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 invoke its appearance in our midst.
   Father's Little Helper
   Ashley stood in the doorway of Father's bedroom.
   He had his back to her and he sat on the edge of the bed.
   He was waiting for her, and she could feel the energy coiled up inside
him like a nest of hornets waiting to be let loose.  The muscles on his
thick neck stood out like cable-cords leading up into his buzz-cropped
head.
   She could see he was naked and the pale glow of the lamp on the
nightstand made his bare flesh glow like bronze.  His body hair was sparse
and what little grew on his chest and legs he periodically shaved clean so
that his skin was smooth and unblemished, taut as a drumskin over his hard
well-developed musculature.  From a dark thick mat of brown pubic hair in
his crotch his thick white cockshaft sprouted like the stalk of some
venomous tropical plant
   He was stroking himself, getting himself ready for her.
   She looked at the powerful muscles in his upper arms and neck and felt
herself start to get wet under the short green skirt of her school uniform.
She didn't want to feel that way but she couldn't help herself.  Father had
trained her well.
   She felt helpless, dizzy, weak-kneed, in his presence - and needy - her
eyes dwelling hungrily on the undulating muscle-lines of his broad back.
   "C'mere, bitch," he said without bothering to look at her.
   She obeyed instantly moving across the carpeted floor on bare feet.
   She'd already taken her shoes and socks off in preparation for Father.
   Around her left ankle she wore a thin gold chain with a tiny round
medallion on it.  Father's initials were imprinted on the medallion. 
Though she had no memory of it he had put the chain on her when she was
three years old, adjusting it occasionally as she grew so that it would not
fall off.  She was not allowed to remove the chain for any reason at any
time.  Now as she moved across the room the little medallion tinkled
against the chain reminding her that she was Father's property, Father's
slave to do with as he pleased.
   "You're late," he said as she came around the bed to stand in front of
him, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, her lips trembling.
   "Janie's mom had car trouble and -"
   "Shut the fuck up.  I don't want to hear your lameass excuses."
   Her heart skipped a beat.  He was really charged up today.  She heard it
in his voice.  His dark brooding eyes glanced up insolently.
   "Are you wet for me?"
   "Yes, sir," She heard herself - her voice throaty.  "I'm always wet for
y-you." Unconsciously her hands unclasped and pressed the soft fabric of
her skirt flat.
   "Take your panties off - slow - you know how I like you to do it."
   Father's voice was chillingly calm and neutral.
   Ashley had just turned thirteen and her legs were slender, though still
a bit lanky, covered with a soft down of tiny blondish hairs, and the hem
of her short skirt fluttered around her thighs as she bent forward slightly
to tug her white cotton panties with the tiny purple floral patterns past
the soft round knobs of her knees and all the way down to her ankles.
   She could feel his eyes tracking her every move.
   The little medallion tinkled as she stepped out of the soft rumpled
garment.
   "Put em in your mouth," Father instructed.
   She did as she was told, opening her lips wide to stuff the folded up
cloth past them, and she looked down into his moody eyes feeling her breath
catch and her heart race.  She saw his hand slow stroking - a slow
unhurried rhythm - and knew she was really in for it.  His arm moving that
way reminded her of the steel shaft that links the powerful metal wheels of
a locomotive.
   "We're going hunting tonight," he said softly.  His words almost made
her cum and she made a small moaning noise in her throat.
   He leaned back on the bed, resting on one elbow masturbating slowly as
she watched, his hand working the hard spike of flesh expertly.
   "Yeah," he said staring back at her, enjoying the way she looked at him.
   He liked to make her watch.
   "I'm in the mood for something real small tonight, sugarpie - something
real small and real tight - maybe five or younger.  I like the way that
feels around this -" he half-smiled as his eyes indicated the long hard
shaft of manmeat in his hand - " you know?  Like that little blonde back in
January - remember?"
   She nodded slowly.  How could she forget?  Ashley had seen that child's
face on a poster in the mall.  That one and some of the other ones she'd
helped' Father with in the past three years.  He'd put that long beautiful
cock in all of them - right to the hilt.
   She tasted the faint bitter taste of urine and cum-slime on the crumpled
fabric of the panties in her mouth.  She was hot and wet between her thighs
and starting to throb with the need of him.
   "You oughta see how stupid you look," Father said, the vague smile
disappearing.  "You look real fucking stupid with those panties in your
mouth, girl.  Stupid and slutty - like your momma.  Yeah.  Just like your
fucking momma.  I used to make her put her panties in her mouth too. 
That's where a girl's panties belong. Specially after they've been up
against her stinking cunt all day long.  Right?" He flashed an evil grin at
her and Ashley nodded slowly.  Then Father's voice went slightly harder. 
"Put your hands behind you, nasty girl."
   Father lay back and watched her, his eyes probing her.
   "You're ready to cream aren't you?"
   She nodded.  In the quiet of the shadowy room she could hear the quick
gasping breaths she was taking and she felt dizzy.  It seemed to her that
his eyes could penetrate right through her skull and into her soul.  The
way he looked at her, so full of angry hatred and need, made quick tendrils
of heat ripple inside her, all along the inside of her vaginal passage, her
clit throbbing so bad she wanted to crush her thighs together or squeeze
both her hands against her slitted sexmound.
   She remembered the little girl he was talking about - remembered
watching the cute waif dangle from the rusty chain from the ceiling of the
shack in the woods, Father swinging the thick club, the hard thudding
blows, the shrill cries and later the inevitable squeals of pain as Father
pressed his hot blade into helpless childmeat.
   Ashley liked the sounds the little ones made - the way they looked cut
open, their insides dropping out of them - the way they smelled when they
were dying.
   Father raised one leg and propped his foot up on the stucco wall beside
her.
   "Rub your cunt on me," he told her.
   "Mmm," she moaned and straddled Father's leg.  He had strong well shaped
manly legs and she now pressed her hot little pussy slit against his
kneecap and rocked back and forth still looking down on him.  Again, the
medallion on her ankle tinkled softly.
   "You stupid worthless little slut," he told her, still slow stroking
himself, his cockshaft fully erect, a cyclopic stump of manhood between his
meaty thighs. "All fuckin' wet...Just like your fuckin' momma.  A slimy
piece of whoremeat.  Keep your hands behind you, don't let me see reach out
for that wall.  You keep your balance, missy, hear me?"
   She nodded quickly, drooling down her chin.
   "Lean toward me," he told her.  "I want to slap you."
   She obeyed trembling, waiting for the blow.
   He made her wait - long interminable moments - and when he stretched out
his long arm and reached up she flinched instinctively.  He smiled,
chuckled, and instead of slapping her he pushed her panties deeper into her
mouth, pushing them back in her throat.
   "Don't want these to fall out when I hit you, do we?"
   "Ghm," she muttered shaking her head.
   He leaned back and continued stroking himself.
   Ashley wondered what the other kids in school would say if they could
see this - or the teachers - if they knew or even suspected.  But Father
was a very good liar and no one had the slightest inkling about what was
happening to her on a daily basis.  He never left bruises on her where they
could be spotted.  He seemed to know just how hard to slap her face without
leaving a mark on her that would not fade before the next school day. 
Weekends were always harder because he could take more liberties and he
knew how to mark her in places no one would see, like the time he'd carved
his initials on her buttcheeks with his hunting knife and then fucked her
up the ass.  The bed had been smeared with her blood.  Once he'd gotten a
bit carried away and she'd had to stay home for a week pretending to have
the flu.  That time he'd given her a fat lip and a bad shiner in one eye,
which had left her face swollen and the eyelid half-shut.  Once he'd broken
her arm and she had to lie about it at the hospital and later at school
telling everybody she fell while climbing a tree.  The doctor in the
emergency room had eyed her suspiciously but asked no questions.  A couple
of other times Father had made her sick by making her eat his shit and
drink his piss and she'd had to come home from school after a couple of
hours with vomiting and cramps.  Then there was the time she'd gotten
pregnant - she didn't want to think about that though the memory pressed
against the inside of her head and took her breath away.
   Father had once been a doctor - he didn't practice anymore - and he
would heal her and write all the necessary excuses for the nurse at school.
He'd taken care of her when she was pregnant.  And he told her he would
take care of her the same way if it happened again.  She had no reason to
doubt him.  Father did not use words unnecessarily.  There was a room in
the basement.  A windowless room with a stainless steel sink and a chair
mounted on a revolving platform with leather restraints - the chair could
tilt into any position.  A big round floodlamp on an adjustable arm craned
over the chair.  There was a small table with surgical instruments.  There
were steel and glass cabinets and bottles and boxes of surgical gloves. 
Once Father had taken a little girl apart on that chair.  Piece by piece.
The memory made heat rise up Ashley's belly, made her ears buzz.  Once
she'd been on that chair too - when she was pregnant.  She was eleven or
maybe she'd just turned twelve.  She remembered looking up into that big
white floodlight and screaming.
   Now she remembered to take her birth control pills - but still - it
could happen again.  It was possible.  And if it did she'd be in that room
again under that harsh blinding light.
   And yet, if anyone had questioned her about anything that might appear
suspicious she would have protected Father.  Her love for him was absolute
and unshakable.  She would do anything he asked of her, die for him if he
wanted her to.  Nothing was more beautiful for her than to watch him
release his brutal sexuality, to watch him take his pleasure from her
suffering or from the pain and suffering of the innocent victims she'd
helped him capture.  Father took everything from them, their beauty, their
dignity, their humanity their lives - all they had to give.  He was a cruel
God, impossible to appease.
   "You little piece of shit," he growled and his arm leaped at her and his
rough hand finally smacked across her face harshly, turning her head.
   She gave out a small cry and struggled to stay on her feet, clutching
his leg between her thighs and keeping her hands clenched behind her.  He
slid his foot further up the wall lifting her up on his knee, forcing her
up on her toes.
   "Don't you fall down slut -" he intoned menacingly.  "You take what I
give you and you stand there!  Stupid smartypants schoolgirl fuck!"
   He swung again turning her head the other way and the blow deafened her.
   She gagged on the panties feeling the flush of bloodheat on her cheeks.
   The pain startled her but also made her knees wobble and her pussy hot.
   He had taught her she deserved the pain, deserved to be hit and used. 
And she believed it and accepted it and as he slapped her again and again
she struggled to keep her balance clasping her hands behind her back and
offering him her face for more punishment.
   After twelve fierce blows he growled:
   "Get on your knees."
   - and he rose up on his feet to stand over her as she slid downward
before him in the shadows, half deaf and dizzy, hands still behind her,
tilting her head back as he reached into her mouth and yanked the
drool-soaked panties out and tossed them aside.
   "I love you, daddy," she moaned breathlessly.
   "Show me, pig," he replied coldly.  "Show me just how much you love me."
   She leaned forward eagerly and cupped the head of his mamooth prick in
her lips, licking his piss-slit and reaching up to squeeze his balls gently
in her small hands as he'd taught her long ago.
   She traced the full long length of his shaft with her finger tips.
   She loved his cock with all her soul.
   He was so big, so powerful.
   He looked down on her, Omnipotent.
   He stood over her for a few minutes letting her pleasure him and then he
swung around, offering her his back and he climbed up on the bed and spread
his thighs open.
   "You know what I like.  Lick my balls and my asshole.  Put your goddamn
tongue up me."
   Moaning feverishly, flushed from the slapping she leaned forward, still
on her knees to bury her face between his firm buttocks pushing one hand
down between her own small thighs to rub and poke and grind.
   "Yeahh," he grunted arching his back.  "That's it you little shit. 
Lick. Lick goddamn you.  That's where your pretty face belongs - up my
ass...You are such a worthless piece of cuntfuck.  Come on!  Suck those
balls or I'll tie you down and shit on your face.  I might do it anyway
just for the hell of it.  I love to shit on your stupid face you stupid
fuck.  You know that?  I don't care how good your grades are or how smart
people tell me you are, you scummy tramp.  You'll always be nothing for me
but a scum-sucking whore.  That's all you were ever born to be isn't it?"
   "Yes - yesss - daddiee -" she cried against the soft hot flesh of his
scrotum.  "Yess - that's all -"
   "Put your tongue up my ass!  Yeah - that's right - that's fucking nice,
you maggot.  Make me hard.  Yeahh.  Make me hard enough to kill, bitch.
That's what I need tonight.  I need to be hard enough to kill.  You got
it?"
   "Y-yethh - gghh - yethhh - daddiee -"
   Ashley licked the inside of her father's hard-toned hair-less thighs up
and down and pressed her short-nailed fingers against his anus.  She loved
the hard mansmell of him, musky and vaguely sweet.  Father kept himself
scrupulously clean, sometimes showering twice a day and his hands always
smelled of soap gel.  She knew he had probably showered before she got home
from school earlier - probably stroking himself under the hot spray
thinking about what he would do to her - But the scent of his arousal was
always strong and overpowering.  She licked the soles of his feet and
between his toes and he reached down and pulled her face back up to his
ass. She knew he wanted her there, right in his ass, her face and her mouth
urgently up against his shithole.  She put her fingers in him the way he
liked and her tongue even as she thrust the finger of her other hand into
her own sexhole.  She could smell her own arousal and taste his sour hot
faeces up inside him and she pressed her face against his big ball-sacs
groaning eagerly.  The strong animal whiff coming from both of them was
like the darkness that dominated them - vile primordial darkness that no
sweet soap smell could mask.
   Then he rose up off the bed and pushed her back against the wall,
lifting her up on her feet to yank her blouse up over her head and to tear
her school skirt down off her leaving her naked as he french kissed her
brutally.  He tore her training bra off her as she put her arms up against
the wall giving herself to him and his hands gripped her small budding tits
pinching the pink-red nipples hurtfully as he continued to kiss her, to
ream her mouth out with his tongue actually, to lick her slapped cheeks and
to grip her long graceful neck with his free hand to choke her.  He swung
his fist hard up into her belly punching the air of her and he grabbed her
by her skinny arms and swung her up off her feet to fling her effortlessly
across the bed.  She lay there whimpering as he mounted the bed straddling
her.
   "Beg for it, fuckface," he snarled.  "C'mon - I wanna hear you beg for
it."
   "Fuck me, daddie," she blurted spreading her legs apart on the
disheveled sheets, the little gold medallion on her ankle glinting in the
dim bedroom.  "Fuck the shit out of me - pleeeease - pleease!"
   "More.
   "Give it to me, daddy.  I beg you.  This is all I'm good for.  Use me.
Break me. I'm your fucktoy, daddy!  Fuck meee - Pleeease!?"
   He grabbed her thighs and lifted them and pushed them back, his steely
fingers gouging her tender skin, her knees up almost against her shoulders
and he put his engorged cock right up to his thirteen year old daughter's
shaved pussy mound, right to her red wet slit.  Her feet were on either
side of his head and he turned from one to the other to bite the soft
insteps and leave teethmarks on her skin.
   "You got it right,"he snorted angrily.  "This is all your good for.  The
only thing you'll ever be good for.  You're nothing but a fuckbag, bitch."
Then he pressed forward.  "Here I come you stinking little tramp....here I
come..."
   She felt his weight sinking into the mattress as his cock gouged into
her, filling her tight lovehole, and she welcomed him into her body as she
did every single day, as she'd done ever since he'd busted her little cunt
open and made her bleed on the sheets.  How old was she then?  Six?  Seven?
Before that he'd used his hard bony fingers to pierce and penetrate, front
and back.  She'd grown up with him always inside her - always using her -
verbally destroying her - always taking from her everything and leaving
nothing in return.  She had no clear memory of when it started or how. 
Father owned her insides.  He owned all of her.  Her soul too.  He made her
do whatever he wanted done and she couldn't refuse it, she couldn't say no.
She belonged to him completely.  Just like the little ones she watched him
kill.  People called this abuse and destruction.  For Ashley it was love.
Clear and unequivocal.  Unending and unchanging.  Beautiful and eternal.
   Absolute.
   "Did you think about me in school today?" he growled in her ear,
gripping her thighs tightly, keeping her wide open as he plowed and thrust
into her, stifling her breath and filling her.
   "Yes - oogghh Godd, yess - I think about you all the time, daddie - uhh
- About - ughh - about what you do to me - how you treat me -"
   "You haven't told anybody, have you, cunt?" The lamplight flickered in
his angry eyes.
   He thrust into her harder, more demandingly, so big and hard inside her.
   The gold medallion flopped around on the chain around her ankle.
   "Oghh - no!  No!  Daddy!  I would never do that!  Ughh!  Never!  Its
secret - uhh - secret - uhhnn - s-secret -"
   "You better fuckin' believe its secret you piece of shit.  I'll kill you
if you ever tell.  You hear me?  I'll fuckin' kill you."
   He slammed her into the bed fiercely.
   "Yess daddiee - I know you will - ughh - I know!"
   "You know.  You know.  You don't fuckin' know shit, you stupid worm. 
Just shut the fuck up and take what's coming to you.  I'm gonna pump you
full of cum and tonight we're going to the mall for meat.  You got it? 
Huh?"
   "Yess - yess sir - yess - yess - I love you - uhh - love you daddiee -"
   And then his hand gripped her neck and he began to strangle her.
   Her head swirling, almost passing out she felt the sweet ecstasy of
orgasm flood through her and her pussy squeezed hard against Father's
implacable cock.  Soon he began to grunt and bite his lip, then he smiled
and arched against her and he thrust the contents of his big balls into her
and he gave her his full weight crushing her against the bed.  When he
finished he slid out of her and shoved her off the side of the bed.  She
fell to the floor inertly and lay on her side his cum leaking out of her
slit, wetly glistening, sliding down her thigh and into the carpet.  She
lay there crying until he told her to shut up.  He stretched out on the bed
the rolled on to his side facing away from her.  She looked up at his
shoulders and the sloping curve of his hip feeling the love for him wash
over her then she rolled up in a little ball on the floor on top of her
disheveled clothes sobbing quietly, gradually less and less.
   Moments later both father and daughter were asleep, breathing evenly and
deeply.
   Out in the suburbs dusk faded into evening and the street lights came on
shortly after seven glowing faintly in the humid night, casting white pools
of light on the empty avenues.
   2.
   "That one," Father said nodding at the little girl in the playground
area.
   "She's real small," Ashley commented.
   "You know it.  Just what I'm looking for."
   Both watched from just inside Belk's, the department store at the
perimeter of the playground.  The mall was crowded.  Shoppers strode past
with packages or milled about the rows of birghtly-lit shops.
   "That's the momma," Father said, indicating a blonde woman in blouse and
jeans wearing track shoes.  "They're a perfect fucking pair."
   "You know what to do," Father said.
   Ashley knew what to do.  She'd done it many times before and it had
nearly always worked.  Once she'd had to run away, just like Father had
taught her to do when things went badly.  That time the woman hadn't bought
her story - had been suspicious - and Ashley just turned and ran.  Father
had been specially cruel to her for several nights afterwards.  But that
was understandable.  He got himself too worked up for the hunts and it was
hard for him to take a let-down. Whenever that happened Ashley resigned
herself to the fact that she would bear the full brunt of his rage.
   When they went on a hunt Father never chose the same mall twice so that
no one would remember them.
   They'd had to drive an hour and a half to get to this new mall.
   And it was now almost closing time.
   Ashley went out of Belk's through the swinging glass door and toward the
blonde woman who stood watching the little girl occasionally calling out to
the child when she strayed too far .
   The little one looked to be three or four.  Ashley felt her pulse race.
Her cunt was sore from the rape that afternoon and the smell and taste of
Father was all over her.
   They'd never taken one this small.  My God, Ashley thought.  She's a
baby.
   A beautiful baby, chubby cheeked, blue-eyed.  One of her little teeth
was missing right in the front and she had a little glittery red heart
pasted to her cheek.
   She was wearing a Winnie-The-Pooh t-shirt and red corduroy pants and
little white sandals.
   It wasn't hard for Ashley to summon the tears...maybe she was crying for
the victims...maybe for herself.  Or, fuck it, maybe she wasn't crying at
all .  She saw her father watching from inside the store as she moved
toward the child's mother.
   "M'am," she sobbed in the most pitiful voice she could muster.  "M'am
could you please help me?"
   The woman turned.
   Ashley saw it in her eyes.  This one's gonna fall for it, she thought.
   "What's the matter, honey?"
   "Its my mom," Ashley said.  "She's had an accident - in her car."
   Ashley held up her cell phone.
   "I just got a call from the police.  She was supposed to pick me up and
-"
   Ashley began to cry disconsolately.
   The woman moved toward her.
   "Oh my God," the woman said putting one arm around Ashley's shoulders.
   She smelled sweet.  Ashley's arm brushed against her breast.  The woman
was a grown up version of the child.  Sweet and gullible.
   "Don't worry, dear," the woman said.  "The police will come and get you
and take you to your mom."
   Ashley sobbed louder.  Some of the people passing by turned their heads.
   "No - they said she's - she's - hurt real bad and - she - and she - By
the time they get here and take me back she'll be -"
   She didn't have to finish instead she doubled over crying and dropped
the cell phone for effect.
   "Oh God," the woman repeated picking up the phone and handing it back to
Ashley.
   Ashley grabbed the sleeve of the woman's blouse.
   "Please take me to her.  Please.  I don't want to - if she - I mean - I
want to be there to say goodbye -"
   The woman looked at Ashley wide-eyed and hesitated only a moment.
   "Where is she?" the woman asked.
   "Valley General," Ashley responded.
   "That's almost forty five minutes."
   "I know," Ashley sobbed.
   "OK," the woman said.  "OK." and she turned to the little girl.
   "Tracey!  Come on Tracey - we're going."
   As the woman turned and led the way Ashley glanced at Belk's to check on
Father.  He was already on the move.
   Out in the parking lot Ashley was glad to see that the woman had parked
far enough from the stores that any possible detection by mall security
would be more difficult.  And this mall, like all the other ones Father
picked, had no cameras in the parking area.
   Tracey ran along held in mom's hand and she glanced furtively at Ashley
with her big blue eyes.
   "Where are we going, mommy?" the child asked.  The heart decal on her
cheek twinkled.
   "Never mind sweetie.  We're taking this young lady - I'm sorry miss,
what's your name?"
   The question almost caught Ashley off guard.  She had been looking at
Tracey's rosy little mouth and wondering what the child's lips would feel
like against her cunt.
   A car passed by searching for a spot.
   "Laurie," Ashley mumbled.  "Laurie Green."
   That was the name Father had given her, the one she would use until
things were under control.
   "We're taking Laurie somewhere for a minute," the woman said.  "My
name's Anne, by the way."
   Ashley nodded.
   They came to a white Lincoln finally and Anne moved to the driver's side
and reached into her purse for the keys.
   Just as she drew it out Father came up from between the two cars parked
opposite and adjacent to the white Lincoln.
   He put his gun to Anne's head.
   Ashley moved quickly and snatched the child away from beside her mother.
   The child squealed and Anne pressed her hand over the small mouth.
   So warm, small and moist.
   A look of startled terror ran across Anne's features.
   "Listen up, cunt," Father growled.  "Do what I say and you might just
see your kid alive again.  Do anything stupid - anything at all - and I'll
blow your fucking head off and then kill the child - you got it?"
   "Please," Anne said in a trembling voice.  "I don't have any money -"
   "Shut up.  I don't fucking want your money."
   Then he looked at Ashley.
   "Take the kid to the van."
   Ashley dragged Tracey away and Father followed pressing his gun into
Anne's side so that people wouldn't be able to see.
   They took mother and daughter to the white cargo van, which was parked
further out in the mall lot, and Ashley waited by the rear doors for
Father.
   Tracey struggled and cried trying to escape but Ashley was able to
control her.  Anyone driving by would think - older sister younger sister -
mom and dad.
   As Father walked Anne closer, Ashley saw a look of sullen anger in the
blonde's eyes.  The woman knew she'd been duped.
   "Don't hurt my baby," she pleaded.
   Father opened the rear doors of the van.
   "Shut up and get in."
   "Please," Anne said.
   "Do it."
   In the van Father took a crowbar and smashed it unexpectedly across
Anne's head.
   The woman fell in a heap.
   Tracey gave out a shrill scream but Ashley scooped her up and tossed the
child up into Father's arms then slammed both van doors shut.
   She looked around to see if anyone had noticed but there was no one
nearby.
   It took Father less than three minutes to bind and gag both victims
inside the van.
   Ashley stood by the side of the vehicle waiting and when Father came out
and closed the double doors he took her by her long dark hair and smeared
his lips on hers.
   "Good work, cunt," he said and she melted against him.  She felt so
small and lost in his big strong arms.
   "Do I please you, father?"
   He looked down at her.  Above him one of the parking lot sodium lights
glowed like liquid copper.
   "You disgust me," he said and pushed her away and toward the passenger
door of the van.
   They drove in silence until he turned off the highway and into the
narrow blacktop that ran into the woods and finally Father got out to open
the locked steel- bar barricade.  He pulled the van into the dirt road that
led to the cabin, then got out to lock the barricade behind them.
   Less than a mile from the cabin he pulled the van over again to the side
of the road.
   He took the gun from under his jacket and handed it to Ashley.
   It felt cold and heavy in her small hand.
   "I want to watch you kill mom," he said and then stepped out of the van.
   3.
   Ashley watched Father fuck the groaning woman by the side of the road.
   Her name was Anne Wiley.  Ashley saw it on the driver's license in the
woman's purse.
   Anne was attractive and slender with fat creamy housewife thighs and
plump breasts, and she had looked so incredibly vulnerable when Father had
ripped her clothes off.  They were still in the van and Anne had her hands
tied behind her and a big black ball gag stuffed in her mouth and her
blouse hung around her shoulders in tatters.  Father cut Anne's bra away
and ripped her jeans and panties down her legs.  Anne was bleeding and
woozy from the gash in her left temple where the crowbar had struck.  Blood
washed down her pretty face.  The woman's daughter Tracey was tied in a
hogtie and gagged with duct tape and she watched everything teary-eyed and
terror-frozen.
   Father had shoved the naked bitch out of the van and half dragged her to
the ground beside the road in front of the vehicle into the wash of light
from the van's headlights.  He'd left the van's engine running and smoke
and dust swirled around him as he unzipped his jeans and drew out his huge
cock.  He had stood over Anne jerking off.
   The woman had tried to get up and he kicked her gagged face with his
boot.
   She'd given out a choked scream and fallen back into the grass.
   "Come out here," Father told Ashley.  "I want you to watch."
   She'd stepped out of the van and stood there as he pounded Anne into the
ground, Father's gun in her hand.
   Ashley's pussy tingled and she thrust her other hand under the
waist-band of her jeans to finger herself.  She watched Father viciously
raping the stranger that less than an hour earlier had been willing to go
out of her way to help.
   Ashley looked down at Anne.  The blonde woman's head was down in the
grass stalks at the edge of the dirt road.
   That's what you get for kindness, bitch, Ashley thought.
   You lied to me,' Anne's eyes seemed to tell the thirteen year old.  You
tricked me.'
   Ashley was grinning malevontly.
   "Fuck her, daddy," the thirteen year old whispered, bending forward, her
hand moving under her jeans.  For Anne Wiley such terrible words coming
from the young girl's mouth were obscene beyond measure.  "Fuck the goddamn
shit out of her."
   Fathers face was fierce in the strange backlight from the van.
   Ashley watched him take out the hunting knife.
   "Yess, daddy,"Ashley moaned.  The thirteen year old needed to be naked.
In a rush she peeled off her t-shirt kicked off her sneakers and pulled
down her jeans and socks.  Still holding the gun she stood over the two
adults.  Father's fuckthrusts had moved the woman almost completely off the
road and into the tall grass now.
   Ashley leaned back against the van's grill.  It was warm against her
butt and again she began to finger herself.  She envied Anne.  She wished
Father was pounding into her like that.  Then she began rubbing herself
with the gun barrel, her heart pounding in her chest.  She didn't know if
Father had flicked off the safety or not.  Maybe if she wasn't careful she
would shoot herself. She wondered what that would feel like, the burning
blast ripping her little cunt to pieces.
   Father worked on the Anne Wiley bitch with the knife, patiently slicing
skin cuts all over the squealing victim's chest and belly, bringing the
serrated blade up to his mouth to lick the blood off it.  He pulled Anne's
legs up and sliced deeper cuts into her thighs and footsoles.  The streaks
of hot red blood looked lovely across the young woman's pale smooth flesh,
like dark mercury in the weird yellowish glow of the van's headlights. 
Tiny bits of it speckled the grass stalks.
   Ashley watched entranced as Father pulled his cock out and thrust the
knife into Anne's cunt.  The woman shrieked wildly, her cry muffled by the
ball gag then choke-gasped as Father yanked the knife out of her sex and
slid back into her.
   "I like to feel your blood on my cunt when I fuck it, scumbag," Father
told Anne, smiling down on her.  And then:
   "That's how I'm gonna take your baby."
   Anne shook her head wildly from side to side and kicked her bleeding
legs.
   "Yeah.  That's right.  I'm gonna make her bleed real nice first and then
I'm gonna shove my prick right into her little guts."
   Father's words made Ashley dizzy and her clit vibrated hotly.
   She squeezed her cunt in her hand and groaned, pushing back against the
growling idling van, her head against the lower rim of the windshield.
   She watched Father now lift each of Anne's plum-sized tits by the nipple
and slice them neatly off her chest.  His hips were thrusting powerfully
into the hysterical woman.
   "Get over here," he snarled at Ashley.
   As if in a dream the naked thirteen year old moved toward her father and
the woman on the grassy ground on her bare feet.  The rocks and gravel made
her take careful steps.  The night air seemed to be alive all around her,
the trees and grass buzzing with the chirp of crickets, the moon, half
full, peeping down through dark clouds, the van's motor a constant muted
droning behind her.  Down around her ankle her little medallion, proof of
Father's ownership, gleamed reflecting the van's headlights.
   "Blow her fucking head off," Father told her.  "Point the gun at her
forehead and let her have it, you hear me?"
   "Yes, sir."
   "Do it when I say.  I wanna fuck her while she dies."
   "Yesss."
   This was the first time Father had granted her such an important task.
   Anne's chest was smeared with blood and the woman's breasts lay on
either side of her on the ground, two bloody lumps of meaty flesh.  She
looked up at the young naked girl standing over her with the gun, her eyes
pleading, her lips forming unrecognizable words into the black ball gag
which was coated with white flecks of spittle.
   "Oh God, daddy," Ashley groaned passionately.  "Oh Jesus."
   "Shut up, bitch.  Concentrate.  Don't fuckin' lose it now.  Let's make
this one count."
   "May I cum, daddy?"
   "Absolutely not."
   "Pleease?"
   "You're going to kill this pig and then you're going to wait for me to
fuck your stupid face.  You're gonna suck my cock when I pull it out of her
dead fuckin' cunt.  You got it?"
   Ashley's mouth watered and she felt hot flashes moving up her belly.
   She nodded silently.
   Father was thrusting violently into Anne who babbled incoherently her
mouth stretched and deformed by the invasive rubber ball.
   Maybe she was pleading for her life or for her child's life.
   No one was listening.
   "Now," Father said.  "Do her now!"
   Ashley stepped up to Anne.  The woman's face was at Ashley's feet.
   The thirteen year old looked down right into the woman's horror-wide
eyes aimed the gun and slowly squeezed the trigger.
   The explosive discharge startled Ashley.  She felt it in her cunt.
   It wasn't the first time she'd used a gun.  Father had taught her not
long before.  They'd used a dead seven year old for target practice, a
pretty little Filipino with jet black hair Father had bound upside down by
her feet from a low tree branch and disemboweled.  It had felt good to pump
bullet after bullet into the small swaying lifeless body, to watch it
quiver with each smacking impact, to blast it to pieces, specially the
pretty oriental face.  Ashley had giggled as Father helped her aim at the
dangling carcass, his hard cock pressing against her shoulderblades, both
of them hot, sweaty and smeared with blood from the killing.  They'd
emptied two cartridges into the dead victim before Father had pulled Ashley
to the ground to fuck her on the carpet of wet muddy leaves.
   But killing the living blonde woman Anne was fiercely different for
Ashley. For some reason the gun sounded much louder in the darkness, its
flaring heat brighter and hotter, its kickback stronger and meaner.
   She was actually going to help me, Ashley thought triumphantly - she was
going to go out of her way for me - That more than anything thrilled her
wildly - killing someone who had shown her kindness.  It was almost as nice
as killing a child, an innocent.
   The top of Anne's head blew off like a smashed watermelon spraying
brains out on the grass and the road.
   Her blood sprayed Ashley and her father.
   "YE-eaahhh!" Father shouted gleefully, slam-fucking the headshot bitch.
   Smouldering dark smoke came up from Anne's shattered skull and her fat
thighs kicked out a couple of times and then collapsed on either side of
Father's hips.  A thick gulp of blood streamed from Anne's mouth under the
ball gag and the blonde's eyes rolled back in her head.
   Ashley slid down to her knees on the road and Father pulled out of the
dead woman and strode slowly to the thirteen year old.  He stood over his
daughter-slave.  His cock, beautifully erect, covered with slimy dark blood
gleamed like steel.
   In the van they could hear little Tracey's muffled screams.
   "Fuck my face, daddy -"Ashley said softly handing the smouldering gun
back to him.  "Choke me with your cock."
   Father took the gun from her and held it to her forehead.
   "Maybe I should do you too."
   "Do it if it pleases you, sir."
   "Start sucking, pig."
   Spattered with the blood of their kill father and daughter became one as
the moon slid out from under the clouds.
   Ashley loved the taste of him mixed with the dead woman.  He gripped her
small head keeping the gun's hot barrel against her temple and he thrust
himself past her throat hole.  Looking down at her bare feet he saw the
anklet and medallion.  His corrupt dominance over the child deeply excited
him.  He had made her a depraved accomplice in his sadistic slaughters.  A
fuckpuppet with no mind or will of her own.
   "Don't do anything," he told her.  "Put your hands down and just kneel
there with your mouth open for me."
   He leaned down and put the gun at his feet.
   Father's devout brainwashed fuckpuppet waited open and willing.
   He took her head in both his hands and slid his blood-smeared cock past
her eager lips.  Then he fucked her throat until it hurt.  He yanked her
down to the dirt, kicked her legs open and fucked her there violently in
the dusty puddle of Anne Wiley's blood.  He flipped her over on her belly
and put his cock to her poophole.  He pushed into her crudely picked up the
gun again to press the barrel to the back of her head.
   "Now cum for me, you worthless little shit," he told her as he pounded
into her.  "Cum for daddy!"
   The hard ground and rocks pressed into her belly and ribs and she
breathed dirt and dust as heat and tension flowed through her.  The woman
she'd just murdered lay a few feet away staring sightlessly up at the
stars, naked and beautiful and bloody.  Ashley's cunt became the focus of
the conflagration that swept her making her scream and sob and flail her
arms.  She felt the hard metal of the gun at the base of her skull and
imagined her head exploding like she'd just seen Anne's do.
   "Ghaaaa-aaaaa!" she shouted, her lips and cheeks smeared with dirt and
then she felt Father lean into her, his hand on her skull, gripping her
hair and pressing her face into the road muting her screams of pleasure.
   "FFUCCKKK!" he shouted.  "GODDAMNNN CUNNNTTTT!"
   She heard the gun go off next to her ear and the bullet ricocheted off
the ground and whizzed into the darkness ripping noisily through branches
and leaves.
   Spent and deafened she lay there as Father got to his feet.
   The engine of the van idled quietly behind him.
   He picked up Ashley's clothes and tossed them into the vehicle through
the passenger's side window.  Then he dragged Anne's carcass into the
woods.
   Ashley heard him thrashing through the underbrush and cursing and she
rose slowly and went to the van.  She opened the rear doors and looked in
on the child.
   Tracey had crumpled up into a fetal position, her wrists tied behind
her, ankles bound together.  She was sobbing hysterically, shaking and
babbling.
   Still woozy, her ears ringing, her cunt and ass sore from Father's
savage fuck, Ashley reached into the van and dragged Tracey out by her
bound ankles dumping the hysterical baby victim on the ground behind the
van.
   She could make out the word the tyke kept repeating over and over into
the strip of duct tape that kept her lips together.
   "Muhhmaa - muhhmaa - muhhmaaa -"
   "Your momma's not coming back, bitch," Ashley said cruelly.
   Then she crouched over the infant, back arched, head tossed back
defiantly and she smiled as her bladder let go.  She directed the gushing
flow of urine on the child's adorable face, on the little heart decal on
her cheek, and then on to the shirt and the smiling face of Winnie the
Pooh.
   It felt blissfully wonderful to piss on the helpless victim.
   "Momma's NEVER coming back," Ashley hissed and as she finished pissing
she crouched lower to press her pussy against the child's cute face.
   So soft and warm.
   Ashley gripped the child by her hair to hold her head still.
   Tracey continued to whine for her dead mother as Ashley smeared her
piss-wet pussy lips on the child's cheeks and forehead.
   "Shut up, bitch," Ashley snarled.  "Shut the fuck up!"
   The child trembled consumed by fear, going immediately silent, lovely
blue eyes unnaturally wide.
   Ashley peeled the strip of duct tape off the child's lips.
   The erotically aroused thirteen year old remembered wondering earlier
what it would feel like to rub her cunt against that little face and
specially on that little puckered mouth and now she began to do it,
smiling, eyes fluttering, pupils dilated, like an addict getting a fix.
   Little Tracey's mouth felt just as she'd imagined it would feel between
the dripping labia of Ashley's throbbing womanmeat.
   Heavenly.
   4.
   "Goddamn," Father said softly.  "This is one beautiful fuckin' piece of
babymeat."
   And she was too.
   Ashley had held the child's wrists behind her while Father cut her
clothes away with his hunting knife.
   They had brought her to the shack.
   Father had switched on the lights.  The AC unit in the window hummed
quietly.  Bugs ran skittering off the ramshackle porch as he'd opened the
door and carried the piss-soaked baby from the van into the shack.
   There was only one large room.  Two rusty chain strands hung from bolts
in the woodbeams in the ceiling.  Four strands of thick rope.  There was an
old wooden table with manacles on it.  A car battery and wires. And there
was a wooden crate where Father kept his favorite toys.
   Naked, Father had buckled the black leather strap around his waist.  The
hunting knife in its sheath rode against his hipbone.
   Now Ashley, naked and with a big black dildo strapped around her waist
and against her crotch held little Tracey for Father's unsheathed knife.
   From an ID card of the child they'd found in Anne's purse they knew that
the child was four, halfway to her fifth birthday in November.
   Father leaned down and sliced through the straps of Tracey's little
sandals to tear the tiny shoes off her feet.
   The child instantly began pleading and sobbing.
   Father smiled.
   He punched the toddler in the stomach making her stop bleating
momentarily.
   "I'm gonna hurt this little piglet, Ashley.  I'm gonna hurt her as much
as I can.  But first I want you to open her up for me.  I want you to fuck
her ok?  I'll hold her down for you and you put that dildo up her tiny
peepee as far as you can.  Fuck the goddamn shit out of her."
   "Yes, daddy."
   He punched the child again, hard, sheathed his knife and took the
toddler from Ashley hoisting her up effortlessly on to the table and
stretching her out on her back.
   Tracey kept squirming and kicking her legs, twisting her lower body from
side to side, as Ashley climbed up on the big wooden table over her the
black rubber cock cleaving the air in front of her.
   "Stop it!" Ashley shouted angrily slapping the four year old hard across
the face.  "Quit moving around!"
   Ashley grabbed the child's ankles and lifted her small legs up and back
to position the fat dildo against the creamy chubby slit.
   "No!  Nooo!" Tracey squealed struggling against the older girl.  "Don't!
Don't!"
   Ashley gripped the four year old's ankles hard and pushed the tip of the
black silicone cock into the hairless mound of babymeat.  The thirteen year
old could feel the heat of the overhead lamp that dangled from the ceiling
by an electrical cord on her back and the sighing cool breeze from the air
conditioner on her sides and legs.
   Father smiled and licked his lips holding the little one's arms back and
wide apart against the dirty surface of the big table.  He liked the little
heart decal on her cheek.  He liked her gap-toothed smile.  Tracey Wiley
was a real treasure.  It was going to be a beautiful kill.
   "Put that thing in er," he said softly.  "Put it deep in there."
   "I will, daddy - I will," Ashley replied breathlessly looking up at him,
leaning forward to kiss him on the lips.  It was a tender kiss.  Father
licked her warm mouth and she cupped his thick tongue and their faces came
softly together as Tracey wriggled and whined helplessly between them. 
Then Ashley pulled away and looked down at the sobbing toddler her eyes
going hard.
   "Ashley's gonna hurt little Tracey," she said meanly.  "Gonna hurt you
real bad."
   The child's mouth shaped a small circle as she protested and then the
small circle went wide as Ashley thrust forward cramming the hard black
dildo into the impossibly small opening at the base of Tracey's infantile
slit.  The thirteen year old pulled the infant girl's legs wide apart as
she leaned down pressing her mons against the base of the dildo shaft to
squeeze it inward.  She wished she had a big cock - a big black hard cock -
like the one strapped to her - so that she could feel the pressure of the
child's small vagina against it.  She wished she had Father's beautiful
mancock to fill the little angel cunt with.  She knew that soon Father's
cock would replace the black dildo. She was opening the little bitch up for
him, making way for Father and it pleased her.  She leaned down, hawked up
a wad of phlegm and spat into Tracey's screaming mouth.  A bit of sputum
streaked over the red heart decal on Tracey's cheek.  The child gurgled and
gasped and looked up with terror her eyes going from Father to daughter as
Ashley's hips bounced and thrust driving the dildo deeper.
   "What are you lookin' at?" Ashley shouted.  "Huh?  What are you lookin'
at you stupid little shit.  Uhhh!  Take what I give you.  Take it!"
   "Is this how you fuck me daddy?" Ashley moaned after a few moments
looking up at Father.
   "Uhh - like this?  Uhh!  Like this?"
   "Yeahh," he grunted.  "That's right.  That's how I do you you stupid
fuck. Just like that.  Slam it in there.  You killed the momma now make the
little pig bleed."
   Ashley moaned and closed her eyes.  She flashed back on the killing of
the child's mother.  She'd felt that gun blast all the way up in her young
womb.  Her pussy had thrilled to it and now again it throbbed and quivered
with moist heat at the sound of Tracey's squealing protests.  I killed your
mother and now I'm raping you,' Ashley thought as she peered through
slitted eyes down at her victim.  I'm a murderer and a rapist - just like
Father.'
   But only a quarter of the dildo had gone in.  A tiny droplet of blood
was rolling down into the child's anus and between her asscheeks.
   "You gotta give er more, fuckface," father spat.  "Fuck er harder.  Make
the little bitch pay."
   Punishingly Ashley put her whole weight against the dildo shaft as she
drew Tracey's legs as far open as they would go.  The child's feet wriggled
and her blonde head thumped against the table.
   "That's more like it," Father grunted encouragingly.
   What would her friends in school think if they saw this?  Ashley mused.
   What would Mr.Simmons the principal think of her then?  Or Mrs. 
Langford, the English teacher?  She imagined the look of blank horror on
their stupid faces as she plowed mercilessly into the toddler.
   "Take - it - ALL -" Ashley snarled fiercely grinding her teeth.
   Father's fingers dug into Tracey's wrists and Ashley could see the
baby's skin darkly red and discolored.  The thirteen year old tightened her
own grip on the child's ankles and bore down.
   Tracey's cries went high and shrill as the black dildo sank deeper
tearing open her virgin sexhole and probing painfully against the wall of
her undeveloped uterus.  Her ripped hymen bled and lubricated the black
shaft.
   This was not the first baby Father had made Ashley fuck.  There had been
many already.  If Ashley closed her eyes she could remember some of them.
   She did close her eyes for a moment as she ground her hips against the
dildo and she smiled with the memories.
   The four year old's sheer horror and blameless terror were evident on
her face and both Ashley and her father were highly aroused by it.  This
crude violent aberrant kiddie rape was an act of barbarity and atrocious
inhumanity - so beautiful and somehow so incredibly necessary.  Father and
daughter kissed again feverishly and passionately as the violated infant
shrieked in mindless agony.
   Ashley liked the way the babies screamed when she fucked them.
   She really really liked that.
   Loved it, in fact.
   She loved it mostly because she knew Father loved it too.
   When the dildo was almost hilted in Tracey's small cuntslit Father told
Ashley to pull it out.
   Slowly she obeyed and the shaft came up out of the toddler smeared with
blood and mucous.
   Then Father told her to slam it in again and she did going deeper and
watching Tracey's screaming face and pleading eyes.
   So pretty.
   Again Father instructed her to pull out.
   This time, as Ashley looked up smiling Father unexpectedly hauled back
and punched his thirteen year old daughter in the face.
   Ashley went careening off the table to the floor as Father came around
the table lifting the wriggling toddler upward slipping her small bruised
wrists into small leather manacles that dangled from one of the rusty chain
strands to suspend the diminutive victim in mid air.
   Ashley's eyes brimmed with tears and blood spilled from her lip as she
looked up and watched him.  He'd caught her by surprise and her jaw ached
from the blow.
   "Get up here," he snarled.  "I'm gonna fuck her.  I want you on your
knees under us.  Now!  Right here.  No.  Here, dumb ass." He grabbed Ashley
by her shoulders and maneuvered her into position facing him.  The rubber
dildo hung uselessly between her spread thighs propped against the wooden
slats of the floor.  "Get your mouth on my balls and start licking,
pigface," Father intoned lifting Tracey's ankles up in his strong hands.
   How could she have ever imagined herself like him.  He was so much more
overpowering, masterful.
   The child's limbs looked tiny in his grip, much smaller than they'd
looked in Ashley's.
   Father put his cock to Tracey's violated pussyhole as a thick drop of
blood spilled from it and spattered Ashley's forehead right between her
eyes as she stared upward.
   Ashley leaned forward and cupped Father's genital bags.  His power and
strength deserved and demanded her abject service.
   "Ughhh," she moaned as she began to flail her tongue against Father's
swollen balls.
   "Yeahh -"Father grunted.
   Ashley couldn't see his face but she imagined the grinning predatorial
expression that must be there as his legs moved slightly apart and he
brought Tracey toward him gradually.
   The child began to scream and squeal as Father's cock pushed into her,
bigger, harder than the dildo.
   That must feel like heaven, Ashley thought - to put your cock in a baby
like that - and she licked lovingly tasting Father, tasting her own blood
and the blood of the child which now ran down Father's shaft toward her
lips.
   Father had hung Ashley up just like he had Tracey now.  She'd been
fucked like that.  She knew how much it hurt but she envied Tracey just as
she'd envied Anne.  Ashley wished it was her dangling from the ceiling for
Father's big cock. She wanted Father's big cock, his unfathomable power and
cruelty only for herself and no one else.  But she knew that could never
be.
   "Lick it as it goes in and out," Father instructed.  "Ahh - yeaaa -
that's it.  Uhh - goddamn - lick her little pussy - uu - uu - yeah - I feel
it close on me when you do that - keep doin' it.  She's so tight.  Just
like you used to be.  Yeahh - yeahh you little rabbitt-cunt - squeeze on me
- uu - ahhh -" Father leaned forward and spat the words into Tracey's
innocent face - "We killed your fuckin' momma bitch and we're gonna kill
you - yess - yess we are..." Then he barked down at Ashley: "Keep licking,
fuckface!" Spreading his legs a little further apart. "C'mon - get up in
there - lick my asshole - put your fingers in me - you know how I like it.
Ahhh reeeal nice.  Reeal nice.  Put your finger up her too. Yess!  Goddamn
she squeezes me every fuckin' time you do that.  Lick er. Put your finger
up her little ass.  Rub my cock.  Ahh yeahh - yeahh - yeahh -"
   Ashley moaned excitedly using both her hands to please Father and to
probe Tracey.  The baby's warm violated pussy bled as it pressed against
Ashley's forehead when Ashley pressed her eager lips against Father's
scrotum. Tracey's blood ran into Ashley's disheveled hair and peppered her
shoulders and trickled down her hands and arms.
   Father hauled back and punched the dangling blonde child in the mouth,
smashing two more of her front teeth out.  He punched her again and Tracey
spat up blood and bawled screechingly.
   "Hurt her, daddy," Ashley hissed teasing Father's balls with her
fingers, sticking the digits of one hand up into his anus, and the digits
of the other into Tracey's.  " -Oh God - hurt er fuck er hurter fuck er
hurt er fuck er -"
   Father had spoken words similar to the ones that had raced through
Ashley's mind as she'd raped Tracey - We killed your momma and now we're
gonna kill you' - Brutal heartless words that spun in Ashley's head like a
mantra.  The words seemed to vibrate right on Ashley's little clit.  Father
was so cruel - so terribly and impossibly cruel.  Ashley remembered that
Father had killed her own momma.  In fact he'd shown her polaroid pictures
of it.  Beautiful bloody pictures.  He kept them in the drawer of the
bedside table and would sometimes show them to her before he fucked her at
night.
   "This is how you're gonna end up, sweetie" he would tell her as he
stroked her little wet pussy-slit, holding the pictures in front of her for
her to see.  " - yeah - just like this..."
   Mother had been cut to pieces...
   Father punched the child three more times in the face, almost knocking
her out then he reached for his knife which was sheathed on the strap
buckled around his waist.  He took one step back, pulled out of Tracey
Wiley and violently thrust the blade tip into her violated pussy, to open
her little cunthole wide, just as he'd promised the baby's mother he'd do.
   Tracey shrieked and threw her head back and shook it from side to side
and kicked out her one free leg, the one Father had released to get his
knife..
   I like to feel your blood on my cunt when I fuck you,' Ashley remembered
him saying to the blonde bitch lying on the grass off the dirt road. 
Ashley loved the wet sound Father's knife made as he withdrew it from the
baby's twat.  That's how I'm gonna take your baby', he'd said.
   Father seldom failed to live up to his words.
   Sheathing his bloody blade he stepped back up to Tracey, lifting his
cock up to her bleeding vagina.  Ashley watched from underneath as Father's
fat erection slid effortlessly three quarters of the way into the four year
old.  The child screamed and writhed trying fruitlessly to pull her wrists
from the firm grip of the leather manacles above her, making the chain
rattle against the metal hook in the shack's ceiling, trying to pull her
legs out of Father's strong grip.  Father began to fuck the dangling
toddler seriously by pulling her against him and pushing her away, jerking
himself off with her rent violated cunthole thrusting deeper each time he
drew her to him, stabbing deep into her with his manshaft, taking full
advantage of the exploratory cut made by his hunting blade, while Ashley
licked and caressed and probed at both Father and victim taking the
killer's pleasure to a fever pitch, Tracey's warm blood speckling her
cheeks and trickling down her disheveled hair.
   "I need to whip both of you," Father grunted hoarsely still fucking the
child brutally as he spoke.
   His words made Ashley's pulse race insanely.  He had taught her to love
the way whipping pain felt and she realized she was so worked up that she
needed it desperately.  She needed to be beaten.  She wanted and needed to
hurt for him to hang there and take that for him.
   "Oh yess daddy," she groaned weakly.  "Do it.  Do it.  Do it."
   He stepped back releasing Tracey and sliding out of her violated pussy
The toothless toddler hung in midair weeping, occasionally hoisting one or
both legs up toward her belly as her little cunt oozed slimy blood to the
floor.
   Outside thunder rumbled in the distance.
   Ashley stared up at her father worshipfully.
   "Make love to me with your mouth first," he told her stepping up to her.
"Make me real hard before I whip you both."
   Worldlessly Ashley reached up for his erect shaft as she rose up on her
knees.
   "No," he said sternly.  "Don't touch me.  Keep your hands behind you."
   She obeyed and waited there as before, as always for him, open-mouthed.
   His devout worshipful martyr.
   He took a step toward her, grabbed her hair with one hand and slid into
her lips.
   By the time thunder rumbled again, now closer, and rain began to spatter
on the roof of the shaft Ashley was choking on him, taking as much of him
as she could, looking up at him with hungry desperate love.
   "I'm gonna beat the goddamn shit out of you, pig," Father snarled.
   "Ghhmmm," Ashely moaned her eyes cloudy with tears.
   5.
   After removing the blood-smeared strap-on dildo from Ashley the killer
hung both nude children up by their ankles.  That's the way he liked it
best for the beatings - bare raw meat on display in the slaughterhouse.
   The differences between the two victims made a pleasant contrast - his
daughter, dark brown haired, full figured if still a bit coltish and the
fair-haired child captured at the mall, much smaller and undeveloped - flat
chested as opposed to Ashley whose little baby-titties were already
pear-sized handfuls, cherry capped and erect.  The little one's body was
very shapely, with a plump round ass and limbs that were quite
proportionate for such a small child.  Tracey had the prettiest little
hands and feet too, like a doll's, different from Ashley's which were more
developed, slightly oversized in relationship to her arms and legs.  Both
children were free of pubic hair and both their bodies glistened under the
harsh light of the dangling lamp with a sheen of sweat and spattered blood.
The heart decal on Tracey's cheek glimmered as did the small gold medallion
around Ashley's ankle which had slid down below the leather cuff around the
thirteen year old's leg.
   Outside the rain pounded against the shuttered windows.
   Tracey was crying fitfully.  Her babbling and begging now came less
often between sobs but it was still heart-rending.  Her lips were slightly
swollen and disfigured and blood trickled from them and down her chin.
   Ashley hung in stoic silence, eyes closed.
   She wished the baby would shut up.  All the fussing would mean nothing
to Father.  It would in fact make what was coming worse.
   The killer had tied both children's wrists to their upper thighs, arms
pressed to their sides.  This position would leave them open and vulnerable
to his flailing lash or whatever weapon he chose from any angle or vantage
point.  They hung in the middle of the large room, manes of hair unfurled
like inverted flames, and there was plenty of space to swing a lash or draw
a full three hundred and sixty arc for the swat of a cane, rod or club.
   He looked in the wooden crate which rested against the wall for an
appropiate weapon.
   He was extremely aroused and he wanted to beat both young victims to
blood.
   He had vaguely considered the consequences with Ashley - he would have
to keep her home for a while if the marks were real bad.  He'd done it
before.  As the little whore got older she excited him more and more.  One
day she'll not be going back to school, he thought.  One day he'd finish
her the way he'd finished the mother.  Maybe this was the day.  Maybe
things would get out of hand on this stormy night.  He hated his daughter
the way he hated all females, but more intensely and more personally.  He
hated Ashley so much he hadn't been able to bring himself to finish her. 
He needed to keep using her, destroying her - he had turned her into a
slave - wiped out her innocence - turned her into a sick vile thing with no
heart or soul - a female child-thing that only longed to please his every
whim - to obey every command he gave her - and now to help him kidnap,
torture and kill other children.
   As thunder clapped loudly nearby the ground shook.
   Yeahh, Father thought to himself.  The wrath of the storm mirrored the
savagery which raged inside him.  Things were definitely going to get out
of hand tonight.  Way the fuck out of hand...
   Tracey whimpered.
   The killer smiled and picked up the single-tail bullwhip.
   This night was gonna be special.  Full of fierce violence.
   It had been nice to let Ashley kill the baby's mother.  The woman's cunt
had gripped him for dear life when Ashley had blown her head off.  His
balls tightened and he almost came thinking about it but he held back and
turned to his victims, the whip-tongue slithering on the floor beside him
as he moved toward them.
   Ashley opened her eyes and saw Father upside down across the room.
   Lightning flashed through the shutters as he lifted the whip off the
floor.
   Father looked right at her.
   "Count for me, bitch," he said, his voice cold and restrained.
   "Yes, daddy," she replied softly.
   The killer had a quick vision of the woman he'd raped a couple of hours
earlier out on the road to the cabin - Anne - Tracey's mother - lying in
the forest dead, staring up at the sky, rain spattering her pale face, her
blonde hair tangled with leaves and twigs and blood from the black bullet
wound almost in the center of her forehead.
   He knew he'd have to go out there later, maybe take Ashley with him, if
the little cunt was still alive - maybe it would be raining when he slid
his cock into dead whorecunt, fucking the lifeless blonde slut under the
pelting raindrops, pressing her into the cold wet earth - by then she would
probably be already hopelessly stiff. Maybe he would take the child too. 
Yes.  That would be nice.  Real fucking nice.  A real nice outdoor scene -
one to remember for sure.
   The lash whooshed as it swung.
   It struck with a dry loud whapp against Ashley's belly.
   She screamed with pain, her suspended body recoiling, stiffening and
then recovering after a moment.
   "One," she whimpered.  "Thank you sir"
   "Slutt!" the killer growled and swung the lash again hatefully.
   Ashley obediently counted each blow of the lash regardless of whether it
landed on her or on Tracey, always remembering to add the obligatory thank
you sir, as she had been taught, but as time went on it got harder to keep
count or even to form the words at all.
   When the lash came for her Ashley gave herself to the pain, let it burn
through her and make her scream and cry.  And when it came for Tracey she
watched the four year old scream and twist and jerk around.  Father was
good with the whip and he landed sharp severe cuts across the front of the
toddler's body from her small pink nipples to her belly, all parallel, neat
slash lines, dark crimson, like Christmas ribbons.  With Ashley he
concentrated on belly and thighs, now and then making the hard uncoiled
leather tear at his daughter's mons.
   Both children hung with their legs wide apart, their ankles secured in
tight leather cuffs to spreader bars hooked to the dangling chainstrands.
This allowed the beaten naked girlbodies to spin in response to the savage
whipstrokes, sometimes turning in the same direction other times in
opposite directions, like swinging flesh pi¤atas.
   Father took time between blows to stroke his cock and study the progress
of the flogging.
   He whipped both children across their buttocks.
   The little blonde piglet cherub was in a rictus of pain from the beating
and he enjoyed putting more and more hurt on her, swinging harder and
harder, enjoying Ashley's breathy enunciation of the stroke numbers as he
decimated both victims.
   He would sometimes move in to rub his cock on both girls' welted bodies,
on the blood trickles that spilled from Tracey's babycunt down her whipped
belly and chest - on each welt - on Ashley's hotly welted belly and thighs
- bending down to rub it on his daughter's cheeks painting her with
Tracey's blood.
   "Ahh, daddiee," Ashley would moan enveloped in the heat of her beaten
flesh.
   Father knew the little bitch loved pain.  She could take lots of it. 
But however much she could take he was going to go well past her limits
tonight - far past them.
   He stepped back to whip both children some more.
   He whipped their thighs and calves with sharp stinging slashes
intermittently attacking the soft vulnerable fuckmeat between their legs.
And after a while he focused his attack there until both girls screamed and
wept, babbling and shrieking senselessly, Ashley no longer keeping count.
   He kept on until he began to draw blood, not just from their beaten
pussies but from wherever he could score slashweals on them.
   He took aim on Tracey's cherubic face putting several wicked cuts across
the toothless toddler's baby cheeks, almost taking out one of her eyes with
one vicious cut.
   He tore at Ashley's back with savage ferocity until his daughter pleaded
for him to stop.
   He didn't, of course, shifting his attack instead to Ashley's ankles and
kneehollows, until trickles of blood ran diffusely down her slender legs.
   "You wanted it?  Here it is, pig."
   After nearly an hour and with some difficulty he managed somehow to halt
the beating.
   The storm outside rattled the shack and swept the trees in the forest.
   He needed more.
   He needed to hurt the baby.
   Ashley watched him through tear-blurred eyes as he brought the car
battery over and positioned it beside Tracey.  She watched him hooking up
the cables.
   "Ohh yess, daddy," she groaned.  "Yesss."
   He stretched one cable up to the four year old's ravaged blood-smeared
pussy, taking one of her little bruised labia, tweaking it up to grip it
with the black alligator clip.  Tracey groaned and squirmed.  Then he took
the other wire and touched the red clip against the child's belly.  A
buzzing spark leaped from the end of the wire and Tracey gave out a loud
broken squeal.
   Carefully avoiding contact with Tracey's dangling body Father opened the
red alligator clip wide, pressed it into the four year old's chest and
gripped the nipple in the clip's sharp teeth as sparks flew and Tracey
shook and kicked in agonized spasms.
   Smiling he stepped back and watched Tracey suffer slowly jerking off as
the child danced to the electrical torment shrieking and babbling, bloody
mucous and spittle foaming from her lips and nostrils.
   Then he strode back to the other end of the room.
   He reached into the crate for the long slender wooden rod.
   "Awww Godd daddieeee," Ashley wailed when she saw him coming.
   His eyes were like black coals in his head.
   "- oh Godd - oh Godd - oh Godd -"
   A sudden jolt of lightning followed by explosive thunder made the
overhead bulbs flicker and go out and the air conditioner sputtered into
silence.
   The killer waited for his eyes to adjust.  The shadowy room was lit
sporadically by the flashing storm outside, a haze of white light that
poured in through the slats of the shutters, and by the dance of blue
sparks over the front of Tracey's contorting body.
   "Shit - daddy - not the rod - daddy - not the rod!" Ashley pled.
   Tracey whined something that sounded like pleeeeeeze', her jaw rattling,
her hair frizzing up.
   Father let the electricity torch through the baby for a few more moments
then he yanked the alligator clips free.  Tracey hung still jerking around
as if the torment had not ended.  Her nipple and labia had been charred
black.
   " - not the rod -" Ashley moaned weakly.
   "You told me you loved me, cunt.  So take the pain for me and quit
bitching."
   In the intermittent darkness Father grinned, stepped forward and he
began to swing the wooden rod into the dangling children.
   The sound of hard wood splattering into beaten girlmeat seemed more
obscene in the flickering darkness.  The killer loved it.  The blows stung
and bruised the two punished girls and started them spinning again.
   He's going to kill us both', Ashley thought as the sharp hard wood
smacked loudly into her knees and sent hard pain right into her bones and
up her spine.
   She screamed with all her strenghth arching her back.
   I'm going to die like this.'
   She heard the swats of wood now directed against Tracey, heard a muffled
crunch and a shrill cry from the toddler, heard the creaking swinging
chain, heard her father's grunts of pleasure.  A flash of lightning
revealed his predatorial face as he turned toward her.
   She knew it would be useless to beg.
   If this is what he wanted this is the way it would end.
   Whapp!  WHUFFFF!
   The hard wooden cane exploded into her belly, and swatted into her cunt.
   Slasshh!  WHAPPP!
   "Awgg Godd - daddieeee - aghhhhh!"
   She had seen him like this only once before - the time he'd broken her
arm.
   Caught in a sudden flash of lightning the image of him, cock in one
hand, blood-spattered wooden rod in the other filled her with an
astonishing surge of love - then the cane swung and cracked against the
back of her skull and everything seemed to spin and fade.
   She saw him turn and swing the cane viciously across Tracey's blonde
head, heard the toddler's gurgling screams stop suddenly, after two blows,
saw the child spin around dangling, bloody, slashed and welted, face
grimacing, blood pouring from her nostrils, toothless mouth wide, eyes
rolling up into the skull, a flow of urine suddenly churning from her
bloody sexslit and then silence and darkness...
   6.
   Shluuff - shluufff - shluufff -
   The slick sound was the first thing Ashley became aware of.
   Shluuuff - shluuff -
   Wet, slick, sound, rhythmic and the creaking table.
   She opened her eyes.
   The lights had come back on and the air conditioning was humming.
   She felt cold.  She hurt all over.  Her skull ached.  The whole back of
her head.  Her body burned feverishly.
   Shluuff - shluff -
   A pale light glowed outside the shuttered windows and the storm had died
away.  It was probably almost morning.
   Between each moist wet sound: Father's hard grunting breaths.
   Ashley realized she was lying on the floor face down, hands still bound
to her sides.  She was facing the wall and she moaned as she turned her
head to look in the opposite direction.
   Father had Tracey draped over the table on her stomach.  The infant's
ankles were tied to the table's legs on either side.  Her wrists were
possibly roped together to a strand that went across the tabletop to the
opposite side but Ashley wasn't sure because all she could see was the
other end of that rope strand knotted to one of the legposts.
   In fact, from where she lay Ashley couldn't see the top of Tracey's body
at all, only the toddler's small legs, covered with purple-reddish welts
and dark bluish bruises, her beaten rump, and Father standing behind her,
his cock plunging between her plump little buttcheeks in and out of her
bleeding anus.
   Shluuff - shluuff - it was the sound of Father's rampant cock slithering
in and out of the motionless child, covered with faeces-smeared blood.
   The killer continued to pump his hips mechanically into the bound child
before him, his head thrown back, eyes closed, his hands on his hips, arms
akimbo.
   Ashley wondered if he had used his knife on little Tracey's asshole.
   "Is she d-dead?" Ashley asked looking up at Father.
   He seemed to wake from a trance as he looked down at her but his hips
continued to thrust in and out.
   Ashley knew Father liked to fuck the babies when they were dead.
   "No - not yet - unnhh -"
   His eyes were dull with pleasure, slitted.
   "I wanted to kill you both," he said.
   Shluufff - shlufff -
   "...still do..."
   A dull pain moved through Ashley's skull and her vision blurred.
   "Why didn't you?" she asked.
   She liked the way his hips looked thrusting and pumping like a powerful
unstoppable stallion.
   "Want to take my time," he said closing his eyes and tipping his head
back again.  "Take my sweet fucking time...  want to make this one
count..."
   Shluff - shluuff -
   Ashley looked down at herself.  Her legs were beaten and bruised just
like Tracey's.  One knee was oddly swollen and she hurt inside.  She also
felt hot soreness inside her anus and in her pussy - Slowly she rolled over
on her back. She was covered with bruises and welts and she groaned as her
whipped back and asscheeks pressed against the floor.
   "I fucked you while you were out," Father said.  "It was nice...I let
you both down and fucked you on the floor and then the lights came back on
and I put her up on the table..."
   Shluuff - shluuff -
   Ashley felt a hot quiver in her abdomen.
   "I gave er a little more of the battery too - put the clips on her ears
- probably fried her fuckin' brain..."
   "Are you going to cum in her?" Ashley asked.
   "No.  I was just warming up on her - waiting for you to wake up."
   He looked down at her.
   "Can you get up on your knees?"
   "I think so."
   "Do it for me."
   For him she would do anything.  She struggled to twist her aching legs
under her as she somehow lifted herself up off the floor, her hands
rope-snagged against her hip bones.
   "Don't get all the way up - Come to me like that - on your knees," he
told her.
   She began to move awkardly across the room, her senses swimming, slivers
of pain like hot needles riffing up her legs to her back.
   "Oww -" she groaned.  " - oww -"
   As the glaze of unconsciousness lifted more and more the pain was
clearer and more distinct.  The wooden club had swatted into her kidneys
and into her belly and those areas seemed to be pulsing dully.  She moved
uncertainly toward him watching him continue to plunge his massive cock in
and out of Tracey's ravaged shithole, moving closer to the slick sound that
she'd awoken to and now the smell of the plundered child.
   He pulled his cock out of the toddler and aimed it at his daughter's
face.
   "Lick," he ordered.  "Lick me clean."
   Without hesitation she dipped her head forward and began to lick the
blood and faeces from his erect flesh-spear.  The nasty coppery taste and
the sour stink gagged her but she looked up at him fawningly and continued
to stroke him with her tongue until the task was completed.
   He stood over her for a moment and then his hand swung viciously across
her face.
   "Dirtbag," he spat as he slapped her.
   She toppled in the direction of the blow, lifted off her knees, giving
out a short high-pitched cry as her head banged against the edge of the
table before she fell to the floor.
   "Get up," he roared.
   It took everything she had to obey him.  As she pulled herself back up
on her knees bitter bile flushed up into her mouth and she puked on her
beaten thighs.
   He yanked her head up by her hair and slapped her again this time
sending her in the opposite direction into the middle of the room.
   She lay on her back dazed looking up into the dangling lamp above as the
light of morning began to flood into the room.
   "Get up," he said in the same brutal tone of voice.  "I need to give you
more."
   "Y-yes - daddie -" she whimpered.
   This time when she was tottering on her knees he bent down slightly and
slammed his fist into her belly.  She staggered forward with a choked cry
into him and he grabbed her by her hair and spun her into the wall.  She
slammed into the dirty stucco face first with a grunt and spilled to the
floor.
   He leaned down, hauled her up by her hair and punched her in the face.
   Her head ping ponged back off the window ledge and she crumpled to the
floor at his feet.
   He kicked her on her back.
   Then he was straddling her and sliding down to sit on her face, pressing
his asshole against her blood-filled mouth and nose.  She gasped for air
and he just sat on her stroking himself.  Before she could pass out again
he leaned down, knelt on the floor, went on all fours on top of her and
dipped down to eat her pussy.
   She spread her legs wide for him sobbing with pleasure, her head reeling
as he nibbled and bit at her tender labia and at her clit, his cock pressed
into her whipped chest.  She choked as bile and vomit pushed up her
esophagus and out her nostrils.  Then she screamed wildly as he opened his
mouth to encompass her whole hairless cuntmount and sank his teeth hard
into her soft rod-slashed fuckmeat.  He held his teeth clamped on her for
three long minutes growling as she squirmed under him, tasting the blood
that flooded into his mouth and dripped down his chin and lips.  Then he
spun her over on her belly and pulled her legs open to go on his knees to
push his cock into her asshole.
   "Feel it, bitch," he growled angrily.  "Feel your Father inside you."
   As he brutally and heedlessly sodomized Ashley he grabbed her head by
her hair and slammed her face against the floor again and again until more
blood exploded from her nose and lips.
   It felt like he was going to rip her apart inside.
   Again she began to pass out, her body going inert under him.
   "Stay awake for me, cunt," he growled in her ear and slammed her face
against the floor again.
   She tried to tell him that she would, that she would do anything for
him, that she loved him beyond all reason but nothing came out except a
whimpering gasping inchoate grunting as her face was slammed one last time
into the floorboards and blood swam in her mouth.
   Then he was off her and he had her by her shoulders and he was hoisting
her up on her aching knees and the room was spinning wildly around them and
bright sunshine was flooding in through the shutters.
   "I'm gonna kill the baby," he was saying.  "I'm gonna kill her and I
want you to watch me - want you to watch me -"
   "Yes -" she grunted.  " - yes - kill - kill - kill her - yes -"
   Father pulled her up, all the way up, standing and he wrapped the rope
noose around her neck and he tugged on the pulley line so that Ashley was
hauled upward all the way on her tippy toes, choking, bleeding down her
smashed up face and body, trembling, knowing if she passed out she would be
strangled.
   Kill her - yes - kill her -
   Sunny outside.  A sunny perfect day.
   And he was gone for a minute and she heard the faucet in the bathroom
and he came back and chucked the glass-full of water on Tracey's little
blonde head.
   The child was still tied across the table, wrists out over her head,
just as Ashley had imagined - because she'd seen Father do another girl
like that once - Tracey's lower body off the end of the table.
   Kill the baby.  Yes.  Oh God yes kill her.
   "Muuhhmmaaa!"Sweet little Tracey cried out as she came out of
unconsciousness - babbled and whimpered as Father untied her from the table
and roped her wrists together and hung her by her bound hands from the
chain, tying her small legs bent upward at the knees, her ankles to her
thighs, suspending her in a kneeling-floating position where Ashley could
watch -
   "Maaaaa - noooooo - pleeeeze -"
   yes kill her yes
   - covered with stripes and bruises - pretty blue eyes darkened half shut
- whipwelts right across her cute face and eyelids - lips swollen - nose
smashed - ears, nipple and pussy burned black - beautiful
beaten-half-to-death slaughterbaby now hangs helpless for Father's endless
cruelty -
   No more daycare for Tracey, Ashley thought cruelly.  No more trips with
mom to the mall.  No more brushing your hair at night.  No more fairy tales
to go to sleep by.
   The whip and club have left the child's small pretty body a mess - awake
now - fully awake - she suffers - suffers pitifully - suffers like an angel
in the flames of hell - burning for Father -
   And Father, Omnipotent, has the Knife.
   - no more candy canes or Easter bunnies -
   He stands in front of her.  She's hoisted high, her eyes level with the
killer's, her small body arched and ready for his violence.
   She pleads with him.
   He smiles.
   Plunges the Knife into Tracey's little belly, not all the way, just the
tip.
   Tracey's scream is full of new life.
   He pulls it out and tells Ashley to lick the blood off it as he holds it
up to his daughter's beaten face.
   "Mmmm," Ashley moans, Tracey's blood smearing her lips.
   - no more daddy-hugs or television cartoons -
   Oh pleease kill her father pleease.
   This time he plunges the blade deeper and the child arches and grunts
like a trapped piglet.  He takes it out and wipes the blade on her face. 
Pushes it in again a bit higher, just below her tiny belly button, cuts a
gash down to her mons, cuts the peritoneum open - takes the blade out.  A
strand of gut the pale color of mushrooms spills obscenely from Tracey's
small tummy.  The child pukes up blood.  The killer studies her for a
moment stroking himself then steps closer to wet his arched erect prick in
the flowing cherryjuice coming from her cut up abdomen.
   Give her more daddy, more - oh shitt - more pleeease!?  Fuck her with
your Knife, Father!
   Ashley stands way up on her toes to alleviate the pressure of the noose
around her neck.  Her hands are fisted, still bound at her sides.  She
watches Father work on Tracey and vomits up a gulp of hot vomit laced with
blood. Maybe Father will fuck her own body with that big Knife too.  Maybe
it will all end here on this perfect sunny day.
   Tracey is gone pale and her cries are weaker but she's still writhing
with lively energy.
   Father smiles on her, leans in to kiss her beaten mouth, draws back and
stabs the knife into her lower belly sideways to slice it open.  As the
child squeals he stabs thighs and legs, arms and hands with quick short
jabs, in and out, quick hard thrusts that cut and pierce nerve, muscle,
arteries, veins - sometimes to the bone - little Tracey begins a muted
sensuous death dance as most of her intestines spill out of her, blood
choking up in her throat, blood squirting and jetting from her all over the
floor, on Ashley's legs and feet.
   "Goddamn piggg!" Father growls focusing the starbright heat of his
deepest killing rage to drag the killing blade from the child's throat
right down to her belly button, past it to her chubby little puss then he
leans forward and slams the blade up from under her ribcage into her
beating heart and Tracey gives out one last lovely pigsqueal as her head
topples down and her eviscerated body spasms for a full minute before going
stock still.
   Father has used her up, tortured her, fucked her and killed her.
   He turns to Ashley, the end of the pulley rope in one hand, bloody Knife
yanked from Tracey's heart in the other.
   He's tugging.
   Ashley rises up off the ground, choking, her eyes bulging in their
sockets.
   "Ready to die for me?" he asks.
   "Ygghh -zzz!" she grunts.
   Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes YESSS.
   And the rope around her small scrawny neck is tighter and tighter and
she kicks in mid air.
   "Do you love me, pig?"
   YES OH GOD FATHER YES
   "DO YOU LOVE ME?"
   GGHHHGHGHHHHHHH -
   And choking, blacking out, she looks down to see Father's Knife awash
with deadbaby blood, poised against her belly.
   7.
   But it doesn't end there.  He can't kill her.  He needs her suffering to
go on.
   He wants to continue using her, as bait for future victims, as
fuckpuppet, as meat for his whips and clubs and fists.
   He chokes her for a while, well past unconsciousness, until her cheeks
are a pale shade of violet.  He slices a surface cut across her lower belly
just to see her bleed, then he eases her down to her knees sheathing his
knife aiming his cock at her face smiling as his bladder lets go.
   She comes to as he pisses on her, opening her eyes under the stinging
spray, opening her mouth to gasp for air and receiving instead Father's
thick hot stream of dark amber, still held up by the choking rope, hands
against her sides.
   "Swallow," he commands.  And she does.
   When he lets the rope go she falls all the way to the floor on her side
and he continues to piss all over her as she sobs brokenly, gasping for
air. He urinates on her feet and legs, on her belly, on her chest,
returning to her face and hair until he's the fluid peters out.
   After a while he cuts her arms free and grabbing her by one red-bruised
wrist he drags her out of the shack and over the gravel of the driveway to
the van.
   He leaves her propped up against the front tire of the vehicle and he
goes back inside.  In the trees birds are singing.  The sunlight blinds
her. Thirsty she licks her piss-moist lips.  The van's hubcap is cold, wet,
mud-splashed, against her spine. Father's urine drips from the ends of her
soggy mane, down her shoulders, down her chest and back.  She looks down at
her beaten legs stretched out in front of her - dirt clings to her piss-wet
calves and the sides of her feet - clings wetly too to the medallion on the
chain around her ankle.
   When Father comes back, a long while later, he's carrying a large dark
plastic trash bag.
   Tracey - or what's left of her.
   Ashley goes in and out of consciousness.
   She remembers being in the back of the van beside the plastic bag.
   Then she's being dragged over the tall grass by one leg, over muddy
puddles, into the rain-soaked woods, her head banging on clumps of grass,
tree-roots, pine needles.
   Coming to sometime later she sees he has placed mother and daughter,
Anne and Tracey Wiley, side by side.  The plastic bag he brought the child
in lies discarded at the edge of the clearing smeared with blood and bits
of gutmeat.
   Father fucks the dead beaten butchered bodies on the muddy ground. 
Slashes and gouges from his knife are all over both victims, evidence of
last night's savagery and temporary testament of Father's virulent hatred
of female.
   Rainwater from last night's storm drips down from the leaves in the
trees.
   Father has dumped Ashley against an oak, between two thick root stumps.
She sits with her back up against the rough moist bark.
   She watches him indulge his necrophilia as the day grows warmer and
warmer and insects buzz around them.
   "Will you do that with me?" she half whispers, weak, unable to summon
her voice.  "When you - when you -"
   He looks up at her.  He has Anne Wiley's carcass before him on its
belly. Pale and dirty the dead woman looks like a discarded mannequin.  The
back and top of her head are blown out and black with blood.  A whitish
mass of brainmatter spills from the violated skull.  Father fucks the
mutilated cadaver up the ass, up on his arms as if he were doing slow
pushups over her.
   "When I kill you?" he finishes.
   Ashley nods.
   "You know I will," he grunts.
   She watches him lift himself off Anne and move to Tracey.
   She imagines herself dead lying there on the ground before him with the
two slaughtercunts.
   The forest smells like damp sewage as the sun's heat radiates through
the trees.  Shadows dapple the clearing as clouds move in the sky and a
whisper of a breeze rustles through the branches.
   She imagines him fucking her lifeless body, brutally, emotionlessly.
   Ashley cups her beaten sex in her hands - the flesh is numb and sore -
still she begins to rub herself.  Father's piss has dried on her skin
leaving it taut and smelly and gnats circle her eyes and alight on her arms
and shoulders stinging the scrapes and welts, contusions and bruises, the
marks of Father's brutal lust.
   The murdered four year old lies spread-legged, spirals of her innards
spilling out of the gash down the middle of her body and into the dirty
ground.  Her face, beaten welted and bloody, speckled with dark mud stares
upward wide eyed, her blue eyes now milky and glazed but wide open,
toothless mouth gaping, her face twisted in a grimace of frozen suffering.
Father has positioned her as if crucified, her little arms reaching out on
either side, fingers curled inward, dark ligament indentations in her
wrists and ankles, legs too spread obscenely.  He hovers over her and dips
his cock into the messy opening in the child's tummy, pushing his manmeat
into the squishy gutmass.
   "Ahhhh," he groans looking up into Ashley's loving eyes.  "Bitch's still
warm - mmm - nice and warm -"
   "I want you to cut me open like that," Ashley mutters watching him.  " -
a - and f-fuck my - my insides..."
   The child has been cut the long way as well as across, the T sliced in
her mirroring the position of her butchered body.
   "Yeahh?" grins up at her.  "I'll remember that when your time comes,
bitch."
   Looking down at herself Ashley notices for the first time the thin
knife-slice Father made across her own whip-streaked bruise-battered belly.
The gnats are drawn there by the scent of dry blood.  She reaches up with
one hand for a moment to feel the indentations his rope left around her
neck.
   "Why didn't you do it before?" she asks him.  "I know you wanted to.  I
should be lying there n-next to them - p-pleasing you -"
   "If you don't quit running your fuckin' mouth you might just get what
you're asking for, missy - and it won't take much effort on my part."
   "Do it, father," she whispered, rubbing herself more insistently,
starting to feel the familiar heat and wetness stirring in her battered
sexmeat.  "Kill me here.  Cut me open.  Tear me apart.  Make it hurt.  Kill
me here and bury me here - in the dirt by this tree - like a dog.  Leave me
and don't look back.  Erase me like I never existed."
   "Ahh goddamn you," Father groaned.  Her words were driving him to a
pinnacle of sadistic pleasure.  Not even Ashley's mother, a painpig
masochist, had ever offered herself the way his thirteen year daughter old
did now.
   "You know you want to Father.  You know you do.  Use me up for all I can
give you.  I want you to.  I love you and I want you to feel the pleasure.
I want to please you with my blood.  I know I pleaded with you last night -
but I can take it now - let me prove it to you.  I can go much further -
right to the end for you - loving you and kissing you and bleeding for
you."
   She watched him swing Tracey's carcass over on its gashed belly to
sodomize the dead child, a savage fierce grin of determination on his face
as he entered her, his eyes never leaving Ashley's.
   "Keep talking pig."
   "Ahh - yes, sir - I want you to fuck me like you're fucking her now.
Just like that.  Way up my ass.  Mmmm - pushing way up deep into my ripped
out guts -grinding into me - smashing your way in.  Nnnhh pleease - Break
me.  Cut the life out of me like you cut it out of them with that big -
sharp - knife - uhhhh - I dream about it.  I dream about it all the time.
Dying for you like the ones we've killed - like the pictures you show me of
mother - uhhh -" Ashley felt waves of deep pleasure rocking through her and
her legs pressed together, heels scraping the hard ground, the dark wet
soil, the medallion on her ankle tinkling as her legs moved.  "I n-neeed it
- uhhh - I neeed it so bad - hurt me more - break me - finish me...I'm
worthless...I'm nothing...I deserve whatever you do to me...all of it...to
please you...to please you, daddy..."
   As she spoke the words which came from the deepest part of her she
leaned her head back against the trunk and closed her eyes.  When she
opened them again Father was standing over her spattered with mud, blood
and guts, smelling of death.  He had unsheathed his knife.  His eyes stared
intently.
   "Give me your hands," he said.
   She leaned slightly forward holding up her hands for him.
   He cut an X in each of her palms and she hissed with pain but did not
pull her limbs away.  Blood trickled down between her fingers as he stepped
up and took her arms by her wrists and cupped her bloody hands around his
shaft.
   "Jerk me off."
   She did as he asked stroking his massive organ firmly and rhythmically.
   "Kill me," she moaned looking up at him.  "Cut my head off....cut my
eyes out...I know you want to...I know you hate me..."
   She squeezed her bloody hands against his hard meat feeling the pleasure
she was giving him with her words and her forceful caresses.
   "I do hate you, scumbag," he grunted.  "I do.  Very badly."
   He put the tip of the knife to her throat.
   "Yesss," she moaned.  "Push it into me.  Slice my throat open.  I want
to choke on my own blood for you while you fuck me."
   The killer gritted his teeth.  The little bitch was right.  He wanted to
give her what she craved - what both of them craved - but he wanted to make
it last - this thing between them - he wanted it to go on - he wanted so
much more from her and he knew she would be capable of giving it.
   He moved the knife blade to her cheek.
   "Cut me," she gasped.  "Cut my face all up - carve me up - scar me -"
   As she pistoned his cock between her bloody hands he pressed the knife
blade gently across her cheek from her chin to her hair line watching a
line of blood spill from the cut.
   "Ahhhhh," she moaned smiling, closing her dark eyes, trembling.  "Yesss
- cut me - cut me - cut me -"
   He pressed the knife tip into her earlobe reaching down to pinch the
fragile shell with his other hand, to hold it for the piercing.
   She turned her head to the side to make it easier for him giving out a
short gasp as the knifeblade punched through the skin and rivulets of blood
spilled down the back of her neck, down her spine.
   "Uhhh!  uh - uh -" she grunted, quivering, jerking Father off slightly
faster.
   Father stepped back away from her.
   "Lie on top of them," he told her indicating the dead females with his
bloodsmeared knife.  "Lie on top of them, on your back, and spread your
legs wide open for me.  I'm going to the van.  You do as I say and wait for
me."
   She was already crawling toward Anne and Tracey on all fours, her hands
leaving blood trails on the muddy ground, dark droplets scurrying down the
side of her face and neck and from her ear lobe.
   There's no turning back now, no stopping it.
   She has asked for it.
   Father will take her where he needs to take her.
   He comes for her.
   She lies across both naked slaughtercunts holding her legs back in
spread- wide, ready-to-get-plowed position.
   "I love you," she says softly.
   "Shut up, pig," he snarls going down on his knees and grabbing her by
her calves.  Wordlessly he crams his massive cock up her asshole with three
violent thrusts that make her cry out weakly.
   "I don't want to hear a single fucking sound from you, cunt," he tells
her meanly.  "You hear me?  Not - one - single - fucking - sound."
   He uses her to work himself up, uses her up the ass and up her cunt
thoughtlessly and lovelessly bouncing her on top of the butchered cadavers.
   "You won't be going back to school, fuckmeat," he growls.
   He punches her belly hard, winds her.
   He choke-fucks her.
   "Not for a long while - maybe never -"
   The sun gleams down through branches above him into her eyes.
   He's punching her cunt.
   He's fucking her again.
   He's fist fucking her, forcing his strong hard hand deep into her small
vagina, a bit at a time, right up to his wrist.
   She's feverish for him, taking everything he gives her soundlessly,
biting her lower lip to keep from crying out.
   She's on her belly on top of Anne Wiley and Father's thrusting his hard
fingers up into her shithole, widening it, pushing a broken branch into
her, a two inch thick three-foot long stick broken off from a nearby tree -
"Fuck this, bitch," he snarls.
   It takes all she's got not to scream her guts out.
   Leaving the branch in her ass he turns her over and plows his cock up
her fistfucked cunt.
   He slaps her face turning her from side to side, pushing her head into
the gash in little Tracey Wiley's belly, grabbing her throat in both hands,
fucking and strangling her.
   Time blurs by.
   Father beats her with the broken branch across her back and shoulders
while he sodomizes her.  He beats the sides of her legs.  He leans down to
bite her viciously.  He bites her thighs and calves savagely drawing blood,
drawing strangled cries from her.
   "Keep quiet scumbag - I told you I want absolute silence."
   Ashley lies inert as he beats her, bites her, brutally fucks her.  She
pretends she is already dead, already massacred for his pleasure, lloling
lifelessly like a small boat on a storm-tossed sea.
   He pulls out of her, gets up on his feet.
   "Crawl," he tells her.  "In a circle.  Around me.  Crawl you little
shit. You keep crawling while I beat you - don't stop moving -"
   She obeys moving on slashed hands and aching knees, blood dribbling from
her violated holes down the insides of her thighs, crawls as she's been
told to do in a circle around Father, a circle that encompasses the two
dead bodies next to which Father stands wielding the makeshift branch-club
he has sodomized her with.
   He slams the branch hard across her shoulders and back and across her
buttcheeks and thighs.  The rough wood tears her skin, bruises her deeply,
cracks one rib and almost dislocates one shoulder.  He hits her so hard
with it that pieces of it flake off but still she keeps silent, dizzy as he
smacks her head with the branch, still managing to stay on all fours.
   "Keep moving," he commands.
   The beating goes on, the club landing all over her and again against her
skull.
   A fresh wash of blood runs down, drips off her hair, twirls around the
edges of her temples, floods her eyes.
   Somehow she keeps on.
   "Fucking cunt," he growls hitting her harder and harder.
   She looks down at the ground - its all turned red.
   She's gasping for air.
   Mud and blood all around her.
   Two lound thunks against her head and everything fades.
   The afternoon is melting into night.
   Ashley sees Father burying Anne.
   He's dug a grave by the oak tree and he drags the dead woman by her legs
toward it and spills her into it.
   The ground devours the pale white female body.
   Ashley now looks down on the clearing.
   Gradually, as her mind clears, Ashley realizes Father has suspended her
between two trees - pulled her arms apart on a two-by-four and as she looks
out on either side she can see her hands nailed to the wood, palms up,
nails driven through the X' gashes left by Father's knife.  The two by four
is lodged up on the trees that flank her, up on branch nooks four feet off
the ground.  Her legs are roped by the ankles, spread way wide and lashed
to the oaks that hold up her crucified arms.  She's spread obscenely open,
off the ground, the branch she was beaten with stuffed up her cunt.
   Father has started a bonfire and there's a steel pot in the flames.
   Long needle thin metal skewers are propped up inside the pot and
something else - something that looks like a strand of bicycle chain curled
up in loops.
   Ashley's mouth is stuffed full of mud and a thick rag is wrapped tightly
around her head and between her lips to keep her from spitting it out - to
keep her from venting out the screams that are sure to come.  She gags on
the gritty stuff as it creeps into the back of her throat and tries to hold
on to her flickering senses, her head throbbing from Father's blows, her
whole body raging in extreme suffering.
   The shadows deepen and time ceases to matter - Ashley watches Father
fuck Tracey next to the grave he's dumped Anne into.  In the constantly
dancing light of the bonfire flames Father's masculine body is beautiful as
its coiled fury is vent upon the grossly defiled infant.  His cock hilted
in the dead child's pussy he thrusts his hips slamming the carcass against
the ground.  Tracey's limbs wobble like the limbs of a discarded doll. 
Ashley sees the fire's flames in Father's eyes.  He has become now pure
animal.  There is no language or humanity in him.  He is free, predatorial,
masterful, demonic.  Ashley's sick needy masochistic love fills her.  She
wants him to finish with Tracey and come for her.
   She watches him dip his face into Tracey's open belly.
   Ashley's clit and her bruised nipples ache engorged with blood.
   My God, she ponders silently, he's eating her guts.
   It seems to go on forever and when he finally tosses the pieces of the
slaughtered infant into the muddy grave it is already night.
   A night of absolute unearthly stillness.
   Moonlight gleaming in a cloudless sky and a faint breeze stirring the
trees.
   He's positioned her so that they are eye-to-eye.
   The first glowing steel shaft is in his gloved hand.
   His face is bloodsmeared.  A bit of babygut dangles off his chin.
   "Hurt for me," he says softly.
   His words move on the breeze as he raises the end of the smouldering
shaft up into her left titty-nub.
   He pushes the steel into her, grinds the shaft all the way through
impaling her young pubescent breast burning the tender girlskin.
   This pain is deep.  It shatters her, drowns her, envelops her.
   Another shaft slowly driven into the same breast.
   She is falling through dark folds of suffering, arching her back to
offer him her body, cramps running through her arms and legs, pinpoint
flashes of agony at her nailed hands and stuffed-up cunt.
   She tastes mud, and smells burning meat, and sweat and the sweetly
rotten stench of butchered women and he's smiling up at her, watching her,
gloatingly stroking himself as he drives in another shaft festooning her
young nipples with sizzling hurt.
   She looks down at herself, her little titties spiked with gouging metal,
swollen and burned, bleeding down her chest, a small pool of blood in her
belly button.
   "Got something real special for you, missy," he tells her.
   She looks up and he's coming toward her.
   The curled up thing that was in the pot now dangles from his gloved
hand, smouldering - a black strand of bicycle chain, five feet long,
dragging on the dirt as he moves toward her.
   He reaches down and yanks the branch out of her bleeding cunt.
   She pisses dark scarlet.
   He tosses the bloody stump aside and steps back from her.
   "Take the pain I give you."
   And he draws back and raises the long strand of hot metal and brings it
crashing down right on her bleeding pussy.
   Her scream is mud-drowned in her stuffed up throat.
   "Filthy whore."
   He swings again with brutal force.
   The chain tears and burns, nicks bits of flesh from her mons and slams
to the ground.
   "I'm gonna rip you to shreds, bitch."
   He's so beautiful, Father killer drawing back, his features scowling
with vengeful menace.
   Swwwwoooooshhh!
   Her ankles fight the ropes that hold her legs apart up on the tree as
her body responds to the blow.
   It is special, as he has promised, special in the way only Father can
make it special - a fuck-beating - the battery and destruction of her needy
cunt.
   He focuses his rage on her defenseless sex mound slashing labia and
clitoris to blood with flash-hot blows that rip and burn at her -
destroying her body and her mind - He whips her upper thighs, the insides
of them, and the backs of them, and her up-flung calves leaving flaring
red-black burn-cuts on his daughter-bitch.  He fuck-whips her harder and
harder gradually easing up, slowing down, then speeding up and swinging
cruelly again - slowing down - almost stopping - then starting again -
building - taking her well past any possible mental or physical limits -
taking her where he's never taken her before.
   He's dropped the chain back into the pot.  It glimmers there, coated
with her blood.
   He's strapped on the spiked dildo, the one he's watched him kill other
babies with.
   He moves toward her.
   Sparks and smoke puff and crackle from the bonfire.
   The breeze has died down and the forest is deathly quiet all around
them.
   She hovers on the edge of sanity and consciousness holding on for him
holding on because of her love of him, wanting to please him, to give him
what no other female will ever give him.
   The mud in her mouth dribbles out around the corners of her lips and
oozes out of her nostrils.  She's swallowed some of it in the frenzy of the
savage cuntwhipping but enough remains to guarantee her silence.
   He steps up to her and puts the tip of the thick steel-pronged weapon to
the bloody maw of her shattered sex organ.
   He grips her bloody thighs and with an urgent animal grunt he pushes
forward and enters.  The barbs tear their way into her, rip the velvety
inside of her young cunt-channel, split her and gash her and hurt her
beyond words.
   There are no words any longer.  They've ceased to matter.
   There is only the dancing bonfire, the crackling sparks, the grinding
metal penetrating the thirteen year old girl's bashed-in pussy, there is
the unspoken beauty of her love-suffering, of her giving and surrender to
the male Beast Father.
   Ashley the abused child.
   Ashley the broken angel.
   Ashley the suffering martyr-bitch.
   Made to pay for her youth and beauty.
   Made to pay the price of being female.
   Nailed up there, crucified between the two towering oaks.
   The full price, driven deep into her, barbed and hard, thick and
unyielding.
   She needs that terrible spiking fuck.  She wants it to fuck her soul.
   If Father could only fuck her living soul and tear it to shreds and burn
it up.
   Time blurring by - time forever lost.
   - and she's looking down as he steps back leaving the steel weapon
buried in her vagina, prodding up against the battered wall of her uterus.
   - and he's taking the bicycle chain from the heated pot over the fire.
   - and the fire is dancing and there are voices in the fire only Ashley
can hear, joyful women's voices, children's voices - the voices of the
little ones they've killed welcoming her as her mind spins.
   Father slowly and patiently begins to stuff the hot metal chain link by
link up into her ravaged anus, pressing it up into her, picking up the
branch-stump to push more and more of the chain up her asshole, up into her
guts, burning and sodomizing the thirteen year old, taking her to the
trembling edge of death.
   She looks down on him as her world fades wanting to smile but unable to
under the gagging cloth that keeps the mudslime in her mouth.
   And then her heart seems to hold on to one last spasmic throb, a deep
muscle pain moving up her left side - moving right up into her brain -
   ...  the night is moving by and the wind is in her face.
   She's in the van, on the passenger's side and the door is wedged open
and the road whizzes by in gray-black blurs.  Ahead, the headlights carve
out a yellow-white path and the strip of asphalt melts into darkness as it
rushes toward her.
   She looks to her left to see Father driving.
   He is naked and streaked with blood and filth.
   She looks down at herself and sees all the evidence of the day's
torture, her breasts deformed and swollen darkly and pierced through with
nearly thirty steel shafts, the butt of the barbed dildo protruding from
her torn up cuntslit, a strand of bicycle chain dangling from her asshole
against the van's vynl seat.  Her hands rope bound in front of her are
gashed and nail-pierced, like the hands of Jesus in the Catholic Holy
Cards.
   He has propped her up on the seat, the seat-back rolled almost to a
horizontal tilt, her right foot up on the dashboard, blood dripping down
her leg, blood oozing from her, a puddle of it under her, hot and tepid.
   Bits of gritty mud line her tongue but the gagging cloth is gone.
   " - gghaa?" she grunts.
   She looks at him and notices he's jerking off slowly.  He's bearing down
now on the gas pedal, the speedometer climbing past fifty.
   "If you live, cunt," he tells her.  "And they find you you know what to
say and what not to say - right?"
   The night hums by faster - Ashley knows this piece of road - a deserted
stretch through the forest park.
   "Right?"
   "ngh - yess - sir - yes -"
   "Good cunt - For my sake I hope you make it, because I'll enjoy using
you some more but I don't really give a shit one way or the other, you hear
me?  If you die I'll find another slut."
   Tears blur Ashley's eyes.
   Father's rough hand seizes her shoulder.  He drives on silently, his
eyes studying the road, looking for something.
   She realizes she doesn't have much time left.  He is looking for a good
dumping place.
   She starts to tell him she loves him but as she opens her mouth to speak
he gives her a solid shove toward the open van door.
   Suddenly she's falling into the night, an angel with no wings, a
vulnerable female thirteen year old body following the inevitable laws of
physics, gravity taking her toward the hard asphalt sweeping by at sixty
miles an hour.
   Father loves the sound - a thumping splat as she hits the edge of the
road, her howling yelp almost drowned out by the roar of the van's engine.
as he leaves her behind spinning and careening toward the road-side ditch,
her bones shattering, her head bouncing and unhinged.
   "Uhhhh shittt!" he grunts.  His balls tighten mightily and he shoots off
on the van's steering column.  "Filthy fuckin' bitchhh!" He shouts,
stomping on the wheel with his hands as he continues to cum, the car now
roaring at ninety, pushing a hundred.
   The night rockets by, phosphorescent and alien and Father yells
hoarsely, victorious, triumphant, flying down the road, the van's red
tail-lights like afterburns eventually disappearing into the inpenetrable
darkness.
   Ashley lay on her twisted back, a broken plaything, her face in the
muddy grass.
   The moon had appeared again from behind the clouds.
   Her mouth was full of blood.
   " - love - you - daddy -" her lips shaped the words silently.
   An owl swooped over the road in the shadows, wings beating the air.
   She imagined it was some demonic winged creature coming to take her, to
claim her soul.
   Down on her ankle she suddenly felt the absence of Father's gold chain
and the small medallion.
   She was, for the first time in her short life, completely alone.
   Shattered and abandoned.
   Fear posessed her and then terrible pain and then nothing.
   8.
   The police knocked at Father's door a week later.
   After thoroughly cleaning the cargo van he had called and reported his
daughter missing.
   Ashley had been found, they told him, over in Rennick County.
   "Rennick County," he said acting surprised.  "Jesus, that's two hours
from here.  Is she ok?  What happened to her?  What's happened to Ashley?
   "She's been hurt very badly, Dr.  Nelson," said the first officer, a
first year detective.
   The other man was studying Father closely.
   "I don't understand," Father said.  He knew it was the older man that
might give him a problem, that might have doubts.
   "Was she in a car with someone?  What the hell happened?  What's going
on?"
   "We're not real sure," the older detective said.
   "Please - tell me," Father said.  "Tell me.  I can handle it."
   "Don't know that you can, sir."
   "Oh dear God," Father said.  "Dear God." And he went pale and sat down
and as the men told him what they knew, or thought they knew he pretended
to cry - actually shed tears - until the doubts he'd seen in the older
detective's eyes were pretty much gone.
   "Three men?" Father asked.
   "That's what she was able to tell us," the younger detective said.
"She's been in and out and kind of foggy."
   "And that's completely understandable under the circumstances," the
older more experienced man added.
   "I want to see her," Father said.
   "Of course.  Do you want to drive or do you want us to take you to her?"
   "I think you better take me.  I don't know if - if I can -"
   "Not a problem, Dr.  Nelson."
   Ashley was in intensive care for three weeks.
   After that she would spend two more months in the hospital.
   During that time Father got to meet, talk with and eventually seduce the
Rennick County rape counselor, a twenty-eight year old dark-skinned woman
with beautiful hazelnut brown eyes, a long black silky mane of hair and a
set of long exquisite legs which he couldn't help noticing since the bitch
favored short skirts and classy black high-heel pumps.
   "Your daughter's been through a terrible ordeal, Dr.Nelson," she told
him. "Absolutely terrible."
   He looked into her eyes mustering as much sincerity as he could.
   "Will you be able to help her - help us - get through this - Ms -?  I'm
sorry.  I didn't catch your name."
   "Carla.  Carla Roberts"
   "Carla.  That's a lovely name.  Carla - do you think you will be able to
help?"
   Carla looked into Father's dark eyes and felt weak inside.  He was
handsome and virile and so full of concern for his daughter.
   "Uhm - well," she said.  "Yes I think I can help.  But your daughter has
been severely - traumatized, Dr.  Nelson."
   "Really?"Father said.  She glanced briefly at his hands.  Strong hands.
   "She's been - well - she'll never be able to have children."
   "I see," Father said.  But to himself he thought: Too fuckin' bad. 
Won't be able to knock the little shit up again.
   "Those men did terrible things to her," Carla continued.  "Terrible
unspeakable things."
   Inwardly Father sensed a savage glee but all he said was: "I don't know
if care to know the details.  What kind of animals would do that to another
human being?"
   "There's a lot of sickos out there."
   You don't know the half of it, sweetheart, he thought and then said:
   "No doubt about it.  Do you think they'll be caught?"
   "Your daughter gave us a very good description.  I'm sure we'll catch
them one way or another.  People like that usually give themselves away or
make mistakes."
   "You're right, of course.  They're probably not very smart."
   "Probably not."
   The phone rang and Carla excused herself, took the call, stood up and
turned toward the window.
   As she spoke, businesslike, handling whatever had just come up, Father
leaned back in the chair and watched her.  He had a nice unimpeded view of
her silouhetted against the light pouring in through the open levelor
blinds of the office window.  He let his eyes move slowly up and down the
well-dressed nigger's voluptuous body.  Look at that ass...It's gonna be
nice to use a spiked club on that and on those legs too he thought.  Hang
her by the ankles and smash her to a fuckin' pulp.  And those tits.  Mmm.
Its gonna be nice to slice em right off.  But it'll be nice to fuck her a
few times first.  Give er a little romance.  Take her out to a couple of
fancy places and then...
   Carla finished her call, excused herself again and sat across from him
at the desk.
   "We need to focus on the future don't we?" Father said after a moment.
   She smiled sadly.
   Father knew the bitch would be his when she smiled.
   Carla Roberts had a beautiful smile.
   "Yes, Doctor," she said.  "The future is definitely the thing to focus
on."
   "Please call me Daniel," Father said.
   Like her father, Ashley would be charmed by Carla's sad smile each day
of her therapy'.  Ashley would enjoy watching the smile disappear as she
told Carla what the imaginary rapists had done to her out in the woods
before dumping her on the road.  She didn't spare the young woman any of
the cruel details and watched her specially cringe when she told her what
it felt like to have a hot strand of bicycle chain shoved up her ass.  She
even let Carla cradle her in her arms and console her false tears.  Carla
smelled like fresh gardenias and her skin was like silky cinnamon.  While
the therapist hugged her Ashley would look down at the long brown legs,
sleek and tapered, and the small arched feet in the tightly fitting
high-heel pumps.
   Father's first visit to the hospital after Ashley was out of the ICU was
very special.
   Up to then she and Father had had to keep up pretenses.
   They'd had to stick to the worried parent and wounded child act until
Carla Roberts left them alone in the private hospital room.
   Ashley lay in traction, her broken legs and one arm suspended, her hands
and feet bandaged, a thick strip of gauze around her forehead like a white
bandanna.
   One machine next to the bed beeped and kept track of her blood pressure.
   Another one dripped an IV into her left arm.
   Father came to the bed and took her bruised, battered face in one hand
as he leaned over her to french kiss her cruelly.
   The immobile thirteen year old moaned softly and kissed him back.
   "Little bitch," he growled.  "I don't know how the fuck you survived."
   "Mmmm - I was lying out on the road for almost a whole day.  Somebody
finally drove by and saw me."
   "Were you conscious all that time?"
   "Most of it."
   "I hope you were in pain for me."
   "I hurt for you, Father, yes.  I'm in pain now.  All over."
   She waited a moment looking up at him, adoring him.
   Then she said:
   "Father, the anklet - it didn't fall off me on the road did it?"
   "No.  I took it.  I'll put it back on you when you come home."
   She smiled and sighed with relief.
   "The story about the three men -" she said.
   "Good fucking story."
   "Its the one you told me to tell.  Did they - believe me?"
   "You know it."
   His hand moved under the sheet over her belly and down to the bandaged
area.
   "Oww," she protested.
   "Keep quiet.  I wanna survey the damage."
   It hurt Ashley when he touched her down there but it was a good hurt.
She loved to hurt for him.  When she was more up to it, he told her, he was
going to fuck her, right there in the hospital bed.  He was gonna put his
cock up her and feel her gouged out pussy on his cock.  He continued to
caress her torn, stitched-up sexslit with gentle circular motions.
   "Doctors say you'll never be able to get pregnant," he said.
   She looked up at him.
   "I'm glad.  Its what I deserve."
   "Hmm.  You and that rape counselor..." he said.
   "Carla?"
   "Carla."
   He was stroking and stroking and incredibly Ashley felt herself
responding. Maybe he would fuck her now before her meds kicked in.
   "I want that nigger," he snarled.
   The sound of his voice sent familiar chills through her.
   "Yes, daddy," she moaned.
   "I'm gonna take that nigger apart."
   His words momentarily stopped her breath.
   "Can I watch?" Ashley said.
   "You'll be doing more than watching," he told her.
   "Promise?"
   "A lot more."
   Ashley thought about Carla Roberts as the meds took over.  She was
sliding into sweet slumber with Father's hand gently stroking her.
   Carla had such a beautiful nigger face.  Ashley loved the way the young
black woman moved, the way she used her hands when she spoke - and she was
so sweet, so professional, so eager to help.
   Carla would look real nice strapped into that chair in the cellar at
home under the harsh operating light.
   Until then Ashley would enjoy lying to her, day after day - and
listening to Father's plans for the beautiful nigger woman each night when
he would visit.
   It was going to be a wonderful kill.
   WOODBURN