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.
   Connected
   We sat facing each other across the weather-worn picnic table at the
highway rest area looking like a couple of hunting buddies on a
beer-and-deer weekend, Eric257 in dark blue flannel shirt and jeans, me in
a gray windbreaker and black denim slacks, a baseball cap pulled low over
my eyes.
   If he'd been less careful about his appearance Eric would certainly seem
like a dangerous drifter, someone the cops might pull over on the road just
to check him out.
   As per our agreement, which we'd worked out through brief email messages
over the past couple of months neither one of us knew the other's name.  He
was Eric257 I was Randy.  Neither one of us knew where the other lived. 
Not even the regional vicinity.
   The agreement was that I would provide the the toy', as we referred to
it in case anyone happened to hack into our messages, and the
transportation and that he would provide the place.  We would meet here, at
this rest stop, on this Interstate, me in a commercial vehicle, a Dodge
van, provided by a friend who would not know what use it would be put to,
Eric dropped off for a weekend fishing trip by an acquaintance similarly
misled about the intent of our little get-together.
   "Is the - is she in the van?" he asked.
   "Yeah."
   "Any problems?"
   "Nope.  She's got enough shit in her bloodstream to keep her asleep for
another hour or two."
   I watched him light up a cigarette.
   "Did you find one like we discussed?"
   "Better.  She's only five."
   "Jesus."
   "Jesus what?  Good or bad?"
   "Good, hell.  I know your taste.  I know she's got to be nice.  I'm just
nervous.  I mean - you know - I've never done one that young."
   "But you've thought about it."
   "Shit, yeah.  All the fuckin' time."
   He drew on the cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into the wind.
   I smiled.  He was as obsessed as I was.
   Maybe addicted was a better word.
   "I'm nervous too," I told him.  I took a sip from the coffee I'd gotten
at the vending machine.  "You want to talk about it?"
   "Yeah," he said.  His eyes glimmered slightly.  "I wanna talk about it a
bit before we - you know - it helps work me up and I think - uhm - I think
I'll need to get worked up for this."
   "I know what you mean.  We both need to get worked up for it.  To tell
you the truth I think it will be really nice doing it with another guy - I
mean I've always worked alone - the ones I've done."
   "Rape?"
   "Yeah."
   "Torture."
   "Mm-hmm."
   "No kills though."
   "I got real close once with this bitch from South Jersey."
   I took the envelope from my briefcase and looked around before passing
it to him.
   He took the pictures out huddled over them so that no one passing by
behind him could see.
   "She's the third one there - yeah - that one."
   "Je-sus," he said softly.  "What the fuck did you do to er?  Skin looks
like fuckin' raw hamburger meat."
   "I guess I went a little overboard.  Does it bother you?"
   "Bother me shit.  I wish I'd been there to help you out."
   The predatory gleam in his eyes intensified as he looked up briefly.
   I smiled and sipped on the coffee as he continued to leaf slowly through
the pictures of my victims - before-and-afters of some of my activities in
the last six years - the older ones polaroids the newer ones digital
print-outs.  I watched him for his reaction to the images but Eric's face
betrayed very little beyond the guarded hint I'd already caught.  It was
odd to share this with him.  No one else had ever seen my pictures before.
I felt a bit on the edge about it.  Though I was pretty sure about Eric
because I'd checked him out as much as I could with the limited information
I had, there was still a chance he might be some undercover hound trying to
string me along.  I knew I was on a couple of lists out there.  I just
didn't know which ones and for what reason.
   I knew he probably felt the same way about me.
   "I got some tapes too," I told him.  "In the van.  We can look at those
later if you got a VCR at the place."
   I knew that if he was a cop he would pick this moment to make his move.
   He put the pictures back in the envelope and slid it back across the
picinic table toward me.  Though I didn't show it I felt relieved.  Eric257
was just what he'd told me he was - he was me ten years earlier: a
bloodthirsty male sadist looking for the ultimate kick.
   "There's a VCR there," he said.  "There's also a computer with two
digital cameras.  Just like you wanted." he said pulling a cigarette from
his denim jacket pocket to light up.  I nodded approvingly.  He squinted up
at me through the cigarette smoke as he put his lighter back in his hip
pocket.
   "How come you've never gone the full way?" he asked unexpectedly. "Looks
from those pictures like you've been real damn close."
   "I'm not sure.  That bitch in Jersey wanted me to do her.  But she was
not on the level.  She got another guy that did her but it took the cops
less than a week to track it down.  It was messy.  She left a paper trail
on the computer which took em no time at all to figure out.  Hell the FBI
even came to interview me about it."
   That much at least was true.
   "No shit."
   "I think she was playing some kinda psychological game.  Giving up her
own life to catch a predator.  She was a fuckin' wacko.  Still I enjoyed
beating the shit out of her."
   "I bet you did.  You can tell from the picture."
   "But now I like to keep a real low profile.  I don't want any more
trouble from the feds, know what I'm sayin'?  Jersey was five years ago. 
All the ones after that, the ones you saw in the pictures, were
consentual." I paused for a moment feeling suddenly aroused by what I was
about to reveal to this stranger as the cars and trucks continued to shoot
past on the highway behind me.  "There's only been three - three that
weren't.  All in the last year."
   "Oh?  Underage?"
   "You bet.  That's the ultimate fuckin' thrill."
   The hunger in his eyes was plainly evident now.
   "Yours and mine," he replied.  "You think its something that happens
when you get older or something?  Like the old guys that expose themselves
with kids?"
   "I don't know.  I started getting interested in little girls about six
years ago and looking for sites on the internet.  It didn't take long for
me to get out there and hunt a couple of puppies down.  The last one even
made the news."
   "Where at?"
   "I'd rather not say.  Anyway she made the news.  I didn't.  Local cops
out there are still looking for a guy with a beard."
   "I understand.  Was she nice?"
   "Mmm yeahh.  Nice and tight.  Just right.  Dumb little blonde bunny. 
Maybe twelve."
   He smiled and licked his lips.
   "What did you do with her?"
   "Well - the less you know about it the better.  But I will tell you this
- I made her scream."
   He took a long pull on the cigarette and the tip glowed red and hissed.
   I went on, changing the subject.
   "The way we got our shit organized here, by not knowing each other,
we're gonna be fine.  Nothing tracks back to either one of us."
   "What about -?" he hinted, angling his head back at the black cargo van
I'd left parked by the building that housed the restrooms.  I knew he
didn't mean the vehicle.  He knew how I'd come by that already.
   " - the toy'?" I finished.  "No connection to me.  I stalked her for a
week and picked her out at random from a bunch in the playground of a child
care place near the edge of the city.  I knew that on Fridays her mom
dropped her off at grandma's while she went to do the mall and that grandma
is slightly deaf and falls asleep in the living room couch while baby plays
in the yard."
   "So grandma'll wake up and find baby gone."
   "That's about right.  Way gone.  Like a hundred and seventy five miles
gone."
   "Is that playground near you - near where you live?"
   "Not even close.  Its in another city, another county, another state."
   "So we got the little princess all to ourselves - no strings attached -"
   "That's exactly right.  She's our little slice of heaven."
   "What's she like?  White?"
   I nodded.
   "Her name is Jasmine."
   "How do you know that?"
   "I heard her mother calling her in the playground."
   "Mmm - Jasmine - that's nice."
   "Sweetest little redhead," I added.  "- long red hair down to her ass
almost - with freckles."
   I knew he'd like that.  He'd told me on email that freckled redheads
were one of his turn-ons.  Jasmine's freckles were like a spatter of
cinammon on vanilla ice cream.  The little bitch was positively edible.
   "Jasmine..." he said softly.  "Damn.  You know I've wanted to do this
for such a long time."
   "Well," I said.  "From that artwork I've seen on the internet with your
name on it I know what you'd like to do...  especially with this cute
little bunny."
   "Yeah.  And from those sick stories you write I know you're just the guy
that's can gonna help make it happen."
   "You got that right."
   I grinned and sipped my coffee.  The caffeine was adding to the
adrenalin rush running through me.
   "We're both gonna make it happen," I told him.
   It was late fall and the wind was tearing color from the trees and
scattering it around us.  The monotonous sound of the traffic whizzing by
on the highway, an occasional car or truck pulling in to the rest stop,
faceless people milling about the buildings stopping briefly on their
journeys to relieve themselves or to get something to eat or drink, and
then moving on, was the backdrop for our conversation.  Had any one of
those hundreds of people spinning or strolling by ever heard what we were
discussing they would have been stunned - they would have been repulsed and
horrified.  - two middle aged guys getting themselves psyched up to rape
and slaughter a five year old girl.
   "So we're going all the way with her?" he asked, his eyes straying,
following an eighteen wheeler that thundered past.
   I paused briefly even though I already knew the answer to that - and so
did he.  This was very serious shit we were talking about.  We were talking
about taking another human life - one that was innocent and unspoiled - one
that did not deserve in any way what we were gonna put it through.  Out
here on this highway rest stop things were going on as usual.  But we were
wolves among sheep and we needed to ponder the weight of our actions for a
moment.  Maybe to reassure each other in some way, or cheer each other on.
We knew what we were about to undertake was irreversible and absolute - it
would also be incredibly and unfathomably pleasurable.
   "You know we're gonna go the full fuckin' way, man," I replied.  "But
we're gonna take our time with er.  This ain't gonna be no quick in and
out."
   "What about this place you've got?" I asked him taking a swig of the hot
coffee I'd gotten from the vending machine.
   "Not mine.  I rented it through this dude I know.  But I've been here
before. Its about twenty miles up the road and three miles off it, near
Orchidea.  Bout two miles from this fishing spot called Greely's pond. 
Nearest neighbor is nearly two miles past that.  Its a house with a
basement about four miles out of town up a dirt access road.  My friend's
into hunting and he uses it only when he goes on vacation, about three
times a year.  Right now there's nobody around up there."
   "You sure about that?"
   "Positive.  I was up there last year with him right around this time and
I checked it out thinking about something like this.  Only I didn't have
the nerve to go through with it then."
   "That was before I came along."
   He chuckled.
   "Yeah," he admitted.  "And check this out.  When my friend went out one
day I found out that the basement is soundproof.  Its concrete and there's
no windows.  Its like a goddamn bomb shelter.  You could have a bitch
scream her fool head off in there and someone standing just outside would
never hear shit."
   "Place got running water?" I asked.
   "Running water, AC and heat, satellite TV - all the comforts of home, my
man."
   "Plus the cameras, the computer, and the VCR."
   "Yup."
   "Sounds to me like we're all set."
   "You know it.  We're good to go."
   I'd finished my coffee and he'd taken his last puff on his cigarette.
   "Can I take a peek?" he asked again motioning to the van with his head.
   Now I could clearly see expectation in his eyes.
   "Lets go," I replied rising and tossing the empty cup in the trash bin
by the picnic table.
   He flicked away the cigarette butt and followed me to the parking lot.
   __________________
   "Well, damn," Eric257 whispered.
   We stood inside the cargo van looking down at the little girl I'd
kidnapped two hours earlier.
   Little redheaded Jasmine.
   The van's windows were heavily tinted and there was a dividing barrier
between the rear cargo hold and the front seats so no one could look in on
us.
   Jasmine lay on her side on a dirty blanket, naked, hogtied, her wrists
pulled back and roped to her bound ankles, her little white cotton panties
shoved deep in her mouth and a rope around her head to keep them in place
in case she woke up, her long silky red hair which went down to the middle
of her back spilled over her face and shoulders.  She was a little angel
brought down in flight.
   I'd stripped her naked and tossed her clothes into a paper bag which I'd
dumped in a rest area twenty miles south of this one in a McDonald's trash
bin. The only personal items remaining on the child were two brightly
colorful friendship bands around her left ankle, just below the loops of
rough dirty rope that bit into and indented her creamy skin.
   The bands would make nice souvenirs - one for each of us - afterwards.
   Eric went down on one knee beside her and reached out to caress the
unconscious child's downy red-haired head.
   "She's so pretty," he commented, his voice dreamy, his eyes roving up
and down Jasmine's bound naked body.
   "You like her?"
   "Fuck, yeah."
   It looked to me like he was definitely in the required frame of mind for
what we had both planned.  I could tell from the way he handled the
unconscious child that he was going to be perfect.
   "I did good, didn't I?" I asked rhetorically.
   "More than good, brother.  More than good."
   His hand moved down to her shoulder, then down the front of her body,
down her smooth white belly to her hairless little muff.
   "Je-sus," he said breathlessly.
   Watching the way he touched her was making me hard.  I could see his
jeans bulging at the crotch.  He'd told me he was extremely well endowed.
He hadn't been lying.
   I was no homo but I was looking forward to seeing this brutal man naked
with Jasmine.  There was something about that which was incredibly
exciting. Seeing someone else handle her the way I wanted to handle her -
another man - a mirror of myself - an accomplice in the unspeakable - was
an exquisite experience.
   "Did you rape her?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the child, his hand
moving over her trapped thighs and back to her little sex mound, then again
down her legs to her bound feet, then back up her calves, fingering the
friendship bands and moving back up the thighs.
   "No," I told him, watching the languid movement of his hand on Jasmine,
my cheeks hot and flushed.  "I wanted to save her for both of us - for
later."
   "Nice of you."
   "Yeah - I wanted to save her for you mostly.  I want to watch you break
her."
   He looked up at me, a leering grin on his face.
   "And what are you going to be doing while that's happening?" he asked.
   "Using the cameras," I replied.  "At least for a bit before I join you."
   "Join me?"
   "Yeah.  I want to take her up the ass while you fuck her little cunt."
   His eyes strayed back to our baby victim.
   "Goddamn, Randy - that might just kill her right off the bat."
   "No," I told him.  "I don't think so.  Not if we go easy at first."
   "I do want to hurt her," he said flatly, his face slack, eyes slitted.
   "Me too," I agreed.  "Bad.  Real bad...hurt er til she can't take any
more."
   I wanted to slide down beside him and start the violence right then but
I knew better.  There was a time and place for everything.  It would not
have been right to spoil our plans prematurely.  We'd both worked this
scheme hard, sending each other messages for months over email, ironing out
all the angles, to risk screwing it all up now.  Besides I wanted little
Jasmine awake, wide awake, for us.  I wanted her present and aware.
   "Let's get going," I told him.
   "She smells so nice..."
   He was leaning over Jasmine, bending forward to kiss her lightly on the
cheek, his tongue darting across her forehead.  I watched him kiss her on
the lips just like I'd done earlier that day and I could remember her warm
tentative breath, her pert little mouth.
   Jasmine tasted like dime-store candy.
   "...so fucking pretty..." he muttered and slowly got up.  The child
stirred slightly but did not wake.
   I was glad Eric had stopped because another second of watching him and I
would have had to do something about it.
   We stepped out of the rear of the van.  I closed the doors and double
checked them.  Then we got in the front.
   The rest of the trip we were both quiet except for when he told me which
exit to take and where to turn.  There was an uneasy tension between us now
that would only find one outlet, one helpless little scapegoat - a juicy
bit of baby meat for two starved killer wolves.
   By the time we drove up the dirt trail that led off the main road to the
small house in the woods it was almost noon.
   In the back of the van Jasmine was just starting to come around, the
effect of the drug I'd given her just beginning to wear off.
   Soon she would be wide awake - and Eric and I would be more than ready
for her.
   ___________________
   The basement was a large empty room, thirty feet long, twenty wide,
brightly lit by three overhead fluorescent lamps.  There were, as Eric had
said, no windows. Six bare concrete pillars, the support beams of the
house, interrupted the open space at regular intervals.  At one end of the
room a pair of french doors led to the gas boiler and on the other end a
doorway led into a finished green-tiled bathroom which had a toilet, a
wash-basin and a shower-stall, all of recent vintage.  A stained wood
staircase led up into the house.  The ceiling was low, maybe seven feet
from the floor, and the wooden beams that supported the floor above and the
rest of the split-level home were exposed.  To the left of the french doors
a spigot protruded from a pipe in the wall.  A hose was attached to it.  At
the center of the room there were drainage vents in the floor.  It was
possible that in the rainy season the basement flooded and needed to be
washed down.  Faint water marks at the base of the concrete beams supported
that hypothesis.
   I thought it was a perfect killing place, window-less but well
ventilated, perfect for what Eric257 and I had in mind, and I told him so.
   The two digital cameras were set up on tripods, one at each end of the
room, plugged in to a power strip on the floor and connected via an
interface to the computer and monitor which sat on a small table near the
staircase.  Jasmine's limitless suffering at our hands would make for
excellent viewing pleasure long after our little angel was dead and buried.
   The only furniture was two wooden folding chairs propped up against the
wall near the bathroom and an old butcher-block dining room table that had
been brought down here long ago by the owner of the house when a new table
had replaced it.
   Eric cleared some old paint cans and a toolbox from the table-top and I
lay Jasmine, still rope-bound and gagged on it.
   She'd been awake and wriggling but still dazed when I'd carried her down
the stairs.  Now, as the drug I'd given her lost all of its potency, she
stared up at us with wide-eyed terror.
   She had no clue where she was or what was going on and she was making
sounds in her throat and trying to speak to us but the white panties shoved
in her mouth made whatever she was trying to say pretty much unitelligible.
   "Look at those beautiful eyes," Eric remarked as he slowly stripped off
his shirt.
   Jasmine's eyes were star-bright emeralds full of innocent fear and
confusion and they made my cock throb.  The depth and power of my sadistic
urges often took me by surprise.  Sometimes they seemed to come from
somewhere else - somewhere outside myself, beyond my control and
understanding.  Now, I was stunned anew by the little cunt's beauty.  I'd
been fortunate to find such a perfect victim for us, so flawlessly innocent
and helpless, so deserving of the most foul impulses secretly harbored in
the darkest places inside us.
   "Take the gag off her," Eric said.  "Let's hear her.  I want to hear
her."
   I could sense his depraved need, a mirror-image of my own, in his voice.
   I reached down and untied the rope, pulling the saliva-soaked panties
from the child's mouth to toss them on the floor.
   "Aggh!" she gasped.  "Muhhmma -" Her high-pitched voice rose in volume
and pitch as we stood there just staring at her.  "Mg-mommmiee!  I want my
mommie!"
   "I bet you do," I replied.
   Eric chuckled.
   Her small femininely high-pitched voice was like a caress, an obscenely
arousing one.
   The child began to struggle against the ropes I'd bound her with,
flopping about on the table.  I reached out to grab her by the neck, not
tightly, just to feel the vibrations of her cries.
   "Let me go!" she wailed.  "Let me gooo!"
   "We're not gonna let you go," Eric snarled at her silencing her
momentarily. She continued to tug against the ropes at her wrists and
ankles but less energetically making short breathless vocalizations in
response to the restrictive grip of the tight cords around her limbs.  The
colorful friendship bracelets had slipped down her leg, halfway down the
slender calve.
   Her eyes moved from him to me.
   "He's right, Jasmine," I told her.  "We're not."
   She was startled by the sound of her name.  I stared at her as I
released her neck and unbuckled my belt.
   "You shouldn't have taken that lollipop I gave you.  Remember?  Didn't
your momma ever tell you not to take candy from a stranger?"
   "F-fell asleep," she moaned, downcast, blushing.
   "Yeah," I said pulling my t-shirt up over my head and tossing it aside,
pulling my pants down, stripping naked in front of her while Eric did the
same.  "You fell asleep alright.  Just like in that stupid fairy tale. 
What's it called?  Sleeping Beauty -"
   "And the prince is here to wake the little princess up," Eric added.
   I turned so see him smiling, huge cock in hand.  His prick must have
been at least ten inches long and as thick as a cop's billy club.  Now I
knew why he was worried we might kill Jasmine just by raping her.  It was
not a far-fetched possibility at all.  Still if that's the way she would
die than so be it.  Maybe she would not give us the pleasure of a long
drawn-out slaughter but she would please us well none the less.
   "Shit.  I guess that makes me the wicked fuckin' witch then," I joked.
   Eric laughed.
   Jasmine looked at Eric's massive cock and began to bawl hopelessly.
   I had to speak louder to be heard:
   "I think we should warm the little bitch up before - before we -"
   "Yeah," he replied.  "I bet you've got something in there we can use?"
   He nodded at the small suitcase I'd brought with me.  It sat where I'd
left it after I'd carried it inside earlier, next to the computer table by
the staircase.
   "Why don't you open it and see.  Pick up whatever you like."
   Jasmine wailed louder as Eric moved to the suitcase, dropped it to the
floor and opened it.
   "Je-sus," he said, appropriately amazed by my toy collection.
   I stepped up to the table Jasmine lay on.
   She had begun to cry screechingly.
   "Shut up, you little bitch," I snarled.
   She wailed louder.
   I grabbed her by her hair and raised her up off the table on to her
knees.
   "Shut the fuck up!"
   She struggled wildly, contorting her body awkwardly, her squeals
deafening in the empty room.
   I slapped her hard across her cute doll-like face turning her head and
she continued to scream, her bare feet paddling noisily against the table
top.  My cock throbbed to the sound of the harsh blow and her reaction to
it.
   I slapped her again harder two more times, murderously harder, stunning
the five year old into submissive stillness, her ears probably ringing from
the explosive impact of my hand across her cheek.
   "YE-ah, dude!" Eric shouted encouragingly.
   He stood there with two short black leather dogwhips, one in each hand,
and as I turned toward him he offered me one.
   "How about these?"
   "Yeah," I replied.  "Those will definitely get us started in the right
direction with this little slut."
   We turned to look at the hogtied baby girl on the table.
   Both of us began to masturbate slowly.  Our heavy breathing created a
counterpoint to her muted whimpers.
   "I think we need to hang the little bitch from the ceiling for it," he
said.  His voice had that same flat quality I'd heard when he'd first seen
Jasmine in the van.
   Eric was a scary guy.
   For somebody who had not done this before he was taking to it real well.
No moral qualms, no hesitation.  He was exceeding my expectations.
   I hadn't told him the truth before, of course.  Why should I?  Jasmine
would not be my first kill.  The twelve year old bunny I'd told him about
had made the papers alright.  She'd been the most brutal murder in Garvey
Township history.  The first such murder in that area of the world.  They'd
found little blonde Stella Richards, in several pieces.  And there had been
three others before her - but I didn't want to spoil it for Eric.  I
thought he would act less inhibitedly if he didn't feel outclassed. 
Although it didn't seem I had much to worry about.  There didn't seem to be
the least bit of inhibition in him.
   "Get some rope.  And bring a knife," I told him.
   He went to my suitcase and came back with a thick coil of rope and the
hunting blade.
   When he handed me the weapon I turned to Jasmine.
   "You see this?" I said showing it to her.  "If you don't stop all that
fucking whining I'm gonna put it up in your little pee-pee!"
   (It was probably going to end up in there regardless, but she didn't
need to know that.)
   "Nooooo!" she bawled.
   "Yess!  Now shut up and quit movin' around."
   I reached out and cut the ropes that held her.  She cried softly, her
shoulders twitching as she sobbed endearingly.
   When she was loose I took her by her arm and drew her off the table. 
She had to jump off awkwardly, her bare feet slapping against the concrete
floor, the friendship bands now low around her ankle.  The cords had left
dark red indentations on her skin.  For me, those marks were incredibly
attractive on a child's limbs.
   As she stood before me I pulled her arms up above her and wound a fresh
stretch of rope around her skinny wrists.  The top of her head was almost
level with my belly and my erect cock brushed her tear-wet cheeks sending a
shiver of pleasure through me.
   I looped the end of the rope through an eyelet hook I'd screwed into the
ceiling beam above earlier and yanked Jasmine up off her feet.
   She twirled and kicked in mid air squealing, her arms drawn upward.
   I stared meanly at her and she squealed with less enthusiasm as she
remembered what I'd told her about the knife.
   She was light as a feather as I pulled her toward the ceiling until her
trapped hands almost bumped up against the beam, then I tied off the rope
and turned to Eric who'd been watching raptly.
   He handed me the short dogwhip and we moved in on Jasmine.
   "Should we tie her legs?" he asked, slowly stroking himself, his voice a
hushed whisper.
   The sight of the little naked freckled redhead suspended by her wrists
and whining pitifully, waiting for the invevitable attack of our whips, was
definitely getting to him as it was getting to me.
   "Nah -" I replied.  My own prick was thick with blood and bluntly stiff.
I reached down to stroke myself matching Eric's slow rythm.  "Let er kick
around. Sometimes its nice when they kick around..."
   We stood with the child between us spinning in mid air and I raised the
dogwhip to slash it hard across her belly.
   She shrieked piercingly and flailed her legs.
   Eric watched her for a moment, letting her complete a full circle, then
he swung hard across her cute round ass leaving ten fire-engine red welt
lines across the child's creamy buttcheeks.
   We began to take turns swatting at our helpless little slaughter-puppet
with the dogwhips, scrawling scarlet streaks on her, letting her kick and
scream and bawl, her pretty red hair flying.  She called out for her momma
and for help, drool and tears rolling down her cheeks and off her chin, a
sheen of sweat on her skin.
   "I like the sounds..." Eric commented.  His eyes were half-shut, his
mouth a thin expressionless line under the blonde mustache.
   "Yeahh," I agreed, swinging the short multi-tongued whip across the
five- year old's upper thighs.  I could have threatened Jasmine with the
knife again or smacked her little face to shut her up but, what the hell,
it was nice to hear her scream.  Real fucking nice.  Eric and I were on the
same page there.  How could we not be?  The sounds of a female child being
mercilessly beaten were unforgettable: the choked off breathy screams, the
rope grinding against the metal loop as she twirled around, the marvelous
hard crack of leather across innocent flesh, her fast paced gasps as she
braced herself for the next vicious blow...  and the knowledge that no one
would hear...that no one would interrupt...that no one would ever even
fucking know.
   Her right leg kicked back and Eric whipped her little foot.
   The dogwhip tongues wrapped around the tiny limb.
   She keened wildly.
   I swung up from below her scoring a searing blow across her baby-slit.
   "YE-ahh!" Eric shouted following my lead and swinging his whip up from
the ground behind her to smack our little redhead angel where it hurt her
the most.
   "Harder," I urged him.  "Let's make this little piglet dance!"
   Our whips whizzed and snapped into little Jasmine, those sounds Eric and
I loved, amplified and reverberant in the concrete basement.
   "You sure you've never done this before?" I asked between cuts.
   He laughed.
   "This is fuckin' great...  I fuckin' love it!"
   Eric handled the dogwhip like he'd been doing it all his life and I
wondered if he'd been telling me the truth.  I supposed it was possible for
him to have an instinctive idea of what to do.  He'd probably been thinking
about it for a long time.  The drawings he'd posted on the internet, the
ones he claimed were his, were pretty graphic and realistic.  I knew it
hadn't taken me very long to figure out how to cut across a female body and
make it hurt.  Hell, maybe it was in every man's subconscious just waiting
for the opportunity to be used.
   We circled our naked prey and punished her unforgivingly and she pled
with us and screamed and sobbed and choked on her own spit and tears and
coughed herself red-faced.  The sight of the dangling child enduring the
brutal scourging would have brought outrage from most people.  The
injustice of it, the cruelty would have nauseated them.  This was after all
the most taboo of offenses, the most heinous of uncivilized crimes.  But
Eric and I were hardcore sadists.  The brutal act nourished and sustained
us, made us feel revitalized, invigorated.  The adrenalin flowed, the
hormones pumped through us just as it must have done through the barbarian
looting armies as they ripped through conquered towns killing, raping and
burning.  We never slowed our pace or hesitated.  We struck hard and
unremmitingly until our five-year-old Jasmine-doll was striped with harsh
red and violet welts all over.
   As we'd agreed to do we began to use the cameras, me shooting while Eric
whipped the helpless child then trading places, both of us exchanging
roles, taking what now rightfully belonged to us in this secret killing
place - this small female life - ours to share - ours to do with as we
pleased.  We set up both cameras aimed from opposite sides and captured the
double whipping of the luckless infant at some point picking up wooden
canes to strike sharply at her leaving harsher welts, roping her ankles
tightly together to vent our fury on her pretty little legs and feet, then
on her back and buttcheeks, slicing viciously until she was on the verge of
fainting from the beating.
   We both sensed the moment coming.
   "Let's fuck her," I said, my voice a ghoulish snarl.
   I didn't need to say it, really.  We were already acting in tandem,
acting as a team, moving in on the whipped infant, dropping our whips.
   Our eyes were fierce glinting slits - we lost whatever iota might have
been left inside us of human compassion - we regressed to some dark
primitive place we both needed to go.
   I held Jasmine while Eric cut her free of the ropes.  Her skin was
flushed with scarlet striations and feverish.  I laid her on the table
again and she moaned and sobbed feebly but did not attempt to get away as I
released her.
   We re-adjusted the cameras and checked to make sure they were working
properly then we moved to the table.
   "O.k.," I said taking Jasmine by her rope-scarred wrists and stretching
her out so that she lay on her back, her legs dangling off the table's
edge. "You first."
   "You sure?" Eric asked.
   "Absolutely."
   He smiled wickedly.
   I watched him pick up Jasmine's welted legs by her ankles and spread
them wide and then his eyes moved down to his victim.  His cock was a huge
red battering ram, level with the edge of the table as he gripped it and
raised it to Jasmine's whipped slit.  Beating the child had worked him up
like a bull in heat.
   The child moaned responsively her eyes drifting up to mine.  If she
expected mercy she was looking in the wrong fucking place.
   "Nhhh," she muttered.
   I said nothing just stared impassively back at her and gripped her
wrists tightly as Eric257 began to shove his massive penis against the five
year old's virgin cunt.
   "Goddamn," he said softly.  "Jesus fucking CHRIST."
   "Do it," I encouraged him.  "Rip her open."
   "She's so fuckin' SMALL!"
   "Yeah.  Small and tight.  Put it in er, man.  Push it in there."
   "Its gonna kill er..."
   "Maybe it will - maybe it won't - either way: make it happen."
   He looked up at me poised there, Jasmine whining weakly, held easily
between us.
   "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it?" Eric257 asked.
   "You know it is.  You fuckin' know it."
   "Is it turning you on?"
   "Shit - fuck yeah its turning me on, man - I told you I've never done
this with another guy before.  I told you."
   "I know.  Its so freaky.  I've never been this - crazed."
   "You ever fuck a five year old before?"
   "Shit, no."
   "Any second thoughts?"
   "I feel - a little sorry for her."
   "I do too.  But that's kind of nice too, isn't it?  That part.  Feeling
sorry for her but still wanting to break her little cherry - to bust her
all up inside..."
   He looked at me for a moment.  I could see his hands tightening on
little Jasmine's ankles.  The child writhed and babbled.
   "You've done it before," he said simply.
   He knew.  He could sense it.  We'd become as one.  It was not possible
to lie to him.
   "Yeah.  I just - I didn't want to tell you -"
   "I got news for you," he said.  And then I knew as well.
   "I've done it before too."
   Still looking into my eyes he thrust forward.
   Jasmine shrieked and struggled in vain as Eric257 began to push his long
thick fuckpole into her small immature vagina.
   I held her arms spread apart, pressed down against the table, and I
stared into her suffering face.
   It just didn't get any better than this, I thought to myself.  This is
what it was all about.
   "Yeah -" I snarled encouragingly.  "Yeah, Eric.  Slam er.  Give the
little pig all you've got..."
   ___________________
   We really got into fucking her.
   We slid down to the floor after Eric had stuffed almost half his cock in
her and pulled it out again - in and out - in and out - while I videotaped
him going in for closeups of his monstrous hammerhead prick in Jasmine's
tiny muff-pie.
   Then, I lay down on the cold concrete and he lowered her on to me, on to
my waiting cock.
   We'd greased her up with vaseline to make things easier but it was still
no quick and easy deal getting my dick into her tight little anus.
   Eric stood over me, his strong legs wide apart, his feet planted on
either side of me as he pushed her down on to my shaft.
   "Can you get it in there?" he asked, holding the helpless squealing
redhead child by her arms, lowering her on to me.
   I pried the tight ring of anal muscle slightly open with my thumbs and
lifted my hips off the ground to squeeze the tip of the crown into the
minute gap.
   "I think so," I grunted.  "Push her
down...ahhh...yeah...easy...slow...oh ye-ahhh...further down.  Hold er
there.  Oh this is SWEET...easy...easy....alright, all the way down now."
   Jasmine threw her head back and shrieked at the ceiling.
   Eric laughed at her meanly.
   When the child was impaled on me he let her go and came around to stand
in front of her between my legs greasing up his pole with vaseline.
   "I don't know, Randy," he muttered.  "I don't know..."
   "Come on, man.  Go for it.  What's the difference?  One way or another
we're gonna kill this little slimeball...  Let's get all we can out of
her..."
   Eric stepped up to the kneeling child, grabbed her long red hair in his
fist and yanked her flushed sobbing face up to his vaseline-smeared prick.
   "Take it in your mouth, you little fuck," he growled.  "Suck it.  Lick
it. No!....not like that!"
   He slapped her hard.
   She quivered on my cock.
   "Open wider!" he shouted at her.  "Wider, goddamn it!  Stupid little
skag!"
   He smacked her again then drew her by her hair back to his prick.
   "That's better - ahhh - yeah!  That's right.  Suck.  Suck it, you
fricking little whore...mmmm...yeah...Look at me!  That's right!  Open your
fucking eyes and look at me!  Goddamn little weasel-bitch...How's this
little weasel-bitch fuckin' you, Randy?  Is she tight, man?  Huh?  Can you
get in any deeper?"
   "Push her down on me, man - uhhh - yeahh - that's it - goddamn I'm so
far up her you might just see my dick come out her mouth."
   Jasmine gasped for air and got no further than the tip of Eric's
behemoth cock in her little lips.  I was halfway up her asshole when he
pulled his prick from her face and sank to his knees between my legs.  I
felt his strong calves against my feet.
   I took her arms and pulled her back so that she lay on top of me.
   "Here goes nothing," Eric grunted.
   I watched him lean forward and tower over us and I felt him position his
enormous tool against the little cunt he had already plundered.
   "Ohh yeahh," I moaned.  "Sink it in, guy.  Sink it all the way in
there."
   "Hold er tight, man."
   "I got er."
   I put one arm around her neck pressing her head against my chest, her
soft red silky hair spilled out against my pectorals, her breath hot on my
wrist and forearm, her hot welted back against my cool abdomen.  Then I
grabbed her face with my other hand and cupped her mouth and pinched her
nostrils shut to stop sound and breath in my trapped victim.  Her asshole
tightened like a vise around my shaft.
   "Take er, Eric," I growled.  "She's yours."
   His heavy balls brushed against the base of my shaft as he slid forward
and ground his prick into Jasmine's cunt.  I felt him enter her and she
trembled and tried to escape.  I held her easily.
   "Ahhh," Eric moaned, leaning down over me.  "That's so nice - mmm -
don't let her breathe, Randy - that's cool - ohhh shitt - she's so hot and
tighttt...little fuck...sweet little fuckkk..."
   Jasmine made a desperate muffled screaming sound in her throat as Eric's
cock gouged into her already punished baby cooze.  The meaty sensation of
my accomplice's vaseline-slick cock riding into our victim just above my
own made my balls swell and I began to thrust upward instinctively, to
thrust against Eric, feeling him through the frail membrane of flesh that
divided our penetrating organs.
   "Ahh, that's nice -"I moaned.
   "Fuck yeahh," he replied.  He was looking at Jasmine, enjoying what I
could not see, her terror and agony expressed in her pretty angelic face.
He had lifted and split her legs far apart and he held them high, out on
either side.
   "You said you've done - uhh - you've done it before?" I asked.
   "Mmmm - yeahh, dude - sorry I lied - ahh - guess you lied too though."
   "Fuck that - did you ever do one this little?"
   "Mmmm - uhhh - no.  Not like this one...she's - precious - she's
starting to turn blue, man."
   I held her a little longer and felt her start to go weak.
   "I'm gonna let er breathe," I told him.  "When she opens her mouth, spit
in it - ok?"
   "Shit yeahh..."
   I waited until his cock slid back and forth a couple of times then, as
he pulled back to thrust in again I let Jamie take a breath.  Eric hocked
and spit in her gasping mouth and I thrust my cock deep up her asshole
timing my thrust so that we rammed into her simultaneously.  Then I grabbed
her face again and squeezed her nose shut before she could scream.
   "Aahhhh - nice, man -" Eric grunted, a trail of spit oozing from his
lip.
   "Are you in her all the way?" I asked.
   "Naw - bout half..."
   "You're gonna go for it, right?"
   "Oh yeahh...  What about you?"
   "I'm about three quarters of the way in - I'm in her shit - I feel it
running down my cock into my balls..."
   "Jesus.  Let me see that."
   He pulled out and looked down between Jasmine's wideflung legs.
   "That ain't shit, dude.  Its blood."
   - and he picked up her legs to split her wide and shimmied back into
her, thrusting and pumping fiercely while I held the asphyxiated child on
my chest.
   "How - uhhh - how many have you - have you done?" I asked him.
   Eric was moving beautifully now, his hips thrusting and slamming
rhythmically, the outside of his calves up against my thighs.
   "Two," he gasped.  "Two teenagers - one about six - uhh - six years ago
- the other one last - ahhh - last year."
   "You got pictures?"
   "No - ahhh - no pictures - not like you - I get too caught up in it to
take pictures..."
   "Too bad."
   I let Jamie take a breath then cupped my hand tight around her face
again, my fingers dug into her baby-fat cheek.
   "You like to kill young cunt, Eric?  Huh?  Do you like it?"
   "YEahhh - I love it - I sliced those bitches to shit - uhhh -"
   "How about this little pig?  Huh?  You wanna slice her up?  You wanna
cut her open?"
   "You better fuckin' believe it."
   He was slamming into her now.  He was rocking.
   "Show me," I urged.  "Show me how much you wanna kill her."
   He pounded into her harder.
   "Come on!" I shouted.  "SHOW ME!"
   "GRRAGGGHH!" he shouted fiercely and he slammed forward.
   I felt something give away inside Jasmine and I felt a flood of hot piss
and blood spew from her as she shrieked into my hand.
   Fiercely I jammed upward into her timing my thrusts with Eric's.
   I let Jasmine take two desperate sobbing breaths and I sealed her mouth
and nose up again now fucking the child brutally, pistoning into her
passionately, both of us plundering her, taking her to the limit, busting
her insides up.
   I didn't know how much more the little bitch would be able to take.  She
was a strong little kid.  I'd watched her swinging herself and dangling on
the monkey bars at the playground.  I'd watched her run and jump rope with
the other children and I'd made my choice - condemned her to death, just
like that, my heart full of vicious and ugly hatred for her, my soul
consumed by insatiable lust.  I'd seen her young mother call out to her
hating her too - considering taking her down as well though the logistics
would have been more complex but settling on the idea of taking her baby
from her - of destroying mom emotionally before coming back to take her
maybe a few months later - when that youthful energy and exhuberance and
love had turned into bleak emptiness.
   "Let me kiss her," Eric snarled.  "I want to taste her.  I want to bite
her."
   I released Jasmine to him and he took the child's head in both his hands
to smear his lips on hers and bite her neck and cheeks while she screamed
and squealed impaled and squirming on our cocks, her blood and piss
puddling under my ass.
   Maybe I would share Jasmine's mom with Eric too.  Why not?  Killing a
woman was much more substantial than killing a little girl.  A woman could
take much much more - and give so much...  And maybe we would show her the
videos while we did her - show her what was done with her little sweet baby
daughter.  Mom would have so much more meat on her, so much more meat to
torture and wound and maim and burn and slaughter.  Yeahh.  Mom would take
a couple of days for sure at the very least.  A couple of long hard days of
endless brutal masculine pleasure.
   I held Jasmine as I pushed up into her, gripped her thin breakable
wrists out on either side, pulling her arms apart as Eric smeared his lips
all over her face and wrapped his hands around her neck to choke her,
half-lifting her.
   He pressed her thumbs into her slender throat and I could hear her
gasping, coughing, her sphincter tight around my invading meat.
   He was staring into her face as he choked her.
   "You're gonna die," he kept growling meanly.  "You're gonna die - you're
gonna die -"
   I couldn't see her face but I imagined it flushed red, her brows arched,
her eyes wide and teary.  The horror she was feeling, the overwhelming
unimaginable horror must have been clearly evident on her pretty features.
Her arms fought against my gripping hands weakly and her tiny feet slipped
and slid, toes scrabbling to grip the floor, her heels against the sides of
my thighs.  Eric was destroying her mind as he plunged into her little cunt
and I was providing a cruelly driving backbeat now almost hilted in the
child's asshole, my hands almost breaking her little wrists as I held her
up by her arms.  We were taking all we could get from our little whipped
fuck-puppet and enjoying it - dizzy, mindless, enjoyment where time and
space ceased to matter - we drifted euphorically as we thrust into our
little victim until finally, at some point, we realized she'd passed out.
We thought we'd finished her but after we both pulled out of her and she
lay on the floor I bent over her and checked her pulse.
   It was strong and healthy.
   Jasmine still had a long way to go.
   A long fucking way.
   ___________________
   I dragged her by her hair across the floor into the bathroom - lifted
her into the tub.
   The fluorescent lamp in the ceiling above me buzzed.
   The room was green, the color of pine needles.
   Jasmine had left a little trail of piss, blood and shit on the floor
behind her.
   Her legs were smeared with it.
   Eric's cock and mine were smeared with it.
   The smell of it was thick.
   Jasmine's body was pink slashed with red and dark blue, bruised
beautifully, one eye dark-swollen from one of my blows, cheeks flushed, the
dark maroon and scarlet shades pronounced under the harsh white light.
   "What are we gonna do?" Eric asked following me into the bathroom,
jerking off slowly.
   "We're gonna hurt the little weasel," I replied turning the cold water
to full blast, aiming the shower-head at Jasmine, watching her kick out as
she regained consciousness trying to cringe away from the freezing
downpour. "We're gonna take this little pig down, Eric...all the way
down..." She tried to crawl out of the tub and I shoved her back under the
icy spray.
   Eric laughed as she tried again and got slammed back, sprawling on the
tub noisily, crying.
   "Stay the fuck in there!" I shouted at her and she crouched in a fetal
position under the water's punishing assault, her face down between her
up-drawn knees.
   I finally shut off the water and she huddled in the tub shivering as the
water gurgled away down the drain.
   I went out to the basement and got some rope and a metal eyelet from my
bag.
   When I returned Eric was standing outside the tub over Jasmine aiming
his pissing cock down on her wet head.
   I watched for a moment enjoying this unexpected scene of masculine
dominance then I climbed on the tub's edge to tap on the ceiling.
   "Lookin' for the stud?" Eric asked, still pissing on the child, one hand
on his huge prick as he hosed our unfortunate captive, the other on his
hip, his arm akimbo.
   The stink of his urine was sharp in the small room.
   "Yeah," I replied.  "I wanna hang the little bunny up so we can work on
er."
   The sheet-rock ceiling sounded hollow then muted under my rapping
knuckles and I screwed the eyelet into the beam through the thin sheet of
plaster.
   "Hey!" Eric shouted at Jasmine.  He stopped urinating on her.
   She remained head-down, unresponsive, his piss running down the twisted
red strands of her hair between her knees, trickling in a yellow stream
from her feet which were drawn up against her little bleeding butt, and
running into the drain hole.
   "Hey!" he shouted again and smacked her head.  "Look up at me, you
little shit!"
   He smacked her again and she whimpered.
   I drew the rope through the eyelet hook in the ceiling and stepped back
off the tub's edge.
   She raised her pretty face to us.
   "Open your mouth wide," he told her.  "I'm going to pee in it and you're
gonna swallow it."
   "You heard him," I told her as her eyes, one wide, the other bruised
half- shut, moved to me.  "In fact, we're both gonna pee in your mouth,
Jasmine...how's that?"
   "Naaaaa -" she bawled hoarsely, shaking her head pleadingly but keeping
her mouth open as instructed.
   The strand of rope dangled threateningly above her from the bathroom
ceiling and she gave out a little cry of surprise as both Eric and I let
loose almost simultaneously training twin gleaming streams of stinking hot
urine on the child's obediently open mouth and on her face.
   "Stinking little pig," Eric snickered as Jasmine tried to cope with the
flood of piss, swallowing some of it, choking, gagging, some of it spewing
from her nose.  We emptied ourselves all over her until she was covered
with our piss, until she choked and puked in the tub between her legs while
we continued to drizzle down on her, laughing, enjoying the inhuman
desecration of the helpless infant.
   "Get up on your knees and lick our pee-pees clean," I told her when we
finished.
   She moved awkwardly to comply, leaning on the edge of the tub to raise
her face and gingerly lap at our erect, still-dripping shafts.
   Even beaten, whipped and soaked in urine the child was breathtakingly
lovely.
   We rubbed hot manmeat on her piss-soaked, freckle-spattered cheeks and
on her hair and in her eyes taking turns to move in on her, spreading our
legs wide to make her lick our balls.  Eric made her cup her lips around
his piss-slit moaning as he shot a last short burst of urine into her
making her gag and almost puke again.  I pushed my own cockhead against her
forehead tracing the contours of her pretty little face with it, her
eyebrows her, eyelashes, the bruised eye, her lips as she babbled for mercy
and cried, snot piss and spit oozing from her nose.  Then as she licked my
cock like a lost puppy looking for affection I drew the end of the dangling
rope into a slip noose and put it around her neck.
   Tugging on the rope I yanked her slowly up on her feet.  She tried to
reach up and pull at the noose around her throat but I pushed her hands
down turning her so the she faced the rear wall of the tub, away from me
then I drew her wrists together behind her and told Eric to get some
strands of copper wire from my bag outside.  I hauled her up on her toes
until she was gasping for air,wide-mouthed, her feet slithering against the
piss-slimed floor of the tub.  Eric wrapped one piece of the wire tight
around her trapped wrists hard and another just above her elbows pinning
her arms behind her, tiny trickles of blood already spilling from where the
wire dug into her white freckled flesh.
   "Tie her feet," I told him.
   He started to rip off the little friendship bands which clung around her
ankles. They were dark-soaked with our piss.
   "Leave them on her," I told him.  " - we'll get them later."
   I stepped back and watched him wrap the thin copper strand around her
ankles pulling it tight enough to make her howl then taking a shorter piece
to tie her feet together by her toes making the wire squeeze through the
child's flesh right to the frail bones underneath.
   Returning to my bag outside I got the electric burner-plate, the
four-inch long ice-picks and a loop of wires that looked like an electrical
extension.
   "Goddamn," Eric said as he watched me plug in the burner plate and
position the two ice-pick shafts on the ceramic spiral.  "What the fuck is
all that?  Are we gonna cook the little cunt, fry her or what?"
   The end of the extension cord, which was about fifteen feet long, was
three separate lines ending in alligator clips.
   I went to Jasmine and swung her around to face me.
   "Pleeease," she moaned.
   "Shut the fuck up," I told her.
   The rope gripped her neck and twisted her little head slightly to the
left.
   "H-hurtts!" she groaned.  "Hurtss!"
   "I said shut the fuck UP!" I snarled.  "Its gonna hurt a lot worse soon,
cunt."
   Moving quickly I seized her tiny pink nipple and placed the alligator
clip on it.  The sharp little teeth bit into her and she gave out a shrill
squeak.
   Eric made a low moaning sound of pleasure.
   I attached the second clip to her other nipple and as she choked and
babbled and sobbed I spread her chubby mons open and pushed the final
alligator clip into the sensitive silky skin between the swollen lips.  As
I released the metal mouth it bit into her and caused her to howl and
squeeze her bound legs together while Eric stepped in next to me to observe
our innocent captive's agony more closely.
   "I want my muhmmmaa!" she wailed.
   Eric was jerking off slowly now, feeding on Jasmine's suffering, as I
plugged the other end of the extension into the wall outlet - a small
plastic plunger-trigger in my hand.
   "Don't get too close," I warned him.
   He turned to glance at me, saw the plunger and understood.
   "God-damn," he whispered smiling, turning back to watch what was about
to happen to little Jasmine.
   "God-damn is right," I said, my voice calm.  "She's just five years
old...Aren't you sweetie?  Five fuckin' years old."
   "Awhhhh - hurtttsss -" she babbled.
   "Only five -" Eric said.  "That's fuckin' nice...practically a big
girl...."
   My thumb was ready on the plunger.
   "She told me so herself when I asked her - before I gave her the
lollipop."
   "Hmmm."
   I stroked myself slowly with the other hand.
   "Was it nice to fuck a five year old girl?" I asked him.
   "Shit yeahh."
   "Did you like hurting her...pissing on her...?"
   "You know it."
   "Look at er, Eric...she's so small...she's just a little kid...how's
that make you feel?"
   "You know how it makes me feel.  Just like it makes you feel.  She's a
little piece of shit.  I want to see her bleed, I want to see her scream. I
want to break her.  Its sick as crap but its what we both want...Its why
we're here."
   As we spoke, Jasmine looked from one to the other, crying softly, her
lower lip trembling.
   "I be good girl -" she moaned suddenly.  "Be good girl - be good girl -
don't - don't - don't huh - hurt me.  Ta-take me back to muhmmaa..."
   "No," Eric said, his voice cold and ugly.  "You're not gonna see your
momma.  Ever - You'll never see her.  Never again."
   Jasmine started to whine.
   I smiled at the empty terror in the child's expression.  It made me feel
so powerful - so complete.  That had been a nice touch from Eric - to kill
that in her - to smother any last remnant of hope.
   "Muh-mmaaaaa!" she wailed.
   This was the moment Eric257 and I lived for - it was what we hungered
for in our darkest fantasies - it was what we would take to our graves -
this secret forbidden destruction of innocence - this male barbaric act
which bonded us like nothing ever could - made us brothers - linked and
unified us by virtue of its extreme perversity.
   "Give it to er, Randy," he hissed.  "Jesus.  Give it to er now."
   "She's only five years old -" I reminded him.  "Only five."
   "I know.  That's why its so fucking perfect, goddamn it.  Give it to er.
I want to see it happen."
   "I want to see it too - but I want to tell you Eric, because I know you
understand it.  I mean.  Once I start this, there's no going back.  I mean
part of me wants it so bad - so fuckin' bad.  But there's still a part of
me that says we can let her go and get away with it, you know?"
   "I know, man - I know how you feel.  But you know we can't stop it now.
There's no fucking stopping it now."
   He was right.  There was no going back.
   "This is the youngest one I've ever done," I said.  And this time it was
the absolute truth.  "I don't know why I hate her so much..."
   "I hate the little fuck too.  We're fucking sick, man."
   "Yeah," I agreed.
   Then I cupped my balls in my free hand and licked my lips.
   "Fuck it, Eric," I grunted.  " - let's get what we came for..."
   When I pressed the plunger electrical bursts shot into Jasmine's nipples
and pussy.  She became sharply animated.  Sparks fizzled from the alligator
clamps - not big dramatic sparks like in the movies - small white flashes.
I held the plunger down for almost a full minute watching her jerk around
and twist.  She swung in a full circle twice and the second time her head
banged into the soap tray in the back wall. She bounced off it and
continued to spasm.
   Eric jerked off with quick energetic strokes.
   There was a new smell in the room now...singed girl-meat.
   "Jesus -" he sighed.  "Jesus - jesus -"
   "Fuckin' beautiful," I grunted.
   "Yeah - Good God - yessss...Fry the little whore!"
   I released the plunger and Jasmine gave out a whining gasp, her tonge
lolling as the rope tightened around her neck, her body slumping slightly.
A small cut bled just above her left eyebrow.
   "Again," Eric whispered.  "Do it again."
   The fluorescent lamp buzzed in the ceiling.
   "Ugg -" Jasmine gasped.  "Uggg!"
   She knew what was coming.  Her green eyes wide.  Even the bruised one.
   Pretty.
   I looked into them, smiled, waited for almost a minute and then pressed
the plunger.
   The child pirouetted almost instantly, and then leaped against the
choke-rope.
   "Wagghhh!" she cried out, eyes rolling back, eye-whites shimmery.
   The sparks fizzled.
   "Wagg!Wgg!  Wgghh!"
   "Kill the little bitch!" Eric snarled.  "Kill er!"
   Jasmine danced for us, propelled by a hundred and twenty volts from the
bathroom wall socket.  It was a sweet little dance.  Frenetic.  Full of
life and energy.  Needful and frantic.
   Smoke smouldered up from the ice-pick blades heated on the now red-hot
burner-plate...that would be next...
   I continued to hold the plunger down remembering the way Jasmine's hair
had gleamed in the sunlit playground as she dangled from the monkey bars
and giggled.
   I released the plunger, gave her a minute, watched her gasp, stagger on
her bound toes and look up at me again in dazed suffering, pleadingly -
then I gave her more - made her dance again.
   She had looked so pretty, so unsuspecting, assuming only goodness from
the world, coming up the walkway of her grandmother's house to the stranger
who had left the engine runnng in the dark van parked on the curb.
   "Here's a lollipop for you, little girl," I'd told her after she'd told
me how old she was.
   "Oh!" she'd replied.  "Is it strawberry?"
   "Yes.  It is.  Do you like strawberry?"
   She had peeled the plastic off and had begun to lick it, still smiling
up at me.  Sunshine gleamed through the leafy branches of the oak trees.
   "I love strawberry...mmmm."
   "Where's your mom?" I'd asked watching her pink tongue lap at the red
candy.
   "She be back later.  I stay with grandma."
   "Oh, really?  And where is grandma?"
   "Asleep."
   No surprise there.
   She was wearing red shorts and a pink t-shirt and she was barefoot. 
That was the first time I'd noticed the friendship bands.
   "What are those on your foot?" I asked her.
   "Mommy gave them to me.  Pretty."
   "Yes.  Very pretty.  You're a very pretty little girl..."
   Now, I released the plunger and studied her in the harsh bathroom light.
Her red hair was snarled in thick wet strands that fell over her eyes. 
Trickles of blood ran off her little fingers from the copper wire around
her wrists and arms.  Her ankles and toes bled too and the blood mixed with
the water and piss in the tub...her life already draining away.
   "Uggg - ah -" she groaned and a small burst of bloody shit spilled down
the inside of her thighs followed by a squirt of bright yellow pee.
   "Give er more," Eric instructed cruelly.
   "You bet," I replied pressing the plunger.
   And why not?  There was no question she deserved what we were giving
her. Deserved it in spades.  She was there for our pleasure and we were
determined to get it.  We were stronger, smarter and more powerful.  She
was ours.
   This time the child's dance was even more macabre, more hopeless in its
furious involuntary abandon.  Her arms and legs flailed against the green
tub, thumped, smacked against the faucet and the valves.  She swiveled and
smashed again into the soap dish which this time left a bruise across her
cheek.  I gave her electricity until her little nubs and puss smoked, until
her white flesh was burned red, until spit bubbled in her mouth, thick
white spume spilling down her chin.
   Then I stopped and handed the plunger to Eric.
   "You give er some," I told him.  "I'm gonna get the camera."
   Later Eric and I would agree that this was the best part of the whole
tape, Jasmine dancing in the tub to the sizzling bursts of electricity,
kicking and spinning and gasping for air, her eyes rolling back in her
little head.  He worked her for a half hour, giving her one minute bursts
and a few seconds of respite then giving her short three second bursts that
made her howl and babble.  I just kept the camera focused on Jasmine's
torture astounded by the beauty and the awesome cruelty of it.  And, later,
when I watched the tape, alone at home in my apartment, I would see what
Eric would never be able to see because he had not been there at grandma's
house under the soft sunlight slipping down through the gentle old branches
- I would see what Jasmine had once been, the resplendent child beauty,
before we got our hands on her - as well as what we turned her into - what
we needed to turn her into - a stinking bloody mess of broken bones and
tattered flesh.
   __________________
   After an hour of the electrical torment I yanked the clips from the
blubbering child.
   Eric and I picked up the heated ice-picks.
   We re-tied Jasmine's wrists, now to strands of wire around her thighs,
her arms pressed to her sides, she still dangling by her neck from the
rope.
   "Don't go deep," I told him.  "Let's just bleed the little slut.  Poke
the blood outta her..."
   At first we took turns.  One or two stabs each.  Into her whipped flesh.
   I specially enjoyed the thigh-meat and the legs but eventually I was
drawn to her baby muff and her belly - dangerous areas considering my state
of arousal.
   Eric too seemed to favor those areas of Jasmine's anatomy and soon there
were multiple dark-burned dot-sized bleeding wounds all over her bound legs
and her hairless mons.
   With each stab Jasmine gave out weak gurgling squeals, her eyes always
raised to whoever the attacker happened to be.
   Occasionally I tugged on the rope to choke her while I stabbed her.
   I needed to be as cruel with her as possible.
   We enjoyed the sharp burning hurt we were imposing on our bound victim
but enjoyed it so much more when she began to babble and plead, to cry out
for help, to try and cringe away from our hot ice-picks once she'd
recovered from the shock-torment I'd put her through earlier.
   Soon Eric and I stopped taking turns and worked her simultaneously.
   "Turn around!" I shouted at her.
   When she obeyed offering us her back, turning awkwardly on her bound
feet to face the tiled wall I re-heated my ice-pick and began to poke it
into her upper back and shoulders.
   Eric followed suit.
   The hot steel weapons hissed as they came in contact with the child's
pale freckled skin.
   Inevitably and predictably we began to stab deeper.
   She jerked and twisted spastically to each brutal wounding.
   We used the ice-picks on her whipped buttcheeks, sinking them into her
muscle mass, making her twist, her wire-bound feet thumping against the tub
floor as she tried to spin around.
   I grabbed her by her arm to hold her still, heated my ice-pick and
watched Eric stab her plump little thighs.
   "Yeah - bleed the little whore," I growled encouragingly.  "Give it to
er."
   When my weapon was super-hot, bloodied metal shaft smoking, I drew the
tip across Jasmine's back from her shoulder to her ass diagonally slashing
a long burn-cut line across the wailing child.
   "Yeahhh!" Eric shouted.
   He stabbed her calves and her scream ended in short staccato squeaks
with each thrust of his ice-pick.
   I put the tip of my weapon at the base of her spine and pressed it in
slightly then dragged it up slowly to the back of her neck slicing a long
cut on her.  Then I stabbed her arms, now sinking almost a half-inch of
metal into our infant captive.
   I swung her back around to face us and now there were no words - just
the stabbing sounds, the hiss of our heated ice-picks entering and exiting,
fucking the luckless redhead child, her sobbing shrieks, her heels banging
on the tub.
   Blood streamed down her legs in spiraling rivulets.
   I reached down to rub my hand on her wound-pocked belly and brought it
to my mouth to lick up her blood.
   Now and then as we stabbed deeper into the little bitch her knees
started to sag and she would hang choking on the rope.  The anguished
horror in her teary eyes was fathomless - unspeakable - unthinkable -
unreasonable.
   "This is nice," Eric whispered.
   By then we were stabbing her in earnest, ice-picks thumping into her
small belly, gouging dark blood out of her.
   "Real nice," I concurred pushing my weapon right into Jasmine's dimpled
little belly button and putting nearly all of it in her.
   She shuddered and spat up blood and choked, her head arching backward.
   Eric sank his spike just below mine and to the left in her groin.
   She mewled pitifully, slumped, held up for us by the rope around her
neck, then rose up on her bound toes, quivering.
   "She's gonna die soon if we keep this up," Eric uttered as he yanked out
his ice-pick.  A squirt of blood shot on to his arm.  "Why don't we cut
holes in her belly and fuck her," Eric suggested.  "We can killer that
way...it'll be sweeter..."
   I sank my pick into Jasmine's liver, hilted it in her watching her eyes
roll back, her face and lips light blue as she gasped for air, her mouth
gaping.
   I held it in her just watching - enjoying her - thinking about what he'd
said.
   Then I pulled it out.
   "That sounds good," I replied.  "I think we should hang er up outside
for it - there's more room."
   I hocked and spit in Jasmine's open mouth and then stabbed her again,
this time driving the ice-pick into her intestines.
   As she gave out a sharp yowl she farted - runny bloody faeces spurted
from her gouged asshole - Eric laughed and stabbed her cheek putting the
pick right into her open mouth - my phlegm mixed with her blood oozed from
her lips.
   "Let's do it," I snarled as Eric tore the ice-pick out of her face. 
"Let's kill this little pig."
   We dropped our bloody weapons in the tub.
   I loosened the rope from around Jasmine's neck and carried her out to
the basement and laid her on her stomach on the table.
   We took six fishing hooks from my bag and pierced them through the skin
of her back, two parallel rows of three on either side of her sliced up
spine.  She sobbed softly.  The amount of blood she'd already lost had
taken a toll on her.  She no longer struggled and her movements were
becoming lethargic.
   We ran two strands of nylon line through each row of hooks and pulled
the dying five year old up off the table to hang before us, her arms still
bound to her upper thighs, pressed to her sides, her ankles and feet still
wire-bound.
   Blood was pouring out of her belly wounds and she was now flailing
pointlessly, her head hanging, lolling, long red-hair in a tangle cascading
in front of her.
   We'd pulled her to just the right height, her feet off the ground, her
belly level with our groins, and we moved in, each of us with sharp
black-handled fish- scaling knives.
   We stood close to each other, contact close, side by side, brothers in
destruction.
   "This is it," Eric257 growled.
   "Yeah," I responded.  "You ready?"
   "You fuckin' better believe it.  Let's send this bunny up."
   I put my arm around his shoulder and he put his around my waist.
   We were like a couple of war-buddies after a drinking night.
   I stabbed first sinking my blade into little Jasmine's abdomen, above
her left thigh.
   Her head swung back up and she looked at us, her face inches from ours,
her hair streaming down over her face, blood bubbling from her lips.
   "Agg," she groaned feebly, lips wide.
   Then Eric stabbed her, a mirror image of the wound I'd inflicted on her
right side and she yowled shrilly, brows arched, green eyes flickering.
   We looked into those eyes, the one wide, the other beaten shut, as we
gouged her out, carved ourselves two holes for our pricks and she looked
back and forth from me to Eric questioningly, beseeching, supplicating,
very pale now.
   My arm still around his shoulders, his still around my waist we moved in
closer and yanked the knives out of her and dropped them to the floor.
   Blood spurted from the grisly wound-holes.
   We raised our cocks to her and slid inward sealing up the two wounds
with our cock-spears, sinking into delicious gut-heat, Jasmine arching with
agony, her back-flesh stretched by the fishing hooks she hung from, her
little hands closed into fists.
   Eric leaned over her to kiss her bleeding lips and as he moved down to
bite her neck I kissed her too pushing my tongue into her as she gasped.
   I could feel Eric next to me thrusting and swiveling in time with me,
our hip bones pressed together as we jammed to the soundless soul-less
rhythm of the slaughter-fuck holding on to each other, his breath on my
face, his hair against my cheek, as we kissed and bit Jasmine's face and
neck and shoulders.  Our cocks were ripping the knife-holes wider and
spurts of blood spattered our balls as we pushed in deeper.  We were like a
two headed creature now, a single entity crushingly copulating with our
five-year old victim, clutching her hanging body tightly, almost holding
ourselves up on her, fuck-gouging the life from her, ramming into her guts,
hilting ourselves in her, her blood and bits of her running down our legs
and spattering the floor.  We bit into her throat from opposite sides hard
and she shrieked as our teeth tore into her.  Now we were just animals. 
There was no language, no need for it.  We were carnivorous gemini beasts
feeding.
   And Jasmine tasted so good, her blood spurting into our throats as we
fucked her guts.
   Later I would watch the tape and see Jasmine's eyes go glassy as her
head tipped back.  I'd seen that before.  It was in a film I'd seen on a
cable channel - a nature film - which showed wild boars tearing into a
deer. When the boars finally had the deer on the ground they'd ripped into
its exposed belly and the stricken animal had raised its head for a moment,
its eyes going glassy, and then its head had collapsed into the dirt, eyes
still open but expressionless - just like Jasmine's as she gave up her life
for us.
   Sweet martyred angel now trembling in horrible spastic death.
   Ahh - the hot thick sperm about to rush up from my balls.
   Eric's head tossed back, his mouth covered with blood but smiling as he
shoots into her.
   "Ye-e-aahhhhh!" he growls savagely.  "YEAHHHHH!"
   Truly my brother, side by side, finishing, thrusting, pumping into our
victim.
   The way the sperm feels so hot and urgent rushing up like a column of
blazing heat into the penetration - Jasmine's gutsack - violated - to empty
myself in her - all of me - ahhh - so much of it now rising - rising -
rising - beautiful little pig taking all my rage - all of his - all of it!
   "Goddd-DAMNNN!"
   Jasmine's lifeless eyes forgive me as I empty it all into her, crushing
her to me, pressed against Eric whose hand grips my hip as my hand grips
his shoulder. Two strong powerful masculine butchers claiming the glory of
the kill.
   "Shittt..." he gasps.
   "Holy fuckkk -" I mutter.
   It takes a few minutes for it to subside.
   Sperm and blood dribble from the knife wounds.
   We pull out of the dead sagging child-carcass, slide out of her,
breathless - I slump against one of the support columns, Eric leans on the
butcher-block table.
   "Jesus Christ -" he grunts.  "Look at er...fuckin' beautiful..."
   And I look.  And she is.
   Dead and hanging there, beaten, bruised, a hundred or more wounds from
the hot ice-picks all over her, two gross cuts in her belly, her head
angled to one side, eyes still open, mouth leaking blood...our five year
old victim is precious in death as in life - she is an icon - one still in
need of more desecration and destruction.
   "Let's cut her up," Eric says softly.  He's bending down to pick up the
knife.
   I follow his lead silently.
   Yes.
   We take our time.  The cameras record this too.  A grisly but sensual
task as we drop her to the ground and release her from the wires that bind
her and begin slowly to dismember her cute little body.
   We slice her fingers and hands off first - then her arms - by then we
need to fuck her again and we do using her dead body to release whatever is
still in us, taking turns, watching and taping each other with the dead
mutilated child.
   Then we cut her feet off her, small pretty feet, now getting the
friendship bands from her, one for Eric, one for me, the little anklets
soaked dark red with her blood.
   "I was thinking we can go back for the mother," I tell him as we slice
her legs off.  Cutting through the bone is tough work and it takes us a
while.
   "Yeah," he replies.  He's bent over her.  Working the knife.  Not
looking up. "You mean like in a couple of months or so."
   "That's exactly right."
   "When she's all fucked up about this."
   "Yep."
   "And we show er the tapes...  while we do er..."
   "Damn right.  How did you know that's what I was thinking?"
   He looks up and grins.  Jasmine's blood stains his chin and neck, his
hands and arms.
   "We're - connected, my friend.  Truly connected."
   By that time Jasmine is just torso and abdomen.
   We need her again and we take her - play with her - use her - indulge
our sickest most primal need for necrophilic enjoyment with the child's
cadaver.
   Finally, I watch him gut her.  I can tell it is what he really enjoys.
He eviscerates Jasmine slowly, carefully and lovingly until she lies in
pieces all over the basement floor.  He handles each of her organs as if it
were a religious object rubbing it on his balls and on his face and on his
cock.
   We cut her little heart in two and eat it.
   We cut off her head.  I scalp the long red mane off it with a sharp
scalpel while Eric watches slowly stroking himself.  Then we take her
blood-bald head into the bathroom, put it in the tub, face up, eyes still
open, and we piss on it - empty our bladders on it...
   It is a final and most necessary pleasure.
   ___________________
   Eric257 and I parted where we met: at the highway rest stop.
   It took us a whole day to hose down the basement and erase all traces of
our work there.
   Jasmine ended up in two king-sized plastic garbage bags - heavy duty
ones meant for dead leaves and such.
   We buried her in the woods near Greely's pond, her little friendship
bands tight around our wrists, washed clean of course.
   About two months later I would see Jasmine's face on a televised report
on missing children.
   I figured Eric would email me something about it.
   A week later he did - a coded message - he was looking forward to mom's
turn, it said.
   Frankly, so was I.
   WOODBURN