to kiss. 
And she bent down to lick the cold, wet, mud-smeared ankles and press her
lips to the arch of the dead girl's feet.
   Ohh yess...' she could hear Larissa say.  That feels so good,
Donna...more...more...'
   Dan the Knife Man watched Donna's lips move up the calf of Larissa's
broken leg and his cock felt steel-hard.  He had completely broken the
little bitch and he was about to see something unforgettable.
   Donna's mouth came to the edges of the shotgun blast, hesitated only
briefly and continued up into the charred and bloody gash in the blown away
knee.
   She licked at the bloody wound, moaned and pushed her broken face
against it.
   "Good girl..." Dan whispered softly.  "You're such a good girl."
   Of course I'm a good girl,' Donna thought silently.  I'm daddy's
good-time girl.'
   I'm the best good-time ballerina girl ever.'
   Her pussy began to tingle and she felt all hot inside.
   As she crawled up Larissa's dead body to Dan's gently tugging leash her
legs opened and she began to thrust the fingers of her right hand into her
needy pussy.
   Dan watched the psychotic sexual scene with dizzying pleasure.
   He had completely broken this female, robbed her of her sanity and
regressed her to her primal animal self.  She bore the marks of his whip
all over her and that made him feel complete ownership over her and over
everything she was doing.  He had beaten her and tortured her and pissed on
her cunt and in her mouth.  Now she was just a plaything for him, with
absolutely no will of her own.
   He thought about going in the house and dragging Kathie out here to
watch the physical and psychological devastation he'd wreaked on Donna but
then he thought he might break the mood of the moment.  Seeing Kathie might
snap Donna back to reality.  It was better to let this play out for as long
as it would last.  In any case, Kathie would be the only one going to the
farmhouse with him afterwards.  She would be alive and suffering long after
these two cunts were in the ground and there would be ample time to have
lots of fun with her.
   Gently at first then with more urgency, moaning, Donna began to lick at
her dead friend's vagina.  She licked up and down the slit and the soft
wrinkled lips, pressing her broken nose into Larissa's cold pussy,
thrusting her tongue into the dead girl's lovehole and shit-smeared anus,
grunting deliriously.
   Dan watched jerking off, enjoying the once-in-a-lifetime show, pulling
gently on the leash-chain again to bring Donna further up Larissa's body to
the gash that led down the front of the dead blonde's body.
   "Get your face inside her, pig," he ordered softly.  "...yeahh...that's
it...nice...all the way inside her...taste her guts...yeahh."
   Donna obeyed robotically now pushing her face into the huge gash Dan had
ripped in the front of Larissa's body.  Her cheeks and eyes pressed into
the still- warm torn viscera as she licked and nibbled at the rubbery
fleshiness inside her dead friend.  The horrid stench and taste of the dead
woman's insides into which the killer had emptied his bladder earlier were
in Donna's broken mind perceived as richly scented flowers.  Larissa's
corpse was full of orchids and lilies, oddly shaped tulips and hibiscus,
that smeared her cheeks with oozing sweetness.  The ballerina smiled and
hot needy pleasure urged her to rub herself, fingers strumming her swollen
clit as she pushed her head into the gutted cadaver.
   "...goddamn..." Dan uttered softly.  He was in awe of the depth of
depravity he had brought about in the young girl.  His prick was ready to
burst with orgasmic pleasure and he had to stop stroking himself to keep
from cumming.
   He dropped the leash chain and moved around to crouch behind Donna in
the mud as the crazed brunnette spread her legs open and knelt over her
dead friend, her head almost completely immersed in Larissa's corpse.
   Donna knelt on Larissa's hips, riding the dead girl, seeming almost to
feast on her, and Dan took the brunette's ass in his hands spread her full
plump cheeks wide apart to push his cock up into her cooze.
   As he slid up into Donna from behind with a grunt seizing her hips to
pull her back against him, her face came up out of Larissa, a piece of
intestine dangling from her chin, her cheeks, forehead and hair covered
with blood, a look of deep rapture on her face.
   "Aghh daddieee!" the crazed bitch wailed and sank her face back into the
messy cadaver under her.
   "That's right," Dan grunted.  "Uhh.  Yeah, darlin'.  Daddy's right
here...right here, you fuckin' pig..."
   He slammed in and out of her for a while listening to her groan and make
slurping sounds inside Larissa's belly.
   Then, he pulled out of her and rose.  He strode slowly around the grisly
tableaux, Donna completely oblivious of him as she dipped her face into her
dead friend's battered corpse.  Larissa's still stared frozenly upward as
Donna's head bobbed in and out of her chest between her mutilated
nipple-less breasts.  Dan's balls were swollen and his cock engorged and
beautifully erect as he looked down on his handywork pacing slowly around
the two females, the living and the dead in their desperate embrace,
Larissa's arms still wired to the stakes in the ground in a final act of
giving to Donna who seemed to feed like a jackal on slaughtered prey.
   He went to the porch and took what was left of the barbed wire.
   Donna's face came up from the blood-mess as Dan pulled one arm to the
stake and wound a piece of wire around her wrist securing it above
Larissa's pale hand.
   She looked at him stupidly, blood dribbling from her lips and chin as he
took the other arm and bound it to the opposite stake.
   Now he stood and drew his knife.
   She followed him with her eyes, craning her head to her right as he
walked around behind her.
   Suddenly she felt his hand take her head firmly and slam her face back
down into Larissa's guts as his massive prick stabbed into her tiny
asshole.
   "Eat, pig!" he snarled and his knife stabbed down into Donna's beautiful
asscheek.
   She screamed with pain and her sphincter tightened deliciously around
his prick.  He held Donna's head inside the dead girl suffocating her while
he repeatedly stabbed her butt-globes and fucked her up the ass.  He traced
long sharp gashes in her back, from her shoulders to her waist.  He stabbed
her upper thighs and she bucked and fought against the barbed wire tearing
her wrists.
   "Oh yeahh," he moaned pulling his cock from her asshole to rub it in the
streams of fresh blood that poured from the stab wounds in her meaty
asscheeks.
   Then he slammed into her again, stabbed the knife into the middle of her
right thigh, leaving it stuck in her while he seized her hips to fuck her
with all his strength.
   Donna's head arched back as she yowled in agony.  The pain had pulled
her from the abyss of insanity and the stench of the dead girl under her
made her gag then puke.  The knife stabbing into her and gashing her had
wiped the hallucinations from her mind and sent her back into the horror of
the moment.  Only vague traces of what she had been doing just moments
before remained in her consciousness, like the traces of a depraved
nightmare.  She felt the violating presence of Dan's monstrous appendage in
her rectum and she screamed for all she was worth as he pushed it to the
limits, splitting her wide, making her little asshole bleed, pulling the
knife from her thigh to stab her again, short quick stabs into the tender
meat of her rump.  He pushed himself in to the hilt and held his cock in
her while he stabbed her legs and calves. Then he was pulling out again and
coming around to crouch in front of her, his hot balls hanging down on
Larissa's dead face, covering her pretty dead eyes as he pulled Donna's
shattered blood-spattered face to his shit smeared shaft, his knife at her
neck.
   "Suck," he snarled.  "Pleasure me."
   Slack-jawed, her eyes docile and beaten, Donna obeyed, straining against
the barbed wire which held her wrists to lift herself higher on top of her
dead friend and cup his long hard prick in her loving lips.
   Obedience was the only way left for her now, the only hope for life of
any kind.
   As Donna sucked his cock sending warm tingling sadistic pleasure all
through him Dan looked up and saw the car-port of the Petersen house and
for the first time he noticed the hooks high up on the concrete wall from
where the garden tools hung.
   He let Donna work him for just a bit longer then he got to his feet.
   It was time to take the little bitch down.
   It was time to rock and roll.
   8.
   Kathie was shoved out of the Petersen house in shackles.
   He'd put the cuffs on her ankles then chained them together before
untying her from the bed.  Then he'd put a slave collar on her and chained
her cuffed wrists to her neck.  Finally he'd jammed the huge black ball
back in her mouth, walked her to the door and pushed her out on to the
porch.
   She was dizzy and off-balance, nearly falling, as he walked her down the
steps toward the Cherokee.  The headlights of the vehicle dazzled and
blinded her.
   Since he'd come back into the house he'd been silent, his eyes hard, his
face like stone.
   He'd removed the candle from her mouth and while he'd hooked her wrists
to the o-rings on the collar, her elbows lifted high and jutting out in
front of her his eyes had trailed up and down her blue-wax spattered body.
He noticed that his bite- marks were already fading on her big tits.  He
smiled.  The next time he would mark those orbs it would be indelibly.
   He was naked and filthy, covered with mud and blood, smelling of
entrails and rut and as their eyes met he stared her down.
   Now as he took her to the Cherokee she looked around, trying to avoid
walking on the sharp stones in the muddy ground which hurt her feet.  Donna
was nowhere to be seen but Larissa still lay where she'd been killed
earlier.
   "Get in," the killer ordered opening the door of the truck.
   Kathie struggled into the vehicle awkwardly and once she was inside he
got into the back and roped her head tightly to the seat neck-brace from
behind her almost choking her, looping the rope right over the leather
collar and the base of her neck.
   "I want you to keep your eyes straight ahead, piggy," he whispered as he
tightened the rope to its limit.  "There's something I want you to watch
and I don't want you turning away."
   Then he stepped out of the vehicle slamming the back door shut and going
around to the driver's side.
   He put the truck in gear and it began to move slowly toward the Petersen
house.
   "Here we go, cunt."
   As he turned left around the corner of the house into the car-port
Kathie saw Donna.
   An involuntary choked off gasp rattled in her throat.
   Her friend had been hung to two hooks high on the wall some five feet
apart by her wrists with barbed wire, and her legs had been hoisted up by
the ankles and drawn back to the same hooks, also with barbed wire, so that
she hung framed in the wide V of her fleshy up-stretched thighs some five
feet off the ground.
   She hung in such a way that, as the Cherokee approached her, its front
grill was level with her abdomen.
   As the vehicle drew closer Kathie could see the abuse Dan had wreaked on
her friend.  Donna's young body was crisscrossed with ugly slashes, welts
and bleeding knife-wounds.  Both her tits had been wrapped in barbed wire
and the nipples had been cut open.  A strand of barbed wire had been tied
around the top of her head reminding Kathie of the images of the thorned
crown on Jesus.  And most savage of all, a nickle-plated metal stake, like
the ones the killer had driven into the ground to bind Larissa's wrists
apart, stuck out of Donna's bleeding cunt and another one was half-buried
in her asshole.
   Now Kathie knew the reason for the terrible shrill screams she'd heard
from inside the house.  She could not have begun, however, to imagine the
reality of her poor friend's hideous torment nor could she have at that
moment grasped the depraved loss of self Dan had submitted Donna to.  But
soon she too would be in Dan's hands.  Soon she too would be the focus of
his demonic lust.  And her suffering would far outweigh that of both her
unfortunate friends.
   "Ever see a car fuck a woman, Kathie?" Dan asked, sadistic glee on his
face as he looked over at his victim, neck-bound to the seat beside him. 
"I know I haven't but I'm sure lookin' forward to it."
   "Mmggg!  Mmgg!" Donna protested as the Cherokee began to inch forward.
   Dan smiled and gently took his foot off the brake.
   The engine engaged and the vehicle rolled into the carport.
   Donna's lovely eyes gleamed in the headlights, wide and terror-filled as
she realized what was coming.  Her legs kicked energetically, muscles
etched sharply against the whipped flesh, ankles bleeding as the barbed
wire held unyieldingly.
   The Cherokee rolled steadily forward and the hard metal grill pushed
gently but firmly into the soft pliant girl-meat hilting the metal stake
deep into Donna's uterus, pressing against bleeding thighs as Dan braked
slowly watching his victim squeal like the female pig he knew she was, her
mouth wide around the ball-gag.
   Again the killer released the brake and stepped lightly on the gas.
   The Cherokee's engine growled and the truck moved forward into Donna's
body crushing it slowly almost lovingly against the concrete end wall of
the carport.
   First, both her thigh bones gave in simultaneously with a loud crack and
next her hips snapped and dislocated, as her young tortured body was
squeezed mercilessly between the metal front grill of the truck and the
wall.  Kathie watched in frozen horror as blood spilled from Donna's mouth
and broken nose in frothy bursts, her eyes rolling back in her head.
   Dan was jerking off as he accelerated the truck into the woman.
   The engine surged responsively the back wheels sliding against the
smooth concrete of the carport then finding purchase.
   Donna's ribs gave with a series of dull wet pops and her screams were
raucous and animal-like, her eyes bulging strangely, cheeks flushed
scarlet, as her belly ruptured and spilled viscera down the car-port wall.
The truck continued to press her into the masonry crushing her chest, the
hot metal hulk pressing into her until her spine snapped and her head
dropped forward on top of the hood.  Finally the truck had gone completely
through the young woman and the bumper was in direct contact with the wall.
   Dan threw the Cherokee into reverse and backed it up a few feet.
   Pieces of Donna spattered to the ground and dripped off the hood and
bumper of the vehicle but unbelievably the young college girl still lived,
lifting her head weakly to look right into Kathie's face one last time.
   It seemed to Kathie her friend was saying goodbye to her from the depth
of her inhuman suffering.  Donna knew the end had come and her beautiful
deep- green eyes as she looked at her friend were filled with a desolate
hopelessness that made Kathie give out a strangled sobbing moan.
   "Yeah...cunt!" Dan snarled.  "Die!" And he drove the Cherokee into the
mangled girl again.
   Kathie screamed into her gag as she was jolted back by the acceleration.
   The upper half of Donna's broken body and her head whiplashed down on
the hood of the Cherokee as the vehicle banged into the carport wall with a
loud thump.  A wash of blood poured from the victim's mouth and across the
dirty yellow hood of the truck right up into the windshield in front of
Kathie.
   A final shudder ran through Donna's body and she lay still.
   Dan backed up the truck and the dead broken girl hung on the carport
wall in the glare of the headlights.
   "What a fuckin' mess," the killer commented heartlessly.
   Kathie was crying, tears glimmering down her cheeks.
   "You just sit there and cry, piggy," Dan told the horrified weeping girl
bound beside him.
   "That's right...You just let it all out.  Let all those feelings go."
   He opened the door and began to step out of the vehicle.  Then he turned
to her again, his face full of sadistic glee.
   "And you rest up, sweetie, cause when Dan's all done cleaning up he's
going to take you to his house and we're going to play.....for DAYS..."
   Kathie sobbed louder as he slammed the door behind him leaving her in
the truck.  His words, dropped on her unexpectedly, had wrapped around her
mind like a steel mesh.  She was not only unable to move physically but now
she was unable to think at all.  He had let her know he had something very
special in mind for her and she could not even begin to grasp what that
could be, what living through this monster's nightmare for another minute,
let alone for days, whole uninterrupted days on end, would possibly
involve. She bit on the gag and breathed in short desperate gasps.
   As if in a dream she watched him outside the truck as he went to Donna
and cut her wrists free of the barbed wire that bound the dead girl to the
hooks on the wall.  Then he lifted the limp, broken victim up and draped
her broken body down across the warm hood of the Cherokee, Donna's head
bobbing off the fender.
   Leering at his horrified captive in the truck through the windshield as
he climbed up on to the hood Dan the Knife Man crouched over Donna and
hoisted her smashed hips upward.  With considerable effort he pulled out
the shit-smeared stake that was buried between the girl's asscheeks and
tossed it aside so that it clattered metalically against the driveway wall.
Then, still staring at Kathie he put his huge cock up to Donna's asshole.
Bluntly, he penetrated the bleeding lifeless corpse. He fucked the
smashed-up girl, a look of blissful rapture on his face.
   Kathie watched this new desecration of her dead friend unable to look
away. She watched the killer's body move rhytmically, his thrusts making
the idling vehicle rock on squeaky springs, his legs coiled as he crouched
over Donna's carcass, his cock pistoning in and out of her bloody anus. 
Kathie could see the tip of the other metal stake jutting out of Donna's
pussy and dripping blood as Dan slammed his cock deep.  The tempo of his
thrusts quickened and he groaned, a sneer of animal pleasure twisting his
mouth.  Then, he pulled his bloody shit-smeared cock out of the lifeless
corpse and turned to Kathie, jerking himself off, facing the windshield,
leaning with one hand on the roof of the Cherokee, staring down at his
captive as he shot hot jets of semen on the glass in front of her face,
growling and grunting with pleasure, his eyes glazed with lust.
   When he was finished he smiled sickly, rubbed the tip of his still
engorged cock on the glass lewdly in front of Kathie smearing it against
the globs of semen, then slid off the Cherokee.  He pulled Donna's body off
the front of the vehicle by the legs.  The dead girl's body slid across the
metal surface leaving a swath of blood and innards in its wake and finally
dropped off the edge with a thump, the pretty head, eyes still open,
thumping against the fender and then the concrete floor of the carport.
   It did not end there.
   He got back in the truck.  The smell of him made her gag and almost
vomit. She tried not to look in his direction as he backed the vehicle up.
   He stopped the Cherokee and put it in neutral reached over and pinched
her nipple in his hard bloodsmeared calloused fingers.
   "Won't be long, now, sweet thing...Your time's coming..."
   He left the truck again slamming the door shut behind him.
   She could do nothing but watch.  Closing her eyes had ceased to be an
option.
   From inside of the Cherokee and as the sun began to rise she watched him
drag Donna's body out next to Larissa and watched him get the big
woodsman's ax from the duffel bag.
   Outside the covering roof of the carport the rain had begun to intensify
again and it spattered the windshield washing away the oozing wads of Dan's
sperm, the blood and gore on the hood, blurring the world for Kathie.
   And what a hideous world it was and she could not turn away as Dan the
Knife Man raised the ax high and began the terrible task of chopping to
pieces the two dead college girls he'd brutally raped and murdered.
   The blade fell and impacted with dull meaty thuds and blood spurted in
every direction as he severed the feet and hands, the legs and arms, then
attacked abdomen and thorax and finally cut the heads off the neck stems,
Larissa still staring upward, Donna's face in the mud as she was beheaded
from behind.
   Then he stuffed the remains of his kills into large garbage bags,
occasionally stopping to jerk off and look back at the truck and sneer at
his captive, his cock once again fully erect.
   He got Larissa's keys from the door of the Petersen house and opened the
trunk of the Mercedes.  He tossed the plastic bags and the pieces of his
victims' clothing and belongings that were scattered all around the
property into the rear of Larissa's vehicle.  Kathie watched him enter and
exit the house several times, tossing more items, including the blue
candles, into the trunk, and then she saw him take the garden hose that
hung from a faucet in the front yard and hose Donna's blood from the
carport wall and floor.  He also hosed down the porch as well as the area
where Larissa had been shot and disemboweled.  When he finished, shutting
off the water and returning the hose to the position he'd found it in she
saw him go around the back of the house and could not know that he was
re-attaching the electrical and phone wires.  Instead she saw the lights
come on in the house and realized then that he had been responsible for the
black-out and not the storm.  She saw him go into the house and shut the
lights off then emerge closing the door behind him to stand naked on the
porch slowly stroking himself and looking in her direction.  Now she
realized that this monster had meticulously planned everything that had
happened that night and the idea added to her paralyzing terror.
   Slowly, he walked back to the truck, opened the rear passenger door and
entered.
   She sensed him behind her, felt his presence although she could not
look, heard the slow wet stroking sound of his hand on his manmeat, heard
his slow even breath.
   She felt him lean forward, felt his hands in her hair and on her cheeks.
   He made a low purring sound in his throat as his hands moved down to her
fat boobs to cup them gently; the weird cat-like noise sent chills through
her.
   Then he undid the rope around her collared neck and she was able to
breathe more freely and she felt almost dizzy.  He stepped out of the
truck, opened her door and drew her out leading her toward the Mercedes. 
She hobbled across the wet driveway, her leg and wrist chains rattling, the
rain cold on her naked skin.
   He brought her to the opened trunk of the Larissa's car.
   Four large opaque, dark brown garbage bags lay inside, neatly tied off.
   "You're gonna ride with your friends, piggy," the killer said and
grabbing her by one arm in one hand and her wet disheveled hair in the
other, he pushed her into the open trunk.
   Kathie's knees hit the rear bumper and she stumbled and fell on to the
bags screaming into the black ball gag as the killer lifted her shackled
legs into the vehicle and slammed the lid down.  She was instantly engulfed
in darkness.
   The plastic surfaces under her yielded as she felt the hard chunks of
human meat shift under her.  The smell of blood and shit almost choked her
and she tasted bitter vomit in her throat fighting to keep it down.
   Outside she heard the engine of the Cherokee approach, heard some
metallic snaps and then after a few moments felt the Mercedes lurch
forward. Again the bags shifted wetly under her.  Tatters of her friends'
clothing clung to her wet legs.
   The car was being towed.
   She began to gasp as the vehicle moved faster.  The air in the trunk was
stifling hot and full of the stench of death.
   Outside the rain began to pour down and she could hear the patter of the
drops on the trunk lid.  The truck towing the convertible left the driveway
and turned on to the empty highway.
   The full dimension of her predicament hit her full force then.  She
tried to roll over and felt herself sink down into the wet plastic of the
bags.  She tried to call out for help but felt herself weakening,
trembling, helpless...alone in the darkness.  The images of the long
terrible night filled her mind.  She remembered the flash of the shotgun,
her friend Larissa's gruesome disemboweled death, remembered the savage
rape on the Petersens' bed, the killer filling her hard and deep, making
her give herself to him and emptying his thick salty cum in her mouth... 
She remembered how he'd crouched before her on the hood of the Cherokee
after Donna's horrible murder and jerked off, his jissom jetting out on the
windshield, Donna laying dead, draped over the Cherokee like some hunted
deer.
   She knew now that she had given herself to him for nothing, just as
she'd first thought.  Larissa was dead, Donna was dead and soon she would
be dead too....or would it be soon...would it be quick...?
   It didn't seem likely.
   What had he said?
   We're going to play, piggy...play...for DAYS...'
   She began to weep.
   She was still weeping fifteen miles later when the Cherokee towing the
blue Mercedes convertible swung off the highway on to the dirt road.
   Part Two The Farmhouse
   1.
   The tall oak tree stood like an open-armed sentinel at the end of the
road, framed in the reddish glow of dawn.  By the time the truck rolled up
to it the twittering of birds already filled the air.
   Dan sat behind the wheel and watched the wind roll across the vast
expanse of swamp-grass moving the stalks in sweeping waves.  If he listened
carefully he could hear an occasional muffled sob from the trunk of the
Mercedes behind the truck.  The sound made him hard, made his balls swell
and tingle.  The smell of the kills was still fresh on him, a dank bloody
stench, even through his clothes which he'd put on so as not to attract any
undue attention on the road.  Now he pulled off his t-shirt and reached
into the glove-compartment for the bug repellent which he sprayed on his
hands and smeared on his chest, arms and face.
   He stepped out of the air-conditioned truck and into the humid heat of
the swamp.  The metal slam of the Cherokee's door behind him was an
unexpected intrusion into the deep quiet of the surroundings.  Except for
the birds and the sound of Kathie crying inside the convertible there was a
stillness so deep and perfect that it was almost haunting.
   Dan loved the stillness of nature, the awesome quiet.  He felt at home
in it, so completely at home where things grew wild and unwatched, where
there were no explanations required, where life moved to primal and perfect
rhythms unclouded by childish human morality.  He had found this
particularly isolated spot one day while just driving around and following
dirt roads.  Of course, in the back of his mind he'd known he wasn't just
driving around...there was a purpose to his little trips into the Florida
wilderness.  Here was a place far from prying eyes, sparsely populated and
policed, perfect for his predatorial activities'.
   As a lawyer Dan had spent countless hours in libraries studying old
books, writing briefs, worrying about grades as a student then job-status
at the firm. The quiet of nature was not the quiet of the library contrived
and lifeless. It was a silence pregnant with possibilities, rich with
terror and pleasure, looming and dangerous.  This was the silence where he
belonged.  The man who called himself Dan was no longer the man who had
once called himself Tom Waverly.  Tom Waverly had tried to survive in a
world of people and ethics, laws and libraries.  But he was not meant for
that life.  The violent books and magazines he'd secretly perused between
legal tomes, the writings of DeSade which he'd returned to again and again,
showed him that.  Dan had showed him that.  He had shown him clearly by
taking over and killing a whore outside a bar years earlier, by driving his
knife, Dan's knife, deep into succulent bitch-flesh even as he drove his
cock deep into her cunt, fucking and killing the female to fulfill the
masculine desire which drove him.
   Four kills later, his fifth intended victim, Chrissy Saunders, the first
and only bitch he would ever allow to survive, escaped him.  Tom Waverly's
life came to an end.  The five long years in prison hardened the killer,
sharpened him to a fine edge, honed all his savage instincts.  He'd worked
his body on weights and studied Eastern philosophy books in the prison
library.  He learned to meditate and seek his deepest nature, the flowing
deepest darkest rivers of his inner self.  He descended often into the
source of his demonic craving, fathomed its depths, understood his karmic
purpose.  He was a female-killer and he learned to accept and glory in his
life mission.  It was clear to him that nothing would ever be more pleasing
to him than to stifle a young woman's life and to watch her suffer, to
drink from her pain like a lion from lamb's blood.  Where other men saw
beauty and seduction he saw kill- meat, flesh that should be punished and
made to hurt, pretty lips that were meant to be wide and screaming, lovely
eyes that were meant to cry and plead.  Women had to be hunted and brought
down.  Their spirits broken.  Their living energy terminated...  flesh,
bone and muscle returned to the deep silent place in nature, the place of
ultimate belonging.
   He opened the trunk of the Mercedes and wordlessly reached down to pull
Kathie out by the chain leash attached to her slave-collar.
   Blinded by the sudden brightness in her eyes the gagged, dazed, weeping
college girl let herself be pulled upward and led out of the trunk and to
the towering oak tree at the edge of the field, her cramped legs and arms
throbbing as she was made to crawl, still in chains, on the wet muddy
ground.  Instantly the gnats began to buzz in her eyes and sting her
everywhere.  Larger insects were drawn to the sweet source of flesh to
suckle her sweat and bite her.
   Dan drew the leash all the way around the tree trunk, clipping the free
end to an o-ring in Kathie's tight leather collar so that she was bound by
her neck, the back of her head right up against the rough bark, the
voluptuous young woman on her haunches and helpless as he walked back to
the Mercedes.
   She watched him pull out the brown trash-bags and carry them a few steps
into the tall grass, then she saw him return to the Cherokee for a shovel.
Still weeping she watched the killer bury the remains of her friends in the
swamp, hearing the repetive wet scrunch of the shovel as it carved out the
grave, seeing the man's strong angular movements, his singularity of
purpose as he dug.  Kathie was being stung all over and she had to keep
flinching and jerking around to shoo the insects off.  The rough bark of
the oak scraped the back of her neck her shoulders and back.  Mosquitoes
descended on the tender flesh of her naked tits, drawn instinctively to the
warm aurolae and nipples to drive their stingers to the hilt in the captive
female's succulent mammaries.
   It seemed forever as the sun rose slowly.  The sky was clear and
cloudless as the killer finished and made his way back to the truck.
   She watched in a haze of misery tormented by the stinging insects and
the tight chain which held her immobile, her jaw aching from the ball-gag,
as Dan disengaged the Mercedes from the Cherokee's tow-bar, started it up
and backed it into the tall grass, further and further until the car began
to sink and disappear.
   Now there was no trace left of her or her friends for anyone to find.
   Now she belonged to the killer and she began to cry fitfully feeling the
full extent of her anguish, her lovely black hair hanging over her eyes,
sticking to her sweaty forehead and tear-washed cheeks.
   Then he was coming for her, the coiled bullwhip in his hand and she
cringed from him against the oak.
   He stood over her framed in the early morning sun.
   "Time to start the new day, bitch," he said meanly reaching down to
unhook the end of the leash from her neck and release her from the tree.
   Then she was being pulled by the leash to crawl across the muddy
clearing and toward the woods, her chains rattling as her legs dragged,
knees scraping the ground.
   2.
   "I'm going to break you, whore," he told her, leaning forward to whisper
the words softly in her ear.
   He had brought her to a patch of birch trees, yanked her up on her feet
by her leash and tied her between two thin white trunks, her wrists high
up, arms wide.
   He had removed the leather cuffs and chains and looped her tender wrists
with ropes knotting them tightly, so tight that almost instantly her hands
went numb, then her feet as he forced her to spread her legs and roped her
ankles to the trunks of the two trees.
   She let him bind her, did not struggle, did not fight him.  And even now
that he had removed the ball-gag she did not speak.
   She had stopped crying and her face now looked vacant, her eyes
lifeless.
   Dan liked that look.
   It was the look of the victim, already defeated, already accepting.
   He had seen the look before and it always energized him, made him feel
truly alive, in touch with his deepest karmic nature.  Kathie was almost
his now, probably more than half-way to complete surrender.
   He'd seen the patch of birch trees when he'd first explored the area and
he'd known instantly what the sturdy upright pole-like trunks would be
useful for, especially the two trees that were five feet apart.  He'd
drilled the eye-hooks into the wood high up, high enough to make Kathie
stand tiptoe now as he stepped back away from her.
   He unfurled the bullwhip as he'd done on the porch of the Petersen house
the previous night in preparation for his savage attack on Donna and he
waited watching his prey closely, studiously.
   Kathie began to tremble involuntarily in anticipation of the pain she
knew was coming but she would not make any eye contact with the killer. 
Her body was exceedingly beautiful in the cruel bondage, creamy pale flesh
stretched tight, her rib-cage and hip-bones strikingly etched, thigh
muscles flexing slightly above her knees, feet painfully and stiffly
arched. She was a luscious whip-target, her big juicy tits jutting from her
chest, arms pulled apart, legs wide.
   Slowly, Dan paced around Kathie until he stood behind her.
   Her back muscles rippled, her skin dappled in the morning sunlight, her
firm full ass-cheeks clenching and releasing as the killer took his time,
his cock bulging in his jeans as he tightened his grip on the lash-handle.
   Just then a breeze rustled the tree-leaves overhead.  Kathie moaned and
her calves tensed as she tried to relieve the pressure on her wrists.  She
broke out in gooseflesh.
   As she rose slightly on her toes, rising as far as the ropes would
allow, Dan lifted his arm and swung the bullwhip.
   After years of practice he'd finally learned to use this perfect weapon
of punishment and he made its fat tip snap loudly against Kathie's tender
white flesh between her shoulderblades.  The hard leather laid a hot small
welt there that made the young bitch cry out and tense up instantly, her
head swiveling from side to side as she tried to look back over her
shoulder at him trying to gauge the next blow.
   He didn't let her wait too long for it and swung again, this time
tearing the lash into her left shoulder and making her pull herself up
almost off her feet, eyes shut tightly.
   "Nooo!" she screamed.  "Ohh Godd...HELP!  gh...gh...HE-ELP ME!"
   "That's right, bitch!" Dan shouted gleefully raising the lash again.
   "Scream!  Scream your fuckin' head off!"
   He tore the lash across her right shoulder.
   She sobbed and tried to twist away held between the two trees by the
unmerciful ropes.e
   The whip swept and whooshed loudly as he sent its punishing strokes
against the young female's back and shoulders.  Dan loved the racket, the
fierce crack-snap of leather, the dull thud of the blows on woman-meat, the
wild cries of pain and pleas of the victim out here in the wilderness.  He
was cruelly methodical, not sparing his prey in any way, giving her the
full measure of the bullwhip, flogging her back and wrapping the leather
tail around her waist, setting her ablaze with pain before moving down to
strike at the fleshy half-moons of her buttocks.  He concentrated his
attack there slicing away at the meat of her ass then pausing to hear her
wail and plead with him, slicing away again drawing blood here and there on
her tender flesh, then stopping to listen.
   The sound of a woman in pain was the sweetest music.  The rhythm of his
strokes was at first measured and even, taking almost a full three seconds
between blows, then faster, then irregular, then measured again, varying
unpredictably until Kathie no longer even tried to look over her shoulders
but hung her head and screamed and hissed helplessly, her face flushed.
   She'd never imagined, much less felt, such levels of pain in her life
and she hovered on the edge of consciousness, on the edge of sanity.  The
events of the previous night and the nightmare ride in the trunk of the
convertible, chained, gagged, unable to see, surrounded by the smell of her
dead friends bodies so horribly mutilated and now this wicked slashing
assault on her flesh, all of it was taking a terrible psychological toll on
the college girl.
   The whip began to lick at her thighs and calves, to wrap around her
legs, leaving hot red welt-lines, irregular ugly red-smears.
   Then, suddenly the killer stopped his onslaught.
   Her head hung down, her chin agains the hard leather of her collar, her
lustrous hair hanging down like an upside down black flame in front of her
crotch.
   She was surrounded by the soothing sighing sounds of the woods, the
breeze moving the leaves, birds chirping, but she was lost in the scalding
pain the bullwhip had left on her and she could look down on her thighs and
see the tell-tale marks that were the unassailable proof of her suffering.
   Then she heard him approach her from behind, there was something in his
hand, she tried to turn to see but he grabbed her hair from behind and held
her head firmly.
   She saw what it was only as he brought it up between her legs from
underneath her...  a long wooden phallus with sharp little metal barbs
studded all along its two foot lenghth.
   He pushed it up against her pussy and then drove it upwards into her,
still holding her head and jamming her full of stretching piercing pain.
   "G-gghrraaaaagggg!" she shouted animalistically as Dan pushed the
two-foot long wooden torture-dildo into her, grinding it and rotating it to
maximize its effect until blood dripped down her whip-marked legs.  He had
made the device himself, carving it from a birch-branch just a few days
before, nailing the little studs into the birch-wood knowing what its final
purpose was to be.
   "Take it, you fuckin' cunt!" he snarled and then he was stepping back,
leaving the invading weapon hilted in his college girl.
   As he let her go her head tilted backward and she screamed shrilly at
the sky above the trees.
   He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out to jerk off.
   Kathie was a lovely sight for sadistic eyes, hanging between the two
birch- trunks, fucked up the cunt with a birch branch, whip-welts on her
belly and thighs.
   He picked up the bullwhip from the ground where he'd dropped it earlier,
a few feet away, and now stood facing his captive, raising the lash.
   Her head swiveled down as she looked at him with pitifully pleading
eyes.
   "Oh God...God...please...n-no...no!...NO!"
   "YES, CUNT, YES!"
   And he let the bullwhip fly and swoop and crash across her belly and
upper thighs making her dance between the two trees, going way up on her
toes, the wooden stake buried in her slit.
   He gave his blood-thirsty lust free rein now striking angrily and
meanly, his face disfigured by a vicious scowl.
   This is where bitchmeat belonged, wood-bound, wood-fucked, on the end of
his flailing bullwhip.
   Kathie took the pain with screams that left her throat raw, her body
leaping, twisting, unable to escape the flailing well-placed cuts.  The
bullwhip licked and tore at her strong pale thighs, at her belly and lower
abdomen and mons flicking skin right off her, hot blood snaking down her
legs.  Then it moved down to her knees and ankles hacking and tearing at
her pretty little tattoo, at the tops of her feet as she jerked around.  It
would stop and start again, stop and start again, sometimes faster,
sometimes slower, each loud whapp seeming to rip the silence of the Florida
woodland apart.  Each time the beating stopped the insects moved in on her,
buzzing about her face and eyes, landing on her cheeks, biting her
everywhere.  Then the whip would fly again and the insects would scatter.
   What was happening to her was way beyond any sane explanation.
   This morning she was supposed to be on her way to a job interview after
breakfast with Donna and Larissa.  Instead, Donna and Larissa lay in hacked
up pieces in the swamp mud and she was screaming under a madman's lash, her
pussy split wide and torn by a huge wooden cock.  Maybe the killer meant to
kill her right here, right now, with the bullwhip.  She was already
bleeding and almost fainting from the pain.  Was this how she was going to
die?  What had she done to deserve this?  Why had this beast chosen her and
her friends?  This was supposed to happen to someone else...those women
she'd read about in magazines and newspapers, or as fiction in novels or
films like the one she'd seen last night...but not to her friends...not to
her.
   The flailing lash moved up her legs to her belly laying down new streaks
of intolerable pain and Kathie's head tumbled forward, her body shaking
involuntarily. She sobbed and babbled and the whip continued to fall,
mercilessly, unceasingly, stroke after stroke moving up to her rib-cage and
sides but avoiding her tits, then moving downward again.  The killer
circled around her swinging from different vantage points and she tried to
track him pleading with him.
   "Pleeease!  A-aaOOOWW!...God!  Oh plea-UUHHWHHH!  Don't hurt me any
more...don't h-AAWHHHH!...I BEG YOU...OOOOWGGHHH!  WHY!? PLEEEeeease!  Why
do you do this?  AANNHHHH!  Wh-whyyyyy!?  STOP!  No more!  NO
M-AAAUWWWGGHH!"
   Dan continued to deliver fierce whip-cuts across Kathie's back and legs,
swinging the lash across the captive college girl with all his might.  He
swung back and forth, up between her spread thighs into her dildo-filled
pussy and down across her rump.  Finally, some fifty blows later she
stopped screaming, gasped, took five more full-strength hits wide-eyed and
shivering then jerked violently against the ropes and fainted.
   The killer dropped the bullwhip and stepped up to the unconscious youth
to pull the barbed dildo out of her slowly, her warm blood trickling down
the birchwood shaft and on to his fingers.  He took his knife from the
sheath at his waist and cut her down, freeing her ankles first, then her
wrists, she drooping inert, hanging by one arm as he cut one wrist free
then falling to the ground at his feet with a thump when he cut the
remaining rope.
   Then he lifted her up in his arms, enjoying the feverish warmth of her
badly beaten body in his strong hands as he carried her out of the woods
and back to the clearing.  He put her down on the ground near the truck and
placed the cuffs and chains back on her wrists and ankles noting how his
cruel ropes had marked and chafed her graceful limbs.
   She started to come to then.
   He rose to his feet, his huge blue-veined prick poking out of his jean
trousers. He rolled her over on her belly and put his booted foot over her
head, pressing her whimpering face into the swamp mud.
   "Before I kill you you're gonna be mine, pig.  I told you I was going to
break you..."
   He pressed her face deeper into the dark slime.
   "...and I am going to break you...completely...absolutely...You're gonna
go the limit for me piggie...yes you are...all the way to the end...and
then some."
   He licked his lips and let his eyes trail down her body, over the dark
red and purple welts his whip had marked on her, the places where his
leather had ripped her skin, her swollen pussy-lips dripping blood into the
ground from the damage of the barbed wooden dildo.
   "Now I'm gonna let you up and you're gonna answer a little question for
me, understand?"
   She tried to nod.
"Say: Yes, Master, this worthless bitch understands."
   When she hesitated he pressed his foot down harder.
   "...ugghh!yes..." she sputtered.  "Y-yes, master...this...uh...this
w-worthless bitch understands..."
   He reached into the truck and took the shotgun then lifted his foot off
her head.
   Weakly she rose up on her knees.
   "Here's the question, cunt...Would you rather die right here and now?" -
he cocked the shotgun and aimed the barrel right at her face - "Or would
you rather come to my farmhouse with me?"
   She looked up at him utterly lost.  He was silouhetted against the giant
oak, his face impassive, an inscrutable mask.  He watched her eyes well up
with fresh tears.  He knew her answer before she uttered it.
   "...farmhouse..." she said feebly.
   "Good choice," he replied as he leaned the shotgun against the Cherokee.
   "But before we go you're gonna suck my cock again...yeah...that's
right...you heard me...right here, a few feet from your little dead school
buddies buried in the mud...yeah, suck me...  like a good little slut."
   He stepped up to her and lifted his erect prick to her face.  She
whimpered and shook her head.
   "Suck me off or die now, cunt," he snarled taking her long dark mane in
his hands.
   She opened her lips wide and closed her eyes.
   He slapped her face hard still holding her by her hair.
   "Open your fuckin' eyes!" he spat.
   She obeyed instantly as the blush of his blow spread across her smooth
cheek.
   "I want you to look at up at me while you suck me..."
   Dan pushed his prick into his victim's mouth and pulled her toward him
by her hair to fuck her face.  She winced a bit but kept her eyes on his.
   "That's right...Good girl," he whispered.
   She began to cry as she sucked him, her tears rolling down his cockshaft
and down on to his balls as he looked out over the endless terrain that led
to the horizon.
   He took his pleasure for nearly a half hour and when he finished with
her, shooting off in her mouth and making her drink it then wiping it off
on her face he let her crumple to the ground in a fetal position and went
to the grave of the two women.
   There he emptied his bladder, put his cock back in his pants, zipped up
and returned to the truck.
   He opened the rear cargo door of the Cherokee, gagged Kathie, pushing
the black ball into her sperm-dripping mouth and lifted her into the back
of the truck.
   After draping a tarp over the beaten, defeated female he started up the
truck and drove off in the direction of the farmhouse.
   3.
   It was a small room, concrete walls and floor, empty save for an old
wooden table, and dark except for light bulb which dangled from above in
one corner.  There were blood-stains on the walls and floor and on the
table's surface. There were polaroid pictures of a young girl cut up and
bleeding taped to the walls.
   Kathie hung naked, upside down, by her leather-cuffed ankles from two
metal hooks in the ceiling, legs wide apart forming a wide V, a black
blindfold over her eyes.
   The killer had placed alligator clips on her pussy lips and every ten
minutes or so she received a jolt of electricity from an automated voltage
regulator.  It was not enough juice to be serious but it was enough to make
her jerk around and groan.
   Her arms were stretched apart and roped to metal hooks on opposite
walls.
   Her pretty hands opened and closed, sometimes clenched into fists.
   The whip-marks from the beating that morning had all turned ugly and her
lovely body was a mass of dark stripes and bruises.
   While she'd hung there he'd been tempted to whip her again.
   So he'd gone to the rack on the wall, picked up the three-foot long,
quarter- of-an-inch thick wooden dowel and approached his hanging victim.
   Taking his time, walking around her and choosing his targets carefully
he'd caned Kathie's thighs and lower belly.
   Each severe swat had driven wood into girlmeat with decisive fury making
the young bitch yelp and howl.  She could do nothing but anticipate the
next cut as her Master slowly circled her.  She would hear his bare feet on
the concrete floor and then he would stop and then the high-pitched whistle
of the wooden stick would fill the room and the dull whapp would follow
sending fiery pain-bursts through her. Her stretched legs would kick and
bend enticingly, her feet wriggling above the tight leather cuffs.  He
concentrated his efforts on the meaty backs of her thighs, taking his time
between blows, jerking off, stepping closer to rub his cock against her
welted back, then stepping back to hit and hit her again and again in the
same spot, harder, harder until the vicious pain had made her piss herself.
The urine ran hot down her belly and back, into her dangling mane of hair
to drip down and puddle on the floor under her.
   A small pair of walkman earphones led from Kathie's head to a portable
cassette recorder on the table beside her.
   "You are slime," the voice on the tape kept saying to her over and over
as the wooden stick slammed into her legs and belly, wounding her, making
her writhe and shiver.
   It was Dan the Knife Man's voice.
   "You are shit." It said to her.
   "You are worthless."
   "You will die for your Master," it told her.
   "Say it," it beckoned.
   Electrical bursts shot into her swollen pussy.
   The stick struck the sides of her hanging thighs.
   At first she did not say it.  Would not say it.
   Dan delivered a final brutal stroke across the sensitive area just above
her hips which made left her spasming and groaning and he retreated to
watch her hang.  He sat in the shadows on the comfortable easy chair,
sipping lemonade as the tape looped over and over playing its demented
mantric message loudly into Kathie's ears.
   Dan jerked off with slow even strokes.
   The sight of a female hanging upside down always got him going.
   Blood trickled from a few of the strokes his wooden rod had laid on her.
   She twitched and groaned as the electricity discharged in her pussy.
   He sat in the darkness of the room he'd built in the abandoned
farmnhouse, his torture room where Kelli Ann had died for him and watched
the college girl hang there, blind, helpless and losing her mind.  The
sense of total power and control over her young life made him feel almost
dizzy with pleasure.
   At first she did not say the words.
   But eventually she did...at first unrecognizably, muttered, almost
breathed into the shadows.
   Then clearly.
   "I will die for m-my Master."
   Dan's balls tingled at the sound of it.
   He jerked off a little faster.
   Soon it would be night again outside.
   4.
   Later, Dan lay naked on the dirty mattress on the old four-poster bed,
in the room at the front of the abandoned farmhouse, looking up at the
night-sky through the cracked window-pane and the wackily tilted venetian
blind.  Beyond the hum of the air-conditioner he'd stuck in the ancient
slide-up window a year before and connected to the gasoline-driven
generator he'd rigged up outside he could hear Kathie's moans and monotone
repetitions of the words on the tape.  The sound was lulling him to sleep.
   After beating her again for almost a half hour with the wooden rod he
had shot off on her face as she hung upside down crying, pumping his shaft
with his right hand and squeezing his balls with his left, until he emptied
himself on the young student.  Then he'd let her down only to hang her up
again this time by her wrists on her knees, ankles bound with wire to an
eye-hook in the floor-boards, alligator clips in her pussy and an
additional pair in her nippls so that all night long the young bitch would
be in constant psychological and physical torment.
   Before leaving her he'd re-filled his glass with the lemonade, cold from
the refrigerator in the kitchen and he stood over her drinking.
   She looked up at him, sweaty, disheveled, his sperm-gobs on her cheeks,
her eyes pleading, then closing tightly as the electricity shot into her
pussy and nipples.
   "Want some, bitch?" he asked, holding the lemonade close to her face so
that she could feel the cool surface of the glass on her hot forehead.
   The torture room was not air-conditioned like the bedroom.  It was a
window- less hot-box which had been the pantry of the old farmhouse.  It
was perfect for Dan's private work.  Kelli Ann's screams had filled it.  In
fact, it was the dead teenager's blood that still stained the table
surface, the pale white walls and floor.  It was the polaroids he'd taken
of her during the interminable torture that were still taped all over the
room.  He'd seen Kathie's horror when her eyes had lingered on the more
gruesome ones, the ones he'd blown up on his computer, the ones where Kelli
Ann lay bound to the table as he sliced off her little titties with the
scalpel.
   He poured the lemonade out on Kathie's whipped up-raised shoulder and
the cold liquid ran down into her arm-pit and down her side to drip on the
floor.
   She licked desperately at her skin, gasping.  Sticky smears of his cum
linked her face to her upper arm.
   "Pleease, Master," she moaned looking up at him.  "Pleeease...I'm th-
thirsty..so..so thirsty..."
   "Thirsty, bitch?" He smiled down on her.  "Drink this," he'd growled.
   Lifting his cock he'd pissed in her face and she'd opened her mouth,
grimacing in disgust, trying to placate her thirst with his hot gush.  His
urine had over-filled the round o' of her pink lips to run down the front
of her body filling the air-less room with its sharp pungency; it puddled
with her own waste which had earlier drained from her hanging body to the
floor during the beating with the wooden rod.
   He'd laughed at her, pissed on her face and on her tits, rubbed his dick
clean in her hair then placed the lemonade glass, still half-full where she
would be able to see it but never reach it, a couple of feet away, on the
edge of the table.
   For a bit longer he'd watched her jerk around to the electrical jolts
from the regulator box, her eyes dazed but fixed on the glass of lemonade
on the table.
   He made sure the walkman earphones through which his hypnotic voice
continued its inescapable assault on her sanity still fit snugly over her
head and he raised the volume a notch.
   Then, without a word he'd turned left the room and closed the heavy
wooden door behind him.
   He'd left the light on for her so that she could look at the glass of
lemonade all night long while the smell and taste of his piss and sperm
cloyed her throat.
   As he lay on the worn out mattress where he'd raped Kelli Ann the year
before, enjoying her in every way he could before finishing her young life,
Dan drifted off to sleep, his cock still hard, the image of Kathie bound
between the two birch trees out on the swamp clear in his head...and then
the darker images of disemboweled Larissa...Donna crushed by the truck
against the wall...long-ago Anna Wilkins screaming as the chain-saw tore
her in half...the three college girls gruesomely crucified and spilling
their guts... all played deliciously in his mind, each blood-thirsty detail
of his kills carrying him deeper into the midnight of sleep.
   And in the farmhouse pantry turned torture-chamber Kathie too descended.
   For her the night was lived in micro-seconds under the single bare
light-bulb, an eternity.
   Her bound limbs had long ago gone numb.  Her knees ached terribly and
she was unable to shift her position even slightly to avoid the pain.
   Dan's sperm and piss dripped from her chin on to her tits and off her
nipples in tiny droplets.
   Her eyes drifted from the cold glass of lemonade the Master had left on
the table to the pictures of a young girl taped to the wall whose little
breasts were being sliced off.
   She imagined she could hear the young girl scream as the Master pressed
his sharp demanding blade into young tanned flesh.
   She would almost nod out and then the electrical torture would again
attack her pussy and nipples, waking her, punishing her cruelly, reminding
her that as a woman she had absolutely no other choice now but to suffer
with her tits and her cunt...to pay...because as the voice kept telling her
she was nothing but slime and shit...She was no longer Kathie the college
student, the art major who studied Monet and VanGogh but the lowest of all
living things...worthless...Because of her, it reminded her repetitively,
her friends had been slaughtered.  Because of her, her family would suffer.
Her cunt and her big pretty tits had brought this about and needed to be
punished.  As woman-meat she was guilty.  Had always been and would always
be.  And her sins deserved the worst punishment imaginable.  Worse perhaps
than even what that young girl in those photographs had taken.  Worse than
could even be imagined.
   And sometime in the night as she slid lower and lower, sometimes just
before the electricity flowed she could feel the Master's huge cock inside
her as he slammed her down into the Petersen's bed in what now seemed a
lifetime ago...  And then his massive appendage became in her drifting mind
the birch-wood dildo slammed up into her during the fierce whipping in the
swamp.
   She would moan softly, repeating the words on the tape which were now
becoming her own words as her delicate feminine spirit began to break down
under the viciously pre-calculated assault.
   I am nothing.  I am no one.  I am worthless.
   ....nothing.....no one....worthless....
   ....I am shit....I belong to Him...I will live only to please Him....
   ....I will die for the Master
   ....bleed and die....for the Master...
   Broken, she hung there, kneeling, her eyes glassy and inexpressive.
   5.
   When morning came, he slapped her awake and tore the alligator clips off
her with two savage tugs.  Then he pulled the walkman earphones off her
head and cut her loose.
   She slid to the floor at his feet and lay there in a catatonic daze.
   He reached down and hooked the leash to her collar to drag her out to
the kitchen.
   "Crawl, pig," he ordered.
   She obeyed, shuffling after him with much difficulty groaning as blood
rushed back into her hands and feet and cramped muscles.
   He had dumped something that looked like oatmeal into one plastic bowl
and water into a second bowl and he pushed her face toward the bowls tying
the end of the leash to the door knob above her.
   She ate desperately, gagging, choking back her disgust, and lapped
gasping thirstily at the water while he sat at the table to coffee and
toast.
   It hadn't taken long to turn the bitch into the animal she was, he
mused, watching her push her whole face into the bowl, occasionally raising
her pretty eyes to glance fearfully in his direction.
   "That's right," he growled at her.  "Eat it all up like a good little
bitch- dog...You're gonna need all your strength today for me..."
   Dimly, as she saw the light of the sun through the dirty kitchen
windows, she realized a new day had begun....a new day of torment...
   He tossed her a piece of his bread and she licked it up off the floor.
   When he rose from the table she cowered against the wall.
   He went to her, unwound the leash from the door-knob and pulled her out
into the bright morning.
   The yard around the farmhouse was completely walled off by a ten-foot
high wooden fence.  Beyond the fence there were pinelands to the north and
swamps to the south.  The nearest neighbor was ten miles to the east.  The
nearest town was forty six miles in the same direction.  To the west lay
nothing but the vast expanse of Cedarlakes National Woodlands.
   Dan stood for a moment in the doorway with his leashed beaten
slave-bitch at his side, breathing in the fresh morning air then he pulled
her across the un-kempt, weed-ridden grass to a post in a corner of the
yard on which a wooden pillary had been mounted.  It was one of those
devices from medieval times constructed to trap the head and wrists of the
victim and hold him or her for public humiliation or perhaps a whipping in
the town square.
   He'd made it himself working from a picture he'd found on the internet.
   He drew her up on her feet, opened the pillory and pulled her head down
so that her neck slid into the concave depression in the wood.  She had to
go up on her toes to fit into the device.
   "Put your hands on it," he ordered and she obeyed wordlessly.
   He removed her collar with the leash, dropped it in the grass by her
feet, and closed and locked the pillory then he took a garden hose with a
pressure nozzle and he trained a freezing spray of water on the trapped
college girl.
   She squealed and whined as he hosed down her welted back and asscheeks
and her kicking legs then she sputtered as he shot the water into her face
and head.
   He moved up behind her and ordered her to spread her legs.
   As he trained the harsh spray on her swollen punished pussymeat and
asshole from behind she tried to squeeze her thighs together.
   "Keep those legs wide, slut!"
   She obeyed with difficulty, her hands trapped in the pillory opening and
closing, her head swiveling helplessly.
   "I want you nice and clean..."
   He stepped up close behind her and thrust the hose-nozzle right into her
cooze pressing the trigger to keep the spray as focused as possible, the
forced water-flow now jetting into the depths of her violated womb as she
cried out and struggled against the unyielding wooden pillory, her toes
gripping the wet grass.
   Then he came around and shot the water into her face ordering her to
open her mouth so that he could flood it with the stinging coldness, making
her gag, blinding her as he sprayed her eyes and hair.
   The image flickered through her mind of him hosing the remains of Donna
off the Petersen carport wall and the driveway where Larissa lay gutted...
and then suddenly he had shut off the water and disappeared back into the
farmhouse.
   She was in the pillory out in the hot morning sun for quite a while
before he returned.  By then her skin was dry but not her long black hair
which clung to her face and shoulders.  She looked up to see him emerge
from the house wearing thick leather gloves, carrying an enema bag with
hose and plastic nozzle and two black plastic plugs.  Instantly, she began
to whimper.
   He went around behind her to hang the enema bag, which seemed to be
filled to its limit, from the branch of a small tree that hung over the
fence above her.
   Then spreading her asscheeks open he pushed the plastic hose-nozzle up
into her tight little asshole.
   She heard a metallic click which she knew was the device that allowed
the fluid from the enema bag into the hose, then a flowing fiery heat
invaded her innards.
   He was standing in front of her now, looking into her eyes, gloating,
jerking off slowly.
   "Hot oil, cunt," he said softly as she stared up at him, mouth wide,
lost in the horrible sensation that engulfed her, going up on her toes
stiffly, not even able to breathe.
   "Hot enought to fry meat..."
   Then the scream came, a mindless wailing coloratura shriek that scared
the birds out of the trees all around the farmhouse....and a second
shriek...and a third...as Dan laughed, licked his lips and masturbated
watching the horrible suffering of his young dark-haired female captive.
   When the enema bag was empty he pulled out the nozzle and shoved one of
the rubber plugs into her asshole.  Then he went back into the farmhouse to
re-fill the bag with the contents of the pot that simmered on the electric
hot-plate in the kitchen leaving Kathie writhing and screaming in the yard.
   He came back with another full bag of fire-hot oil which he emptied into
her intestines plugging her up again.
   As the morning went on he hosed four full bags into her churning guts
and two into her womb plugging her up each time, pausing to watch her
squirm and almost pass out, watching her scream her lungs out and beg him
to stop.
   When he did eventually stop her belly was beautifully distended with the
thick hot fluid.  It seemed like the girl had become nine-months pregnant
in less than two hours.  Kathie was on the edge of consciousness, her
innards seemed to be on fire and ready to burst, as if she had swallowed
burning coals whole.
   Working quickly, Dan took a stretch of rope, opened the pillory and
looped her neck in a knotted noose as she leaned weakly against the post.
Then he tossed the end of the rope up and over the branch from which he'd
suspended the enema bag and pulled the young bitch up almost off her feet
to choke on the strangle-cord.  He immediately handcuffed her wrists behind
her so that she hung with her over-sized belly and her big tits jutting
forward, in Dan's mind, just begging for it...beautiful tortured whore just
begging for a good fuckin' beating.
   And by God, he was gonna give it to her.
   From the rack in the torture room inside the house he got the
multi-tongued lash, the one with thumb-tacks on the end of each leather
cord, the one he'd used long ago on Anna Wilkins.
   The hot noon-time sun shone in the clear sky as he walked over to where
Kathie hung, her feet barely touching the grassblades as she spun slowly
around, her luscious body all sweaty still bearing the vicious marks of
yesterday's bull-whipping, some of which stretched across her bloated
belly.
   He stood before her, the lash dangling from his black-gloved hand.
   "Tell me what you are," he ordered.
   She gasped for air, sweatbeads on her forehead, trickling into her eyes,
the sun blinding her, as hot as the heat inside her which was melting her,
eating away at her like a slow flame.
   At first she could not even think, then the voice on the tape, the voice
which had poured into her ears all night long and finally filled her head
with its inescapable logic, made itself known.
   "Aghhh -" she choked.  "Ah-g I am n-nothing...gg..no-no one...w-wuhh...
worthless...p-piece of shit,wh-whore...."
   "Good girl," Dan said and raised his weapon.  "You learned your little
lesson last night....now here's your fucking reward..."
   He slashed the barbed leather tongues hard across Kathie's swollen
belly. As she gave out a choked-off cry, one leg kicking up, bent at the
knee, the rope tightened cruelly around her neck.
   "Yeahh!" Dan shouted and began to whip Kathie's abdomen fiercely making
the tacks pierce into her skin so that he had to yank the lash back to rip
them out.  She would try to keep her feet on the ground but the sharp bites
of the lash made her kick and lunge involuntarily.  With each shift of her
weight the rope noose tightened until she was flushed, mouth wide and
gasping, her head slightly tilted as she pirouetted to Dan's whipping. 
Blood was trickling from the small circular wounds the tacks left in her
tender belly-flesh and tiny rivulets ran down her whipped thighs all the
way to her knees and shins.
   Dan whipped harder and harder with one aim in mind.
   "I'm gonna whip you til you blow those plugs out, whore!" he shouted at
her.
   He circled her in one direction as she rotated in the opposite one, her
cuffed hands like tiny wings fluttering behind her as her arms jerked in
response to each whipcut, her shoulders rising and falling, her big tits
bouncing.  She pleaded with her eyes looking for his mercy finding only her
black-gloved tormentor's hard cold stare, his sneering grimace of pleasure.
Desperately she tried to push the plugs out of her ass and cunt as the
whip-slashes drove the tacks deep into her stomach, sometimes leaving
gash-cuts as Dan ripped the lash out of her.  She tried to concentrate her
energy on the invasive stoppers that kept the hot oil inside her.  It
seemed that Dan's blows would tear her skin off her and explode her
bursting belly and with each turn the noose around her throat cut off more
air and blood from her head until she was dizzy and drooling, her tongue
lolling, her feet slipping on the wet grass.
   Now, Dan whipped her with all his might, the multi-tongued lash
whistling sharply to deliver devastating damage, driving tacks to the hilt
in the young slut.
   "G-ghhhhhhrrrrggggg!" she keened, teeth clenched suddenly.
   The plug in her pussy shot out of her explosively and hot oil sprayed
down her thighs.
   Dan kept whipping and whipping and whipping.
   "GGAAAGGHHHHRRRGHHH!!" she keened, and finally the rubber plug in her
ass loosened and popped out.  A gush of oil, shit and blood poured out of
the young college-girl and Dan dropped the whip and unsheathed his knife to
cut her off the choke-rope.
   As she sank to her knees, hands still cuffed behind her, he reached down
for the collar and leash which he'd left on the ground by the pillory post.
He drew it quickly around her neck and buckled it tight then without giving
her a moment to recuperate from her horrible ordeal he un-cuffed her wrists
and tugged on the leash to make her crawl after him back into the house.
   He pulled her into his air-conditioned bedroom, closed the door behind
him and ordered her up on the old four-poster bed, to lie on his filthy
mattress.
   Once she was on her back he cuffed her wrists to straps that dangled
from the headboard posts buckling the leather bands tightly.  Then he went
to the drawer of the old dresser.
   She raised her head off the bed weakly to see what he was doing and saw
him standing over her, the sunlight coming in through the open slats in an
old venetian blind that hung lopsided on the dirty window making a pattern
of converging lines across his powerful chest as he strapped a huge black
dildo with steel barbs to his cock and buckled its support strap around his
waist.
   "Now ole Dan's gonna have some fun, girl," he said climbing on to the
bed and prying her legs open.
   "...oh Godd," she moaned.  "Oh Jesus pleeease no....no...."
   The black rubber dildo pointed straight up sheathed on Dan's erect cock
as he took the college girl's punctured bleeding thighs in his
leather-gloved hands and pushed them back and apart to open the swollen,
scalded slit of her shaved pussy still leaking oil on to the filthy
mattress.  She saw the barbs catch a gleam of the sunlight as he crouched
over her.
   "Ohh yeahh, girl," he growled, his voice thick with lust.  "Ole Dan's
gonna have his fun..."
   "...no..." she moaned as he put the huge black weapon right to her
oil-burned slit-mouth.
   "...no, no, n-n-AAGGHHHH!"
   Her head arched backward, her body tense, her eyes squeezed shut as he
pushed the dildo up into her, sliding to hilt in her, filling her, sliding
down to kneel on the bed and beginning to fuck her with mighty thrusts of
his hips.  He grabbed her big tits, his black gloves digging into the
tender tit-meat and he fucked the little bitch hard, tearing the barbs in
and out of her tender cuntflesh until it bled, looking down at the
pistoning black dildo as it entered and exited, enjoying her screaming
suffering as he closed his eyes and fucked her.  Fucked her and fucked her.
Blood- fucked her.
   Dan had been fantasizing about this moment since he'd seen the young
college sophomore walking past him that long-ago day on the street.  And
now the moment had arrived and he was living it gloriously, slamming the
barbed dildo into her oil-scalded pussy, ramming it deep and making her sob
and plead and shake her head while he squeezed her boobs in his strong
fingers.  He fucked her like that for almost a quarter of an hour then he
slid out of her pussy, pushed back harder on her thighs and put the black
barbed cock to her asshole.  Mercilessly he pierced into his shrieking
captive, sinking to the hilt in her rectum, splitting her anus wide open as
blood and oil bubbled up out of her.  He fucked her little ass for all it
was worth smashing her into the old mattress making the whole bed creak and
pound against the wall.  This could be called by no other name than rape,
violent, undeserved, unrepressed, bestial rape, the kind that Dan most
enjoyed, the kind that made his heart race and his pulse pound in his
temples, the kind that made him salivate, his pupils dilated as if on a
heroin high.
   This was so much more intense than the rape in the Petersen house...that
had been a mere foreshadowing, a mere prelude to this savagery.
   This was PAYBACK.
   As he pounded the barbed dildo into poor Kathie's bleeding asshole he
slid down on top of her, giving her his full weight, seizing her head by
her hair to whisper in her ear, her delicate little ear with the four tiny
rings pierced through the pink lobe.
   "You couldn't save your friends, could you pig?  No.  No.  You couldn't.
Uhhh...How could you save them?  How could you when it was because of you
that they had to die..."
   Kathie's eyes went very wide and she sobbed as the killer slammed
himself into her tearing her all up inside.
   "Yeahh...you heard me pig...Larissa and Donna died because of you.  It
was you I wanted all along....uhhh...only you, whore....they just happened
to be in the wrong fucking place...uhhh...at the wrong..ugh...fuckin'
time..."
   He pulled her face to his to smear his lips on his then twisted it away
to talk into her ear again.
   "You don't even remember seeing me before, do you?"
   He pounded deep into her tight rectal tract.
   "DO YOU?"
   "..AAHH-Gggghh...n-no...no, Master..."
   How long had the Master been stalking her?  Had his eyes raped her as
she'd moved about obliviously in some public place?  She thought of him
hungering for her pain and her blood, scheming, learning all he could about
her before making his move.  And as he rammed the barbed dildo into her
guts she suddenly realized that the voice on the tape, the voice she'd been
listening to all night as she'd hung in his torture room, was his
voice...the same voice, an invading darkness that washed away her ability
to think, that took over her and conquered her.
   "Fuckin' little tramp...with your good grades and your smarmy sweet
little goody-two-shoes crap...uhhh...Its slimy cunts that you that ruin
everything...ahh.. take over everything...keeping men on a string...playing
with them...bitch!"
   He was scowling now, twisting her head back by the hair so that he could
look right into her eyes while he pounded the barbed dildo into her
insides.
   "Well Dan's putting and end to that for good.  You won't be painting or
drawing or designing anything ever again...uhhh...goddamn sluttt....and you
won't be showing those big juicy tits to anybody...will you?  WILL YOU,
PIG?"
   "...aa-AGGH!  No!  No, Master...ahghh...never...n-nuhh...never...I'm
y-yours now...owwhhh...y-yours....I...ahh...I will die...ughhh...die for
you, Master...its...its what...uhhh...I d-deserve...d-die...die for you..."
   Going back up on his haunches, a wicked slitted-eye smile on his face,
Dan slid the dildo up out of her asshole and back deep into her cunt
slowly, taking his time to sink it in and hilt it, making his college-girl
slaughter-slut scream with newfound pain.
   He went on fucking her for most of the afternoon, giving her no respite,
slapping her face hard when she fainted to bring her around, sometimes
choking her with his gloved hands, sometimes punching her bloody legs and
belly while he fucked her.  He sat on her face and rubbed his asshole down
into her face, made her lick his balls while he slapped and punched her
boobs, then slid down to thrust the killing dildo into her bleeding vagina
until the mattress was stained with fresh blood...Kelli Ann's blood was
only a dark smear now...Kathie's was fresh warm and red and the bedroom
smelled of it...Then he would pull out and slam the barbed weapon strapped
to his cock back up into her ass, tearing fresh pleading screams out of her
every time he switched holes.  He raped the strong young girl well past
exhaustion, well beyond all sane limits, keeping up a constant flow of
devastating verbal humiliation.  Then as the sun began to cast long fading
shadows in the bedroom he climbed up on top of her, his knees on her
shoulders, to sit on her chest and squeeze her nostrils closed...when she
gasped for air he thrust the black blood- and-shit-covered dildo into her
mouth and slammed his hips forward to fuck her throat...She gave out shrill
muffled shrieks, gagged by the dildo, wide-eyed as the barbs tore the roof
of her mouth and tongue and slid down her spit-foaming throat, killing
dildo hilted in the college-girl's pretty face, Dan's crotch right up
against her nose.  He fucked her mouth and throat just as he'd fucked her
ass- and cunt-holes, his leather-gloved hand gripping the bed's headboard
the other, clutching his young slut's head by her smooth black mane...then,
as night came he rid himself of the dildo and the gloves and fucked the
bitch with his hard bare prick, beat her and slapped her with his bare
hands and fists, thrusting and pounding into her, filling her cut-up cunt
and ass and mouth, switching around and giving her plenty of action in each
violated opening, often holding back at the demanding edge of orgasm,
managing to stay ahead of the overwhelming pleasure of release, managing
too to keep from strangling the little bitch to death, a temptation that
nearly won out several times during the long afternoon and evening of rape.
   Finally, his cock engorged, hard and red, he stepped off the bed.
   He was pretty sure now that Kathie would not live to see morning.
   6.
   Kathie, sweet young Kathie, former sophomore art student, knelt on the
table in the torture room.
   Her calves were pressed up against her thighs, the heels of her feet up
against her whip-torn asscheeks, ankles roped tightly to welted upper
thighs, hands roped behind her, so that only her knees came in contact with
the table top as she hung by the chain.
   Dan had driven small steel hooks right through her nipples then he'd
ordered her to open her mouth and stick out her tongue and he'd pierced
another metal hook through the pink mouth-muscle.  All three hooks were
then linked by a small strand of wire and then connected to a meat-hook on
the pulley-line that led to the chain so that her tongue and nipples were
pulled upward together toward the ceiling.
   The young bitch made gagging, gurgling sounds as her drool dripped off
her chin, her eyes forced to stare upward at the dilapitated ceiling above
her.  Her hands and feet twitched as she tried to balance on her knees
knowing that if she were to fall her tongue and nipples would be ripped
right out of her.
   One end of the wire that linked the three hooks hung down into a candle-
flame on top of the torture table.  The heat of the flame would soon make
its way up the wire, into the hooks and finally into Kathie's pierced
flesh.
   The perfection of Kathie's torment, her taut and severe bondage, pleased
Dan the Knife Man who sat in the old easy chair stroking himself slowly,
watching his victim suffer.
   Her body was a mess of welts, cuts, pierce-wounds and bruises now. 
Blood trickled from her violated ass and cunt down the insides of her
thighs to pool around her knees.
   Before bringing her back into the torture room her killer had leashed
her, yanked her off the bed where he'd viciously raped her for hours and
led her into the kitchen to the dog-bowls on the floor.  Eat, pig,' he'd
snarled, and she'd tried to force down the cold tasteless gray oatmeal he'd
poured for her from the old pot that had been sitting on the stove, trying
desperately to obey the Master as he stood over her but in the end her
burned out guts rejected the attempt and she threw up all over the floor.
So he'd dragged her outside angrily and hosed her down again with the
freezing spray from the garden hose, the sky already dark overhead, the
crickets and tree-frogs filling the night with their racket.  When he
finished she watched him go back inside the kitchen with the hose to clean
up her vomit.  He'd left her handcuffed and leashed in the farmhouse yard
and she watched the light ebbing from the sky in dark purple and reddish
hues.  Her body was a mass of pain inside and out.  She had been thoroughly
violated and even the instinct to escape, to get up on her feet and find a
gate in the wooden fence, was gone.  She stood shivering in the grass
waiting for him to return, waiting for what she now knew was ultimately
irreversible, knowing that even if she could survive beyond this night it
would not be for very much longer.  She was his now.  His forever.
   And now in the torture room, kneeling on the wooden table where Kelli
Ann Wallford had succumbed nearly a year before, Kathie felt the searing
heat of the flame enter her pierced nipples and a few seconds later her
tongue and she began to cry.
   "Mmmmm," Dan groaned softly, masturbating, enjoying his captive's
anguish, watching the effect of the slow heat on her quivering flesh.  He
enjoyed seeing a girl cry.  It made his cock stone-hard.
   "Suffer, sweetie...yeahh...suffer for your Master."
   As the heat grew to unbearable limits and she began to tremble visibly,
Dan rose slowly and approached the table.  He reached into the box of .18
gauge hypodermic needles he'd brought out earlier and taking one he held
the steel tip in the candle flame for a few moments until a wisp of smoke
trailed up from it.  Then he brought it up to Kathie's left tit and pushed
it into the side of the stretched globe watching her react.  She gave out a
whimper and tried to look down but the hook in her tongue prevented her
from moving her head.
   He took another needle, heated it up and inserted it slowly, deeply into
her other breast.
   Taking his time Dan tortured his hapless girl-toy with needle after
needle, putting twenty in each big tit, pushing the tiny hot steel spears
deep into mammary meat.  The hooks in her nipples and tongue were almost
glowing now and she was quivering and sobbing and making odd sounds in her
throat.
   He put his hand on her shoulder.
   "Calm down, bitch...do you hear me?"
   She nodded almost imperceptibly.
   "Calm down.  We have a long way to go..."
   Obediently she brought herself under control, trembling just a bit less,
still crying, but now quiet, a tiny drop of blood oozing from her tongue,
on to her lip, and down to spatter her thigh.
   Dan continued to put more needles in her tits, now piercing into the
auroleae and at the base of the hooked nipples and after nearly thirty more
Kathie had begun to sob softly again.  Heedless, Dan continued heating up
needles and piercing them into his slave.  He put some in her pussy lips
making her jerk around so that the chain that held her hooked nipples and
tongue rattled against its hook in the ceiling.  He put ten in each of her
thighs and then spreading her swollen pussy lips open he touched the tip of
a hot needle to her hooded clit. She quaked and bounced slightly making
little anxious cries in her throat, eyes very wide, brows arched, drooling,
knowing what was coming as he grimaced and pushed the needle to the hilt
into her, stabbing clear through her clitoris and into muscle flesh
beneath.
   "AA-Auuwwwhhrgghhh!" she screamed almost losing her balance on the table
feeling the yanking hold of the hooks in her tits and tongue.
   "Yeahh, pig...yeahh..." Dan growled lifting another needle to the flame.
   He went around behind her and taking her hip to steady her he drove the
hot hypodermic shaft down underneath the nail of her pretty painted big
toe.
   "Nggagggghh!"
   He came around to heat up another one and stab it into her belly button.
   And again behind her to put another one in the toe of the other foot.
   He put needles into each of her toe-nails, some in the arch of her feet,
some in her ankles.  He put some in her cheeks, a couple in her upper arms
and shoulders.  Then finally he was out of needles and the box was empty.
   Now he came around in front of her.
   Climbing up on the edge of the easy chair he reached up to where the
chain was connected to the hook in the ceiling.  He unhooked it and pulled
it upward bringing Kathie higher, re-connecting the chain on a link further
down so that the young college-girl now strained in agony against the
upward pull of the hooks, her tits hauled obscenely upward, her tongue
nearly all the way out of her head, she looking up at her Master as he
smiled down on her.
   He stepped down and began to pull all the hypodermic needles out of the
front of her body and face.  Each small wound bled and soon her sweaty skin
was covered with tiny blood-trickles that ran down her cheeks, down her
ribs and belly and legs to the table's surface.
   He pulled the candle away from the wire and from the rack on the wall of
the room he took the dogwhip.  It was not a common dogwhip.  Like most of
his other weapons he had customized it.  Each of the twelve tongues was
capped with a tiny lead spike.
   Jerking off with his left hand and taking the dogwhip in his right he
began to whip Kathie's hooked, up-stretched, needle-pierced boobs, taking a
swat at each lovely tit-globe to inflict hurt and damage then waiting,
watching her, stroking himself....swatting again and pausing...taking
almost three minutes between cuts...making each one count...making the
torture last.  He struck harder and harder, speeding up slightly, enjoying
the way the tiny spikes tore cuts on the college-girl's tit-meat.  She
tried to look down at him, her eyes begging, but the hook tore at her
tongue and she babbled and tears streamed down her face.  He swung the
spiked dogwhip across both tits, across her welted belly and thighs,
harder, always harder and more viciously jerking himself off faster as her
skin tore off and her blood spattered him.  Then he went around behind her,
yanked the needles from her toes and as the blood spurted from the tiny
wounds he brought the dogwhip down savagely on the tender soles of her
feet.
   "Y-Ygghhhh!" Kathie sob-gasped.  "Owwwhhh!  GGhhawhhhh!"
   He flogged her pretty little limbs repeatedly, stopped for a moment, and
flogged again savagely, furiously...stopped...began again...stopped.
   Kathie was shuddering, shaking, blood trailed down her legs and from her
savaged tits.
   "...can't get enough..." he growled and flogged her feet again, moved to
her shoulders, then her ankles until the spikes had carved out jagged
bloodwounds on the screaming girl all over, randomly.
   He climbed up on the chair's edge again and reached up to the chain.
   This time he lifted Kathie completely off the table so that she hung by
her big bleeding stretched tits and tongue, hung for him, a piece of female
meat.
   He dropped the dogwhip as he stepped down. "Whore!" he snarled in
sadistic fury taking the wooden club from the wall- rack.  A deep primal
instinct surged in him impossible to control.
   "Goddamn, piece-of-shit, SCUMBAG!"
   And he swung the club across the hanging female.
   The heavy polished wood smacked into the side of her strong thighs with
a dull thud and she screamed.
   "Filthy CUNT!"
   He swung the weapon from the opposite direction so it struck her from
the left.
   In the small room the sound the club made when it swung through the air
and landed on girlmeat was impressive.
   Kathie wailed then choked puking out blood and bits of oatmeal.
   She rotated on the chain, the hooks nearly ripping out of her nipples,
blood spurting from her tongue.
   He swung the club across the shins of her up-bent legs.
   Both leg-bones snapped audibly and as she jerked in response to the
terrible pain one nipple was torn free.
   He smashed the club across her shoulder, breaking her upper arm and the
hook ripped through the remaining nipple.  For a brief moment she hung by
her tongue.
   He swung the club with all his might into her belly.
   It landed with a sick wet smack and immediately as she shrieked her
tongue tore with a wet rending sound, split apart by the sharp metal hook,
and the bitch fell forward, collapsing on to the table, legs still bound to
thighs, arms behind her, her ribs breaking on impact.
   Dan dropped the club, unsheathed his knife and moved toward the table.
   He cut the ropes that held Kathie in bondage and her broken limbs sprang
free.  She lay on her belly on the torture table, face down, groaning,
looking up weakly to see her killer aim the camera at her.
   Her head slumped down again, blood pouring from her lips, as she heard
the flash of the bulb go off repeatedly then he was turning her over on her
back and a thousand points of agony came to life all over her.
   Above her she could see the ceiling of the torture room, the chipped
paint, the chain on which she'd been hanging, the hooks with her tongue and
nipples stuck on them like bloody morsels.
   She realized she would soon die.  This was the last day of her life.
   Two more flashes of the camera and Dan was standing over his victim with
his hunting knife sharp and gleaming, his cock big and hard for the kill.
   He had hoped to get five or six days from the big-titted college girl
but it was now clear that his estimate, based on the time he'd taken with
Kelli Ann, had been far too optimistic.  The clubbing had nearly finished
Kathie and she lay broken and bleeding for him.  Even if he did nothing she
would die within an hour.  Something in this young cunt had triggered a
deeper well of violence inside him, deeper and more demanding than any
previous victim.  Perhaps it was the fact that she came at the end of a
delicious trio, Larissa and Donna having already driven his sadistic kill-
lust beyond any hope of control.  Donna especially had brought him to a
fever pitch when she'd lost her sanity and sense of self, making him
completely aware of the fact that he had raped and tortured not just that
rich young cunt's sweet flesh but her mind and her soul as well.
   He climbed up on the strong pine-wood table, pulled Kathie's broken legs
apart and knelt between them as she moaned feebly.
   The sudden vivid memory of Donna dipping her face into Larissa's gutted
body filled Dan with demented sexual energy.  He had seen something few
humans ever dreamed about, much less participated in.  And now a new
mind-shattering experience lay immediately ahead.
   He leaned down and kissed Kathie's bleeding lips, the rusty taste making
his head spin.  He moaned and licked into her open mouth and traced the
jagged edges of her torn tongue with his and he pressed himself down into
her shattered rib-cage.
   She gasped for air and coughed up bloody spit.
   The little slut was his.
   He looked down into her dark eyes.
   "Hold on for me..." he told her.  "Can you hear me, pig?"
   She nodded weakly.
   "I want you to hold on for as long as you can...live for me as long as
you can...understand?"
   He rose off her and raised his knife.
   She saw it and knew it was the same one he'd used on Larissa.
   "Hold on for me and give me pleasure, scumbag..." he said softly.
   "You're mine, now...mine..."
   "...y-youhrzz..." she groaned.  "...a-ahm...y-youhrz..."
   Blood spilled from her lips.
   "That's right," he whispered.
   He brought the blade to her bleeding mutilated tit.
   "That's right...."
   Slowly and carefully he began to slice her big pap from her chest.
   He cut a gash deep into tit-meat then began a slow circular sawing
motion, de-breasting the young college girl as she sobbed and whined on the
table.
   She brought her arms up weakly.
   "Keep your hands at your sides, pig," he ordered.  "On the table."
   She obeyed instantly.
   He sliced slowly, slowly, hurting her, looking into her eyes as he
finally lifted the half pound of pierced welted tit-meat from her and
dropped it to the floor.
   Concentrating completely on his task he began to work on her remaining
boob.  He licked and nibbled at the nipple-less tip, sucking blood into his
mouth.
   He pushed the tip of his knife into the meat-bag wounding her repeatedly
until her arms began to rise protectively.
   "On the table, cunt," he snarled.
   Again, obedience.
   This was what he had planned for Kathie's big tits all along, he
thought, smiling as he began the slow circular sawing through gland and
muscle.  This, and what would follow later...  Blood spurted on his hands.
His college girl was sobbing, her head moving from side to side.  This was
the punishment he most enjoyed...the mutilation of the female body...the
total destruction of its beauty.  And by this time, they always gave
in...gave up...gave him what he wanted...surrendered to him.  They let
themselves be butchered because deep down they knew that this was their
best and most real purpose as females...to serve the hungry male with their
suffering and blood.  To please Him.
   He had killed her best friends, butchered them both in front of her and
she had never even struggled against him in any way.
   From the beginning Kathie Daniels had been his for the taking.
   Because Dan the Knife Man knew that deep down all young women were
nothing but slaughter-whores.  The prettier and sexier they were, the more
they needed to die, to please the savage manly greed for female suffering.
And Kathie, so far, had been one of the best kills he'd ever had.
   He completed the circular cut, lifted her fat breast up in his hand and
showed it to her.
   "When you're dead I will eat them," he said and dropped the tit to the
floor beside the other one.  It landed with a splat.
   Her eyes were going out of focus.
   Her blood puddled around his knees.
   "Ready?" he asked.
   She nodded slowly as he leaned over her, one hand on the table above her
head.  He put the knife to her throat.
   He pushed the tip, only the sharp tip into the pulsing jugular, fucking
the arterial vessel with his weapon.  He pulled the knife out and the small
wound spurted hot bloodjets up into his chest and face.
   "Yeahh..." he moaned, putting his cock up to her swollen bleeding pussy
slit, pushing up into her as he raised the knife high and slammed the
blade-tip down into the middle of her chest.
   She gave out a sharp keening howl then and almost rose off the table.
   He pushed her back down with his free hand on her shoulder.
   "Easy," he said.  "Don't fight it..."
   Again her head moved from side to side, her arms now holding the table,
her nails scratching into the wooden surface.
   He fucked her with slow pumping motions of his hips as he drew the sharp
knife downward opening her up.
   "...aahhrgghhh..." she grunted.  "...kill me...kill me...kill me..."
   "Whore," he snarled.  "Pig.  Slut.  Scumbag."
   He cut her belly open and her legs twitched and kicked, her neck and
back arched.
   "Die for me, pig.  Die."
   Then he thought of all the sluts out in the world, all the young pretty
females waiting for his knife...all the little bitches he would kill and
cut open just like this...that right now had no clue.  Just as Kathie had
had no clue.  Going about their ordinary lives.  Looking for men who would
fawn all over them and give them what they asked for in return for nothing
but a look or a smile.
   He cut her stomach open all the way down to the bottom and her blood
flowed and pulsed around his pumping cock-shaft.
   He was ending her life now, ripping apart a womb that would have
probably carried new life, ending all hopes and aspirations, destroying the
living fabric of society, and he was enjoying every last fucking minute of
it.
   He put the knife down and reached into her to find her uterus and her
fallopian tubes, feeling around inside her, finding and feeling the
hardness of his prick as it entered deep into her then getting his hands
around her innards to yank them out of her slowly, making her scream and
shudder, tearing her life out of her one piece at a time as she sobbed, her
cries weaker and weaker.
   She gasped and then trembled her eyes going glassy as she looked up at
the hanging light-bulb.
   He slid out of her, got off the table and picked up the camera.
   He moved all around the dying, gutted bitch on the torture table taking
pictures from every angle, the flash snapping over and over.
   Then he picked up the axe.
   "...ahgh..." she groaned.
   He couldn't believe she was still alive.
   "Good girl," he snarled lifting the sharp-blade high above his head.
   "Hold on for me...give me pleasure, whore..."
   The axe came down with a brutal thud.
   He sliced her pretty foot off her leg.
   She turned her face to look up at him.
   He cut the leg from the thigh.
   "Yeahh!" he shouted raising the ax.
   Her mouth was wide and bleeding, moving as if to form words.
   He struck again burying the axe in her thigh.
   "Feel it, pig!  FEEL IT!"
   He pulled the ax free and took aim.
   Her hands still clung weakly to the table.
   "You're mine." he snarled.
   "MINE."
   ...  and he brought the axe down on her long slender neck.
   Kathie's head sprung free of her body and rolled off the torture table
to fall to the floor between her amputated tits.  Her headless body
twitched, arms rising as if to embrace the air, broken legs kicking out and
it swung over on its side, spilling guts and shit and piss to finally lie
still, the arms collapsing.
   Dan dropped the axe and bent down to pick up the dead girl's head by the
hair.
   He held it so that her face was level with his cock as he jerked off and
with a fierce ape-like grunt he finally came, emptying his balls on the
bloody face of the murdered college-girl, rubbing the spurting crown of his
prick against her swollen lips and half-open unseeing eyes.
   Dropping the decapitated head to the floor at his feet he gave out a
long triumphant shout and sank back into the easy chair exhausted.
   Afterwards he would step out into the cool dawn to hose the female's
blood and guts off his body before going back into the bedroom to sleep,
deeply and dreamlessly.  The next day, in the afternoon, he would rise and
clean up the mess in the torture room.  He would drive out to the end of
the road where the large oak stood and bury Kathie's remains (save for her
mutilated breasts) near her two friends.  That night he would fry Kathie's
twin mounds of pink girl-flesh he'd kept in the refrigerator on the hissing
skillet with onions and white wine and, just as he'd promised his dying
victim, for the first time in his life, he would feast on female slaughter
meat.
   Some time later he would pack everything of consequence up in the
Cherokee and set the farmhouse on fire.  He would start up the truck and
move toward state highway 143.
   By the time smoke was seen in the distance he would be miles away, on
the Interstate.
   By the time the fire was out he would be out of Florida, the taste of
his kill still on his lips.
   A month later the posters of Larissa Petersen, Donna Riley and Kathie
Daniels would be posted on the wall of the Cedarville movieplex in the
mall.
   WOODBURN