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.
   Little Girl Lost
   Stryker stripped naked.
   At six foot four and three hundred pounds of pumped-up muscles he was a
fearsome hulk.  The dagger-through-the-heart cartoon between his bulging
pectorals (cherry-red meat and silver blade flanked by black scripted
letters, M and S, the scrolling ribbon with the words Woman Killer', the
single drop of illustrated blood) also stood out prominently on his now
erect fourteen inch cock-shaft as he donned the fat leather belt and
blade-sheathe buckling it tightly around his formidable abdomen.  The
mother-of-pearl handle of his killing dagger protruding from the top of the
sheath and his bald clean-shaven face and slitted snake-like eyes gave him
the appearance of some nineteenth century pirate about to stake his claim.
   He walked down the abandoned school hallway toward the boys' shower
rooms, the padding of his bare feet on the concrete echoing in the empty
building. The place had been cleared for demolition two weeks ago and
daylight seeped through the cracks left between slats in the boarded up
windows.  Besides the padding of his feet on the dusty, cracked concrete
floor there was another sound coming from the end of the hall, a sound that
was enchanting to the vicious sadist...a soft feminine whimpering sound...
   Stryker entered and for a moment contemplated his victim...after a
moment he began to slowly stroke himself, his eyes gleaming hungrily.
   Little Doreen Chapman would not be declared officially missing for two
more days.  By then, the luckless ten year old would be fertilizing the
trees at the Franconia National Wild Life Preserve.
   Now little Doreen Chapman hung by one roped ankle from a broken, rusty
ceiling pipe in the abandoned boy's showers in Tervale High.  Stryker had
hung her there himself earlier and gagged her with a black ball gag in the
dimly lit and musty smelling room.  She dangled fetchingly in her torn pink
dress which draped down in torn tatters over her strawberries and stars
panties, the bound foot bare, the other still bearing one white sock.  She
whimpered and gasped and stared up at the monster who had kidnapped her
with wide terror-filled eyes as she slowly spun, ever so slowly, a
miniature upside-down ballerina.
   Earlier, when he'd left her hanging there, and as he'd begun to strip,
Stryker had listened to the sounds she made from down the hall where he'd
stashed his gear.  She called out for her momma, her voice muffled and
distorted by the tight- fitting black ball.  This ball, which was meant for
an adult female's mouth, stretched the child's jaw beautifully almost to
the point of dislocation.  The sounds she made pumped Stryker up, made him
big and hard, his face stern and scowling.
   It had been incredibly easy to take her.
   Cruising for prey in the upscale suburban neighborhood on the East side
of town, Stryker had spotted her riding her bike on a deserted block where
new houses were going up.  He'd parked the van in one of the construction
site driveways and waited for her to pass him.  He watched her pedalling
the bike into the cul-de-sac, her pink dress blown back from her tanned
thighs, her smiling freckled face sunlit as she raised one hand to wave at
him, her honey colored pony tail bobbing.  It was Sunday afternoon and the
construction crews were gone.There was no one else around and the little
bitch was completely unafraid, trusting...  so completely and tenderly
innocent.
   ...the perfect fucking victim.
   He stopped the van, waved back and grinned.
   Then she'd circled back to the place he'd parked as he'd known she
would, since the street curved back on itself, still smiling, intending to
ride on past him and out of the cul-de-sac, when he sprinted out of the van
toward her and grabbed the small handlebars to stop the bike.
   When she looked into his mean face close up, her bright little
wonderland smile evaporated.  He grabbed her by her silky blonde pony tail
and lifted her clean off the bike as she squealed, her hands reaching up to
grab his strong arm.  Dragging the child by the hair in one hand and the
bike in the other he strode back to the van.  He let the bike fall to the
ground and opened the rear van door.  It took him less than three minutes
to rope and gag his victim in the rear of the truck after he tossed her
bike in and closed the cargo doors behind him.  She struggled in vain
against his strength, her little dress sanagged and torn by the protruding
bike pedal, her blue tennis shoes popping off her feet as she kicked
helplessly.  She wailed and screeched until he slapped her little face hard
to shut her up.  The blow stunned her and she stopped resisting.  When he
had her arms bound behind her and her ankles together he wrapped her in
thick, tight, body-coils of rope and gagged her with duct tape.  Then he'd
put her in a canvas laundry bag leaving just a small gap in the bag's
elastic aperture for her to breathe.
   Putting his meticulously pre-meditated plan into action he'd driven his
prey across town to the abandoned school.The parking lot of Tervale High
ended in an alley which circled around behind the cafeteria.  From the
street Stryker's van would be out of sight to passersby.  Earlier, he had
forced open a door which led into the abandoned high school's cafeteria
kitchen.  Through that door he brought little Doreen Chapman into the
condemned building, carrying her in the laundry bag as the healthy ten year
old squirmed and kicked.
   That day Stryker was really in the mood for a little girl.
   That's the way it was sometimes.  Sometimes it was big-titted mommas,
sometimes teenage sluts...today it was little girls...Female children held
a special fascination for him.  Raping and then killing them was probably
the most offensive and brutal of sadistic crimes.  It gave him intense
pleasure to know he was violating one of human society's worst taboos.  It
was delicious, exhilirating, even liberating.
   As he carried the trapped child into the dim shadows of Tervale High,
Stryker's anticipation was reaching a fever pitch.  The clean sweet smell
of her when he'd seized her and handled her in the van had already given
him an agonizing erection.  He couldn't wait to get started on the little
cunt.
   The boys shower, on one side of the old gym, was a perfect killing room.
   He'd made his way there with his bagged prey.
   Beige industrial tile covered ceiling, walls and floor.  Chrome pipes
and showerheads poked from the walls and small circular drain-grills were
visible on the floor every couple of feet.  Rusty pipes and light fixtures
lined the ceiling.  But the best feature of the room was its distance from
the outside perimeter.  No sound Stryker's victim would make would ever be
heard beyond these moldy tiled walls.
   Why the killer had chosen the boy's shower as opposed to the girl's
wasn't entirely clear to him.  Both areas were equally propitious for the
task at hand.  Yet, he felt a certain identification with the masculinity
of the boy's showers. He imagined all the young males that had passed
through this place, crudely innocent, joking about sex, recounting and
exaggerating their first encounters, speculating on future conquests.  Most
of them were already vanquished by the power of feminine seduction.  Most
of them would end up as husbands and fathers, their pure sexual aggression
subverted and defeated by pragmatic, practical, ball-breaking bitches.  By
executing his victim here Stryker felt he was delivering a blow for their
lost masculinity, for the primal beauty of undiluted masculine power.
   Best of all, Stryker had been able to find the main water valve for the
showers and he'd discovered that the city had not yet shut off the supply
to the old building.  That meant that running water would be available to
wash away all traces of the savage butchery he was about to commit on the
innocent fourth grader.  The kill would have the potential to be as bloody
and messy as he liked because no incriminating stain of it would remain. 
In a couple of weeks the whole place would be pounded into dust to be
replaced by another structure.  No clue of his crime would ever be found.
   When preparing the area for the take-down, Stryker had placed four
battery- powered road-emergency lights at each corner of the dark room. 
He'd dropped his human cargo in the dark and switched them on.  They were
fluorescent and the old Tervale High boys' showers came to life in an eerie
pale brightness.
   He'd taken little Doreen out of the bag in the weirdly lit shower room
and her face was flushed red, her eyes bloodshot from crying.
   Crudely, he'd ripped the duct tape off her squealing little mouth.
   She began immediately to cry and plead with him as he loosened and
removed the ropes coiled around her small body.  The smell of her, that
child smell which had aroused him earlier still surrounded her like an
aura; only now it was tinged with the sharp sweat-musk of fear.
   Then he'd hoisted the screeching child up by one leg, pulled off her
sock and tied her by her ankle to the rope which he'd left secured to the
ceiling pipe.  Taking the black ball-gag from his knapsack he'd pushed it
roughly into her little begging mouth and buckled the strap around her
blonde, pony-tailed head.  Leaving her there hanging and slowly rotating,
her arms still bound behind her, he'd gone outside to strip and don his
knife-belt.
   Now naked and ready for the kill he stepped up to the gagged, hanging
fourth grader and unsheathed his knife.
   He reached out and tugged on the neckline of her little pink dress
pulling it up away from her body.  Placing the blade against the taut
fabric he sliced the torn garment off the child and let it fall to the
floor.  Licking his lips he lifted the waistband of her strawberries and
stars panties, slid the sharp blade underneath the stretched cloth and
neatly sliced them in half to peel them off her and toss them aside.
   The little bitch now hung naked and gagged by her ankle, one
white-socked foot kicking helplessly in the air.
   Stryker grabbed the dangling foot by the ankle and sliced his knife
across the sole of the small limb from the toes to the cuff cutting into
the skin through the cloth of the sock.  She gave out a sharp little squeal
and instantly the white cloth turned dark crimson before slipping off the
bleeding flesh to the floor.  A long trickle of blood ran down her calve to
the kneehollow and down her thigh toward her pretty little ass.
   Still holding the child by her ankle Stryker swung her around so that
her perfect rump-cheeks brushed against his massive cock and the ruby red
drop of blood trickled on to it's knobby veined head.
   "I'm gonna kill you," he told her, feeling her warm blood on his
piss-slit. "...ahh...yeahhh...I'm gonna kill you, you little piece of
shit..."
   His words made her wail plaintively.
   He swung her back around and reached down to pop the ball gag free of
her mouth.  She bawled pitifully, eyes shut tightly, pony tail bobbing as
she shook, racked with sobs.
   "Shut up and suck my cock, whore!" Stryker shouted at her pushing his
huge appendage into the child's open mouth.
   Doreen Chapman continued to scream as the big man's cock pushed against
her pretty lips.  She was lost in a haze of total panic, beginning to piss
herself, hot lemony trickles running down her belly and tiny budding tits
and off her shoulders.
   Viciously, Stryker backhanded the upside down pissing child.
   "Shut up!  Shut the fuck up and suck me you stupid little bitch!"
   He grabbed her head by her pony tail and forced his giant cock into her
bawling mouth.  She continued to cry, her mouth stuffed with manmeat, the
vibrations of her throat delightful against the sensitive skin of his
balls.
   Piss dripped to the floor off the child puddling hot around Stryker's
bare feet.
   "You little pig!" he shouted at her.  "SUCK ME!"
   Fearfully, still whining, the child began to suck her killer's hot flesh
spear.
   The combined sensations of her little sucking mouth and vibrating throat
deeply excited the sadistic killer.
   He still held Doreen's bleeding foot and he brought the wrinkled
sole-flesh to his mouth to taste her blood.  The skin of the cut limb was
cool and in sharp contrast the blood leaking from the skin-deep gash was
warm and coppery to the taste.  Stryker held the foot by the big toe and
sliced another gash, perpendicular to the first on the sole, making a
blood-cross on the child's foot as she squealed and sucked and shook, her
small toes splaying spastically in reaction to the pain.
   He grabbed her head and shoved his cock down into her throat, a mean
scowl on his face.
   Still holding her little foot he sliced a thin superficial cut from her
ankle to the knee of her free leg then continued down the thigh until he
reached her belly.
   "...mmmmmm...." he moaned as he licked up the blood, running his tongue
up from her kneehollow to her heel, feeling the heat of her on his cheeks
and lips, reaching down to pinch her nostrils shut to keep her from biting
down on him as he thrust his cock into her small throat hole.
   Almost lovingly he lapped up the blood which clustered at her knee as
the cut along her leg bled and from there he licked down her luscious
little thigh, sucking up her life-fluid, occasionally biting into her soft
creamy skin, not hard enough to pierce it but hard enough to make her
wriggle and squeal with panic. Her thighs and legs were covered with a soft
down, a blonde peach fuzz which was only visible if he looked at her legs
in silouhette against one of the fluorescent lamps.  Otherwise he would
feel it brush his cheeks as his face moved down closer to her belly.
   In contrast, her little pussy was totally bare and pink, still dribbling
piss as he took the tiny labia on one side in his teeth and bit into her.
As he bore down with his teeth he held her face to his cock by her pinched
nose and began to make a growling sound in his throat closing his eyes and
letting the deep murderous viciousness in him come to the surface.  Harder
and harder he clamped his teeth together until finally the tender skin tore
and blood flowed into his mouth.  Like an angry dog he shook his head
tearing the skin flap off Doreen's little pussy and spitting it out as she
screeched into his prick.  Letting the pleasure invade him he leaned his
head back, pulled his cock from her throat and rubbed it on her screaming
crying face.
   Piss and blood ran down the fourth grader's belly and undeveloped chest
to the floor.
   Again she was pleading with him, then crying for her momma as he
continued to rub his long hard phallus against her moist cheeks and
forehead.
   "Just shut the fuck up and lick my balls, bitch...." he snarled,
grabbing her by her pony-tail again.  "Your momma's not coming for you..."
   He wanted to feel her little tongue on his hot genitals.
   "LICK!" he shouted pushing his ball-sacks down into her sobbing lips.
   She did as he ordered and her moving tongue and gasping breath soon
transported him, his teeth bared, his grip tight on the handle of his
knife.
   The thigh of her bound leg now caught his attention.  Muscles rippled
under the pale skin as she moved her head back and forth like a kitten to
lap at his swollen balls, making whiny whimpering sounds.  Trickles of
blood from the cut in her leg had started to flow down her buttocks and
back into her tightly-bound wrists.  The fingers of her hands were laced
together and he could see her hands were squeezing together tightly, her
little fingernails white from the pressure.
   "...just keep on licking me...no matter what...keep on licking..." he
said as he brought the blade to Doreen's thigh and began to cut her.  This
time he pushed the blade in a little deeper.  She began to whinny and
squeal and shake but kept on licking him obediently as he drew the blade
down her inner thigh, careful not to cut the artery which he knew would
finish her, but cutting into girl-meat deep enough to draw hot pulsing
droplets and trickles of warm dark blood.  He cut all the way down to her
mutilated pussy lips then withdrew the blade and licked the blood off his
knife.
   He slipped the weapon back into its sheath and ran his hands eagerly
over the bleeding child as she licked his balls.  Straddling her face,
making her lick his asshole too he caressed and squeezed her suspended
body. He kissed, licked and bit her thighs.  He trapped the ankle of the
free foot between his teeth and almost bit to the bone.  Little Doreen gave
out a sharp squealing shriek of pain.  Groaning with pleasure Stryker
licked her little pussy slit and asshole, her blood smearing his face, as
he thought about his big prick gouging into those small tight girl-holes.
He peeled her ass-cheeks open to look at her tiny pink rectum and smiled,
his eyes heavy-lidded with lust as he thought of how he would soon plunder
and sodomize his young victim.
   For Doreen the world rotated and spun, upside down and senseless as she
gagged on the smell of the big man, her small angelic face trapped between
his massive steely thighs.  Her blood dripped off her slashed limbs on to
her cheeks.  The cuts on her legs burned and his tongue and teeth were like
razors tearing at her.  Terror had almost driven her completely hysterical
and the only thing that she could hang on to was the vicious snarling voice
above which told her what to do.  The monster had told her to suck and lick
and she did it, obediently, because obedience was the only thing left.
   Just a short while before she'd been riding her bike, like always,
thinking about the trip her mother had promised her to the mall, where she
would be able to go into the Toys-R-Us and get lost.  The wind had been in
her hair and she'd been thinking of the rows and rows of pink Barbie dolls
all dressed up in cool, colorful outfits.  There was Barbie's car and
Barbie's house and Barbie's make-up mirror.  And there were the Pokemon
figures which made her giggle because they were so odd...  and now there
was horror and white light and a strange weird room like a giant bathroom.
   And here was the monster, the giant with the dagger-pierced cartoon
heart on his chest and on his big ugly thing, who now pawed and slobbered
all over her.  He had smiled at her from the van then leaped out into the
street in front of her and grabbed her, handling her as if she was nothing
more than a rag doll...a Raggedy Ann just like the ones in Toys-R-Us.
   She was dizzy from hanging upside down and drops of blood moved down her
belly into her neck and chin and ear-lobes.  She'd been told not to talk to
strangers, not to listen to them or do what they asked.  But the monster
had not spoken.  He'd just seized her and dragged her away.  Was this what
strangers did that mommy was always so scared about?  Was this what
happened to little girls who strayed away and disappeared?  In the mall she
remembered the faces of little girls just like her staring down from the
posters behind the glass near the exit.  See,' momma had said.  Daddy was
waiting with the car.  See what happens?' She asked.  These little girls
didn't listen to their momma.  They went away with strangers.' But where
did they go, she'd wondered.  Where did they stray and why did the
strangers take them away?  Now she knew...with deeper and more all-
destructive panic she began to realize that her face too would be up there
behind the glass on a poster...she even saw herself there watching her mom
and dad enter and exit the mall but unable to talk, unable to reach out...a
black and white image with no breath and no life...
   Doreen began to make rhythmic sounds of terror in her throat to
Stryker's great delight.  She continued to lick at him almost hypnotically
but he knew she was losing her mind, traumatized by the terrible ordeal he
was putting her through.  Some little girls could hang on longer than
Doreen but most eventually began to disintegrate psychologically.  After
all, it was to be expected.  Plucked from the safety of their suburban
existence they were not ready for what Stryker had to offer.
   He, on the other hand, was more than ready to move to the next step.
   He unsheathed his knife and with one quick move he sliced through the
rope that Doreen hung from as he gripped her by her free ankle, the one
he'd bitten into and which now bore deep red teeth-marks.  He dropped the
child to the floor slowly, laying her down on the cold tiles, her arms
bound under her, Stryker smiling as he moved down to kneel over her and
pull her thighs apart.
   Still holding the knife in one hand he pushed his enormous cock up
against Doreen's mutilated little pussy slit and prying the one remaining
labia away from the small cunthole he pushed the massive crown of his sex
up to it.
   "Now you're gonna be mine," he told her, looking into her hysterical,
tear- blurred eyes.
   Patiently, Stryker began to push his hard unyielding sex rod into the
crying child.  He looked down at the point of penetration, flesh to flesh,
as her small orifice, slightly piss-moist widened to the impossible
diameter of his invasion.  A gloating sneer twisted his savage face as he
entered deeper into the young female.  He leaned down on her, one hand on
her chest between her little pink-red nipples, his crushing weight stifling
her breath so that she drew quick little gasps between sobs, white mucous
spilling from her nostrils.
   In her fathomless anguish she was beautiful.  Tormented, punished,
breaking physically and mentally under the sadistic giant, Doreen would
never again be as lovely as she was now, a fallen cherub providing
limitless pleasure for her killer with all the vibrancy of her young life.
She would never grow to be a woman, never know love from a man.  She would
never be a mother, would never know what it was like to carry life.  No one
would ever find her remains and the mourning for her would go on
limitlessly without closure.  Her parents would weep endless sleepless
nights for their lost treasure and only Stryker would hold the memory of
her final hours, of her delicious destruction and carry it until his dying
breath to enjoy it at will, to draw on the power of the desecrating event
when no living victim was around to provide him with pleasure.  He would
not keep any part of her as trophy, only the images now being imprinted in
his memory.  These would come unbidden and often, when lying on his bed in
the ocean-front house his father had left him, he would jerk off slowly to
his memories where females screamed, suffered and died for his unquenched
pleasure.
   Already his penis had entered up to the half-way point where the
bleeding cartoon heart was tattooed.  But still, bit by bit, Stryker
continued to ram inward, slowly, the child's cunt skin tearing, bleeding,
her cries and squeals louder and more energetic as she squirmed under him.
The small candy- striped rubber band that held her hair in a pony tail had
slipped off as she shook her head from side to side and her honey-colored
mane swept against the dirty tiles.
   Stryker's hand moved from the middle of her chest to her small throat.
   He squeezed his large hand around it, his fingers sinking into her flesh
and almost going completely around the circumference of her neck.  Her eyes
bulged and her cries were choked off as her face went from red to dark
scarlet to purple.
   Still, Stryker pushed deeper into her.
   When the tatoo had almost disappeared inside Doreen something seemed to
give and a strange mewling sound erupted from her swollen lips.  Her
yielding passage suddenly allowed another two inches of man-shaft before
Stryker's cock finally came up against solid meat inside his child prey. 
Hot blood poured copiously from her penetrated womb.
   She began to pass out, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, suffocated
by Stryker's strangle-hold as he began to piston slowly back and forth
inside her.
   He watched coldly, calculatingly as her eyes rolled back in her little
head.  Her immature pussy had begun to lubricate involuntarily making it
easier for him to fuck her.
   When her breath had died down to an almost imperceptible wheeze, her
mouth wide and drooling he released her throat and slapped his huge meaty
hand hard across the small pale cheek bringing her back to consciousness.
   Her little twat squeezed around his shaft as her eyes came back into
focus and he groaned and smiled and took a hold of her small throat again.
   "Do you know who I am?" he asked, looking down into the fear-blown
strangle-flushed face of his girl victim.
   "Answer me..."
   Doreen tried to form words.  It took a lot of effort to do so and the
sadist was not making it easy on her squeezing and bearing down on her
voice-box and wind pipe, pushing his cock almost to the hilt and pulling it
out in her precocious and now impossibly widened vagina.
   "Do you know who I am?"
   "N-n-n-nhhh-" she gasped.  Then: "-n-nohh-"
   "Of course you don't, you little piece of shit..." he sneered.
   Cruelly he slammed deep into her and choked her hard his powerful body
charged with sado-sexual power.
   "I am GOD, bitch!"
   Her eyes widened and she sputtered.  Spit and mucous shot from her nose.
She looked up at him now in complete mindless terror.  God.  Is that what
he had said - God?!
   But wasn't God an old man with a great white beard and peaceful blue
eyes?
   She had said her prayers to God every night as she had been told.  Mom
and dad took her to church every Sunday, even when it rained and it was
hard to wake up and there was the Man on the Cross and the droning voice of
the priest and they told her God was everywhere and invisible but now He
was here...He was entering her...He was destroying her.  And His steel hard
fingers choking choking choking her, the weird white-lit room going
dark...God...He was the God, the Father, the Killer, the Choker, the
Breaker.
   Stryker watched her, watched her carefully and again when she slipped
out of consciousness, her small body going limp he wacked her across the
face.
   "Say it, cunt!" he shouted at her.  "Tell me who I am!"
   "....gh - gh - gh - gaaa...."
   Again his hand wrapped around her little throat, and now she saw his
other hand unsheathe the knife and the gleam of the blade
   "Yeah - yeah - yeah -" he growled.  "That's it - come on - say it -"
   His cock slid in and out in and out.
   Her tiny breathless voice rose out of her.
   Her cut-up legs bled on the floor.
   Her little buttocks clenched as his cock savaged her.
   "G-God!" she squeaked.  "God!  God!  God!"
   He smiled and squeezed her throat and raised the knife to her chest.
   "I am God to you, bitch," Stryker growled.  "Yeah...I'm your God, your
Owner, your Lord and Master..."
   But Stryker was nowhere near as cruel as the one true God and even in
his moment of fierce ecstasy he acknowledged it.  After all, Stryker could
kill a child in one afternoon but God would take months of slow agonizing
disease to destroy children, even babies, with leukemia, or have them shit
to death with dyssentery, or blow up like party balloons with hunger.
   Stryker could play this barbaric game with his victims...specially the
little ones...he could get them to call him God, invoke their mindless
terror, but, hell, Stryker wasn't God.  Not really.  He was just one truly
fucked up sadistic killer.
   Because Doreen's arms were bound under her, her shoulders were pulled
back and the skin was taut and stretched.  The weird light in the room
distorted its color which her killer remembered when he'd captured her out
in the sunlit road as light brown, healthy and tanned.  He could see now
that underneath her clothes she was paler and he could make out the outline
of a swim-suit.  The little bitch had probably been to the beach recently.
Too bad, he thought as he touched the blade to a point just below her right
shoulder...too bad she would never get to see the beach, or anything else,
again.
   As he pushed the blade into the child's skin Stryker had another
fleeting thought...Perhaps, in fact, God's fate for little Doreen had been
this all along.  This little cunt, whose name he didn't even know, had
enjoyed a wonderful life, beaches and picnics, toys and bikes, parties and
birthday cakes...now it was time to end it.  It was time to use her little
life as a gift through which all his sadistic impulses would be relieved.
She was nothing now but a slaughter-toy, signed, sealed and delivered into
the killer's eager hands by the Maker himself.
   As he continued to strangle and fuck little Doreen, Stryker began to cut
a shallow line on her skin from her shoulder to her leg.  She began to buck
and kick energetically as the blade pierced her and as it approached her
nipple her eyebrows arched and the tears just poured heart-breakingly from
her eyes.
   Stryker noticed she had the prettiest brown pupils as he dragged the
knife carefully downward over her delicate flesh while looking studiously
into her face, fascinated by its haunting beauty.
   She was trying desperately to look down past his strangling hand to his
cutting hand, her eyes almost popping out of her head, her pussy clenching
and unclenching deliciously around his prick.
   The blade opened her epidermis and blood trickled from her like juice
from a sliced fruit.  Mercilessly he cut right through her little nipple,
bisecting it and continuing downward as she screeched and tossed her head
and looked down at the cutting hand again, choking, tossing her head again,
arching her eyebrows, as he cut all the way down her smooth belly to the
beginning of her thigh where the other gash left off.
   Stryker looked down at the child's heaving abdomen now framed on one
side by a blood line and striped with previous trickles of blood and urine.
She had a nice little belly-button, an inny, a sweet little dip in the
center of a smooth flat abdomen.  Gently he began to slice small incisions
on her soft belly-flesh, small pierce wounds with just the tip of the
hunting knife as his cock surged, harder and bigger, now buried in her, his
fingers clutched around her throat. Again and again he stuck the sharp
knife tip into girl-flesh and with each thrust her pussy squeezed his prick
inside, and she gave out sharp little cries which interrupted her constant
inchoate begging, weeping pleas.  Soon blood was pooling in her
belly-button from all the cuts and she had started going limp again. For an
instant Stryker was tempted to plunge the knife right through her sweet
little inny and cut her guts out but he held himself back...
   He wanted to enjoy his victim and take his time with her.
   He wanted to use her as much as was humanly possible in the next few
hours.
   So he sheathed his knife and revived her once more with a resounding
slap.
   Her sobs were loud, pitiful.
   His blows to her face had split her pretty lip which bled down her chin.
   Stryker slid out of her bleeding cunt and got to his feet.
   He stood over her and smiled as he decided on what would follow.
   He bent over her and rolled her on her belly then he kicked her legs
apart.
   He took her by the hips raising her belly off the floor and making her
crouch, bent over on her knees, her weeping face pressed to the dirty
tiles.
   "Get that ass up, slut!" he shouted.  "UP!  As far up as you can...dirty
little sleaze pup..."
   He let her crouch there, arms bound behind her, exposed and extremely
uncomfortable, all the cuts he'd put in her still dripping blood and he
raised his cock, aimed it at her asshole and emptied his bladder on his
little child victim.
   The acrid stench of man-urine filled the room and Doreen began to try
and squirm out of its path as it puddled under her and reached her face and
hair.
   "Don't you fucking move, pig!" Stryker shouted.  "I want you to rub your
fucking face in it...Yeah...you heard me...God tells you to rub your face
in that piss and lick it up...DO IT!"
   While the last of his waste emptied from his dripping prick he watched
the little girl reluctantly obey, rubbing her face into the stinking fluid
and dragging her little pink tongue against the gritty floor, trying to
look up over her shoulder at him as he stood over her, she whimpering like
a wounded dog.
   Slowly, Stryker stroked his meat back to full erection.
   "You're nothing but a piece of human garbage..." he told Doreen as he
sunk to his knees behind her in his own pool of piss, between her
spread-apart and knife- cut legs.  "...piece of shit whore...scumbag
bitch..."
   He put his cock to her tiny asshole and she gave out a startled cry.
   "Noooo!" she pleaded.
   "Fuck you!" he snarled, grabbing her little hips and slamming the huge
red cock-head up against the ten year old's star-shaped asshole.
   "Open your ass up for me you bitch!  Open it up for your God!"
   Doreen raised up her little honey-maned head and screamed at the ceiling
of the shower room as Stryker relentlessly drove his mammooth organ into
her rectal passage.  Her sobbing shrieks and protests only served to make
him harder and more cruel and he smiled as his cock pushed inward slightly
greased by his piss and her own efforts to obey him.  The child's anus was
incredibly tight and Stryker relished the resistance it offered.  He
gritted his teeth and sunk his strong hands into the child's hips to the
bone in order to achieve as firm a grip on her as possible.  Her skin
bunched up around his bruising fingers and her knees slithered on the
piss-wet floor as she tried instinctively to spread herself open for the
hulking assailant, to assist him in her own violation.
   "That's right," he encouraged.  "...open up for your God, you little
fuck..."
   This act of brutal sodomy was incredibly pleasurable for Stryker.  To
rape a female before killing her was an act of supreme mastery.  And to
take this young innocent victim that had no concept that such violence even
existed in the world, to call a lovely child every filthy gutter name he
could think of, to make her bleed and drink piss and to penetrate her, to
own her with his hard demanding cock and ultimately to steal even her hope
of a loving God and goodness before slaying her...this was the elysian
height of the most Satanic sadism and he bent to the task with joyful
energy.
   At the moment before the fat, engorged crown of Stryker's cock popped
through the anal muscle Doreen's little asshole was stretched to its
ultimate limit, torn and bleeding.  He held her there for a few moments
relishing her mindless screams as her head banged against the floor, her
hair dipping in the piss-puddle and spraying piss-drops in every direction
as her face came up to look up and back at him then fell back, her cheek
slapping the urine-covered tile, her little fingers reaching for air up
behind her as her bound hands struggled against the rope.  Then, with an
animalistic grunt he pulled forcefully on her hips and thrust past her
muscle burying his cock in her shit-chute.
   The fourth grader screeched deafeningly as she was ruthlessly violated,
Stryker's cock pumping in and out...almost all the way out of her bleeding
asshole, the crown of his sex jammed again in the sensitive puckered skin
then roughly in...in deep...all the way in...right up against the faeces
deep in her bowels...
   With a choking rattle Doreen vomited as the killer's cock stabbed deep
into her innards.
   "Yeahh!" Stryker roared grabbing the child by her blonde hair, leaning
over her to push her face down into the piss and vomit, his powerful hips
ramming his cock to the hilt making her choke and vomit yet again, making
her cough and gasp and shriek and sob delightfully.
   "Puke your guts out, whore!"
   Yet again Doreen vomited spasmodically, bile and food particles
exploding from her groaning lips and Stryker lifted her head and slammed it
face first into the tiled floor breaking the child's nose with a loud
crack. She gave out a yelp and slumped weakly.
   Fiercely, Stryker fucked the half-conscious child letting go of her hair
to take a grip of her hips again, slamming in and out of her, his long
cartoon-tattooed shaft slimy with blood and dung.  He fucked her to the
very edge of orgasm, closing his eyes to focus his full attention on the
powerful sensations in his genitals.  It was almost as if he were
masturbating and using her as a piece of meat around his shaft, as if she
counted for nothing but his savage sexual pleasure.  He pumped rapidly, and
Doreen's little body shook with the rocking thrusts as she moaned weakly,
blood and snot dripping from her face.  When he could get no closer without
exploding orgasmically Stryker stopped suddenly, leaving his throbbing cock
in his tiny victim.  Then after a few moments he began again, grunting, his
breath coming faster and faster, his heart beating furiously as he drew
closer to the finish line, riding his little-girl pony pitilessly.  And
again, a micro-second short of ecstasy he ceased, staying inside her,
regaining his breath then slowly, so as to hurt her as much as possible,
withdrawing, pulling his huge meat out of his little girl.
   She collapsed and lay on the floor.
   But the killer wasn't through.
   Standing before her he dragged her up on her knees by her hair, a giant
of a man towering over a bleeding bound helpless child.
   He leaned her head all the way back to look into her face.
   Her pretty little nose was twisted and purple, one eye was almost
swollen shut; blood, vomit, and piss dribbled down her chin.
   Her brown eyes were vacant, lifeless.
   "Lick your shit off my cock," Stryker ordered.
   She whimpered suddenly and began to cry and babble.
   "Do it!" Stryker snarled.  "Do it you worthless piece of garbage...God
orders you to do it...useless little tramp...Lick the shit off me NOW!"
   Hopelessly, the child leaned forward and stuck out her tongue.
   Stryker guided her head to his prick and rubbed his cock on her mouth
wiping the brown streaks off on her lips.  Then he wiped it off on her
cheeks and hair.
   Mindlessly, she let him handle her, her tongue just hanging out of her
gaping drooling mouth and when he was finished he took her tongue between
thumb and forefinger and reached into the knapsack on the floor.
   The large fishing hook was used for game fishing but for Stryker there
was no better catch than this.
   He pierced Doreen's little tongue from underneath with the sharp hook
and pulled on it until its point ripped through the top of her tongue.  The
terrible pain of the piercing made her begin to squeal and sob again but he
held her easily and forced her to get up on her little feet by pulling up
slowly on the hook in her tongue.
   He walked her across the room this way, slowly tugging on the hook.
   "Agghhh!agh -ahhh-ghhggg.." she groaned unable to see where she was
being led, her head forced back so that she stared mindlessly at the pipes
in the ceiling.
   "That's right, little fishie..." Stryker cooed in an eerie sing-songy
voice. "Come on...come on, little fishie..."
   "Agghh!"
   "Daddy's got some special plans for his little fishie...mm-hmmm...yes he
does..."
   "G-ghh!"
   "Daddy's gonna cut little fishie to little fucking bits..."
   "N-Ngghhh!  NGH!"
   "Oh yes...yes he is...come on...keep moving...that's it..."
   He led her to the showerheads on the wall at the end of the large tiled
room.
   There he had hung a wire from the ceiling and to that wire, from the end
of which a small clip hung, he now firmly connected the fish-hook that had
snared Doreen's little pink tongue.  With a loud metallic click the clip
closed on the metal loop designed for the fishing line to go through and
the child effectively hung from the shower room ceiling by her tongue.
   Moving slowly around his victim, enjoying her visible anguish and
terror, Stryker loosened the ropes around her wrists freeing her arms. 
Then he wrapped strands of wire around the base of her little thumbs and
pulled each arm to tiled columns on either side of the room so that she
stood, head upward, tongue pulled almost all the way out of her head by the
hook, and arms wide apart, her delicate, white, thumb-bound hands closing
and opening.
   Taking a metal pipe which leaned against the wall, Stryker tied the
child's ankles to it, about two feet apart, to eyelet hooks that had been
soldered to the pipe, effectively using the object, the purpose of which he
did not know or care about, as a spreader bar.
   Then, after picking up a thin metal rod, which was about four feet long,
he went from faucet handle to faucet handle opening a furious flow from
each showerhead.
   Warm steamy water hissed and sprayed into the tiled room at first
spurting loudly as air in the pipes cleared then maintaining an even
drizzling flow.
   Doreen stood in the focus point of all the shower heads and soon her
naked blood-streaked body was washed clean and her blonde hair hung in
thick wet strands down between her shoulderblades.
   Stryker walked slowly around the bound child admiring the way her skin
gleamed in the strange glow of the emergency lamps.
   He reached up for the wire that was connected to the hook through her
tongue.  The wire dangled off a pulley and as he tugged on it Doreen gasped
and was pulled upward on her tip-toes.
   The showerheads roared and water poured into the drains in the floor.
   Stryker knew his victim had started sobbing again but he couldn't make
it out over the steady noise.
   He stroked himself for a few moments and took a deep breath.
   It was time for the kill.
   He raised the long thin metal rod and standing directly in front of
Doreen Chapman he began to swing it with all his strength across the front
of her wet body.  Because he was nearly three feet taller than she he had
to crouch slightly to direct his blows across her little chest and abdomen.
   From the first slash the child began to screech wildly, held helplessly
for the attack by her wired thumbs, and bound ankles, but especially by the
thick metal hook through her tongue which forced her to keep her head
angled upward and did not allow her to look at her attacker or gauge when
the blows would come.
   The thin steel rod whanged and thudded into wet girlmeat flaying the
living skin off her.  Viciously and methodically, delivering each blow and
waiting a moment to deliver the next, Stryker whipped his victim and
watched the effect of each single hit, the jerking spasming movements in
her legs, her tormented writhing, her babbling screams, her pretty little
feet arched on the slippery tiles.
   He focused his attack first on her little titties, tearing red stripes
across the knife line he had originally laid on her, across her sliced
nipple and her good nipple until both nipples were ripped, gashed and
dribbling blood which the water carried off her body and into the drains in
the tiled floor.  Then he moved down her ribcage occasionally hitting her
hard enough to cut to the bone, occasionally hard enough to crack a rib or
chip it so that the little girl screamed and tried to twist away from the
horrible pain but was held in place, held there, trapped, for him.
   Both victim and attacker were haloed in steam against the glowing
fluorescent emergency lamps as Stryker continued his assault, stroking
himself with his free hand, biting his lower lip in deep concentration.
   He swung at her slender arms from her wrists to her shoulders laying
down stripe after bleeding stripe on the outstretched limbs.  Each cut on
the sensitive flesh was like the kiss of a searing hot flame and she
reminded him of a butterfly pinned between two nails.  He enjoyed whipping
her arms and watching her almost leap off the floor, as if she wanted
nothing more desperately than to take flight, to launch herself free of the
vicious punishment he was forcing upon her.
   Hitting her harder and harder with the steel rod he moved quickly down
to her knife-cut belly laying stripe after stripe across the screaming
child's midriff. He moved down her pretty little thighs laying gash after
gash on her.  And wherever his horizontal gashes intersected the vertical
ones his knife had earlier made on her, the skin tore beautifully, flowered
and sprayed blood down her spread legs.  Cruelly, he took careful aim and
slashed at her little pussy, making the tip of the rod rip into the soft
folds of girlskin and against the babyfat of her raped mons.
   Blood and water ran across the tiles.
   Doreen danced and sobbed to the fiery pain her weight first on one tense
foot, then the other coming up slightly off the floor, then swinging in the
opposite direction.  Wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, her hooked tongue spurting
blood she screamed at the pipes in the ceiling in the heart of the dead
building.
   Moving around to take up a position behind his child victim Stryker now
took aim on her un-marked back and laid almost sixty cuts from her neck to
her waist tearing her young skin away in strips.  Blood spattered the tiled
walls and pillars as Stryker ripped into his victim with unstoppable
murderousness.  Every few cuts he would prod Doreen with the tip of the
metal rod hard making her cry out even more shrilly, stabbing her back and
legs with the thin rod, drawing fresh blood and leaving tiny hole wounds in
her.
   Smiling and making small animal noises with each swing he took aim on
her round little ass-globes.
   The metal rod slashed and tore at Doreen's beautifully shaped butt. 
Even at ten, the little slut already had a perfect apple-shaped rear which
no doubt would have elicited much attention in her adolescent years.  It
was wonderful for Stryker to know she would never get there, however.  This
little cunt would not be breaking any hearts in this world.  Angrily,
letting all his rage and hatred of female explode in him, Stryker whipped
the little-girl's asscheeks down to meat ribbons.  She tried to yank her
arms free and one thumb snapped loudly.  Stryker stepped up to her to rub
his big cock in the bloody flesh, placing the metal rod in front of her,
one hand on each end, and pulling it back to snare her neck and force her
wet bleeding body back against him, leaning down to whisper in her ear...
   "...suffer you little pig...suffer and die for your God..."
   And he stepped back and continued to whip her little ass with the metal
rod until pieces of flesh split off her and rolled down her thighs.
   Now, the fourth grader was almost passing out.  Bright flashes were
bursting in her eyes as she fought to stay on her arched feet but her
assailant continued his destruction moving down her shapely little legs,
the legs he'd seen pumping the bicycle pedals as he'd watched from the van,
sun-warmed as her little pink dress had flown back in the wind.  Again she
yanked on her wire-bound hands and her other thumb snapped loudly making
her give out a keening howl.
   Feeding on her suffering, his rage hit a feverish climax as he delivered
full- strength cuts across Doreen's lanky bleeding thighs and calves.  He
was hitting her so hard now that the rod was embedding itself in her skin
and he sometimes had to tear it out of her to hit her again.
   Finally he went down on one knee to aim his blows at her feet beginning
with the one his knife had cut a bloody cross on.
   Sharp stabbing pain moved up the child's bloody legs with his first
blows and she made a wild screeching sound as she tried to spin around. 
The wires bit and tore into her thumbs cutting into her arteries.  Blood
pumped from the wounds and was swept away by the warm hissing water.
   Stryker swung pacing each slash carefully, counting to three between
each hit.
   First one foot then the other.  Back and forth.  Sometimes twice on the
wounded foot.  Striping her little limbs.  Placing each cut with deliberate
and cold- blooded calculation.
   The sadist was definitely in his element now.
   He was the God of pain.
   He was the God of destruction.
   His victim's blood was flowing away with the water.
   He was killing her. a He tore the skin off her heels.
   Slashed at her Achilles tendons.
   Cut and cut and cut away.
   Suddenly, Doreen gasped and jerked violently.  Then with a groaning sigh
she fell forward.
   The hook ripped her tongue out of her head as she slammed down on her
knees, one leg snapping loudly as it struck the tiled floor, her arms still
held high and wide by the broken bleeding swollen thumbs.
   Stryker tossed the steel rod aside and unsheathed his knife.
   He stood before the broken kneeling tongueless child.
   She looked up at him in a fading daze as he put the knife to her throat.
   Effortlessly he sliced into her neck and blood began to jet from the
wound.
   Doreen Chapman was moments away from death, thumbs broken, crucified
hands and jugular artery spurting out her life in the flowing stream of
water.
   She looked up at God with hollow eyes.
   There was no mercy in Him.
   She knew He would be the last thing she would know...His cruelty...the
savage pain He'd given her...the degrading words He'd spoken to her...it
was so unfair...she was just a little girl...and now she would die alone
with the monster... the monster God that had come to claim her life...she
would die for Him...to please Him with her death.
   Above her her gashed-out tongue moved back and forth like a pendulum in
an old clock ticking away her last moments.
   With quick slashes Stryker cut through the wires that held the child up
by her arms and she fell forward against him, hot, bloody and weak.
   For a moment he let her lean there, both of them, killer and victim, in
the focus of the steaming water hissing from the showerheads, her cheeks
against his hard belly, then he reached down and freed her slashed feet
from the spreader bar, pushed his hand into her bleeding face, pushed her
backward to send her slamming on her back across the wet tiles.
   He fell to his knees and spread her bloody thighs apart.
   Entering her was much easier this time.  He slid all the way into her
wet broken body with almost no effort.
   The knife was in his hand.
   He plunged it into her whipped belly as he fucked her.
   He gutted her, making deep fierce angry cuts in her and reaching in to
pull out her organs and intestines.  The fresh smell of young slaughtered
female filled his nostrils and his cock began to tingle.
   Handling her innards excited him beyond all control and he felt the hot
spurts begin deep in his balls.
   He shouted as the full force of the orgasm's first wave hit and he
reached into the dying child with both hands to yank out her viscera.
   Incredibly she was still alive for him, still babbling weakly, lying in
a pool of watery blood and pieces of meat and guts.
   Stryker threw his head back and roared as the orgasm peaked, Doreen
Chapman's insides dangling from his outstretched hands.
   After a few seconds he let the guts fall with a wet glop and he slid
back out of the mess that had once been a lovely little girl riding her
bike on a Sunday afternoon.
   Rising to stand over the still living victim in the steamy flow from the
old showerheads Stryker felt himself getting hard again.
   He crouched over her little face jerking off.
   In his mind he could see the ghosts of the Tervale High boys, young,
full of energy, wet athletic adolescent males jerking off in a circle
around him.
   All the boys who had showered here long ago and had moved on into the
world, faceless and defeated.
   "Yeah!" they exclaimed.
   "Way to go!"
   "Kill the little fuck!"
   "Show er, dude!  SHOW ER!"
   He pushed his asshole down against Doreen's bloody tongueless mouth and
broken nose rubbing himself down hard on her.  Soon he put his whole weight
down on her, sitting on her face, a soft barely audible gasp coming from
her slashed throat as her neck snapped like a dead branch.
   Slowly, still masturbating with slow hard strokes, he got up off her and
took one step back.
   Her pretty face was motionless, eyes open in death.
   He felt the sperm rise from his balls again and he smiled.
   Leaning forward he emptied a full load in her bloody gaping mouth
watching the thick white gobs disappear down the dark lifeless throat of
the murdered child, jets of shower water spattering her face and hair.
   Finally, he rose, took the small hatchet from the knapsack and cut
Doreen Chapman to pieces.  It took him almost two hours.  He cut hands from
arms, arms from torso, feet from legs, legs from thighs, thighs from torso.
Then he cut her torso in half and cut her pretty head clean off her neck
with one blow.  He left the water on as he butchered the dead child and the
blood and bits of her ran in long red streams into the drain.
   He stood over the pieces of Doreen Chapman and jerked off again, his cum
spurting down on her butchered carcass.
   Then he put her in the same canvas bag he'd brought her in on.
   He shut the water off, collected his clothes and gear, and got dressed.
   It was almost dawn when he drove out to the Franconia Wild Life
Preserve.
   He buried the remains of the fourth grader near a dense line of pine
trees.
   The first reports of her disappearance would be on the news three days
later.
   By then Stryker would already be in another town cruising for fresh
meat.
   WOODBURN