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

                               
                               Cedarville Slaughter

Part One
The Petersen House


1.

	Missing Since 6/98', the poster outside the cinema multiplex in the mall said. 
It showed a pretty teenage girl smiling for her high-school yearbook picture.  Kelli
Ann Wallford',  read the caption.  In the picture the girl wore a white v-neck blouse;
a small gold chain hung from her neck with a tiny crucifix on it.  Last seen in the
vicinity of Cedarville at this movie theater.  If you have any information on her
whereabouts contact _______'
	The man who called himself Dan had some information. In fact, he knew
exactly where Kelli Ann was. 
	But he was not about to contact anyone.
	Because Kelli Ann was in the woods five miles out of town, and he had put
her there. He'd buried her butchered body naked in a muddy creek-bed and burned
all her clothes.  But he'd kept the little crucifix as a memento of the delicious kill.
	A vague smile passed over his face as the memory of Kelli Ann's suffering
face in the claustrophobic torture room in the abandoned farm house came to him,
superimposed on the innocently cheerful picture on the wall outside the theater. He
had really enjoyed her. His knife had slowly fucked her young body, carving and
slicing her sweet flesh making her scream and wail, spattering floor and walls with
her warm blood.
	Kelli was his first victim in this town.
	And though he was now sure she wasn't going to be the last he knew that
very soon he would have to move on.
	Cedarville was perfect for Dan's handiwork, a small central Florida town with
a state college in the middle of it.  Summer session had started a week before and
the sweet young girls clad in tight shorts or tiny skirts that fluttered around their
tanned thighs were everywhere. 
	 Last year Kelli had been one of those girls. A lovely vibrant first-year
oceanography student obsessed with staying in shape, jogging every morning and
riding her bike late at night in the dark streets around the dorms.
	Now, as he waited in the dirt-streaked mustard-yellow Cherokee just outside
the movieplex the man who called himself Dan considered how much he'd enjoyed
stifling the life in Kelli Ann, stifling the beauty, the intelligence, and the hopes of the
smart young science student. It had been a detailed artistic endeavor that took him
six long pleasure filled days and seven brutal sadistic nights until finally he was able
to look right into Kelli's aquagreen eyes and watch all hope and all life ebb from
them. It pleased him intensely to know those lovely eyes would never again glance
upon the ocean and hunger for its secrets, and he thought how lucky he'd been to
stumble upon this town.  
	Actually, he had not completely stumbled upon it.  He had fantasized about
visiting Ted Bundy's old stomping grounds for some time and finally found himself
with enough money in his pocket to spend a couple of years on the road.  So he'd
come to Cedarville, site of a vicious co-ed killing that had never really been pinned
on Bundy, but which had all the trademarks of the infamous girl-butcher. In fact,
several notorious rapists and girl-killers had been drawn to this area and Dan knew
it was dangerous for him, and because of that, more of a thrill, to be here.
	  Back in the late 60's, Tom Waverly, the man who now called himself Dan,
then a teenager, had read about Bundy, getting a fine-sized boner wondering what it
was like to enter a building full of sleeping half-naked girls and slaughter them with
a club, then fuck their smashed up bodies...Sweet-smelling, freshly-bathed firm
young bitches relaxed and unsuspecting in the shadows, their slow even breathing in
the darkness as the killer steps close to watch them sleep...shoes, books, clothes
everywhere, panties and bras draped over chairs or on the carpeted floor, an arm
spilled over a pillow, graceful hand in repose, a long lovely bare leg extending from
under a sheet...until with a snarl he brings down that hard, rough, dirty piece of
wood, raises its heaviness high and brings it down with pulverizing swiftness.  It
would take a couple of blows, heavy thumping, crunching blows to their pretty
heads. They might shudder and open their eyes and whimper after the first but after
the second or third there would be only silence.  And then he could leisurely strip
naked...peel whatever clothes the victims might have been sleeping in off them and
spread their still warm nakedness open, the bed wet with blood and piss as he
mounts them, possesses them, slides deep into their dead wombs...Bundy had killed
eight women that night and no one heard or saw a thing.  It wasn't until Bundy
pulled the same stunt again at another college where witnesses saw him leaving the
scene that investigators concluded he'd done both crimes.
	Dan the Knife Man had studied Bundy's activities and those of similar
criminals closely.  Unquestionably Bundy was a genius but he had made mistakes. 
Every serial killer makes mistakes.  And in the beginning Dan had made mistakes of
his own.  But he was learning.  It took time and patience to become a consummate
bitch-killer but Dan was determined he would be the best and never be caught.
	He'd watched Kelli Ann for days before making his move.
	He learned all about her family and background, about the boyfriend she was
seeing in Cedarville that no one knew about, about her love for movies.
	Kelli Ann Wallford was someone's daughter and someone's sister and
someone's love. She was not just an unknown entity to Dan the Knife Man. 
	 Early in his murdering career Dan had attacked targets randomly, without
knowing his victims or where they came from.  As time went on he discovered that
it was so much more pleasurable for him if he knew them, knew all about them.  In
that way when he extinguished their life he could derive monstrous sadistic
enjoyment from knowing he had hurt not just one individual but a whole group of
people, a whole community. Because the girls he was killing now were not just
hookers or streetwhores or runaways.  He wanted the fucking cream of the crop. 
He wanted little valecditorian bitches that scored 3.8s in all their school subjects, that
came from well-to-do families and were involved in civic activities.  Smart little do-
gooders who dressed enticingly and in expensive clothes and made men's heads
turn but who also knew how to appear innocent and demure and landed high-
paying positions.  Dan was after the elite cunts before they became what they
wanted to be. He was there to cut the wings off the little butterflies before they flew.
	This evolution of his killing method had come after he'd massacred three girls
at the Warren College for Women five years earlier.  He discovered that the
excitement of the slaughter did not end after he'd finished with the girls and
dumped their remains in a lake.  Later, everytime he saw the parents, family and
friends of the slaughtered females crying on television talk shows, everytime he read
a story in a newspaper or magazine about the killing, in which of course the details
were left out, he found himself salivating and getting hard, just like when he first
tracked a target down a street, just like when he first looked into their eyes and saw
their realization of his intentions there, their horror, their lovely unrepressed and
unashamed terror.
	That raw atavistic excitement now pulsed in him as he watched his new
target emerge from the movie theater in the mall. 
	Kathie Daniels. High school class of 1996. Parents divorced in 1993.
Brunette, 5'8, big-titted, slender-waisted little cunt...she was laughing with her
friends, walking toward the parking lot, going past him and not even giving him a
second glance.  Why would she?  A long-haired guy in a Cherokee maybe waiting
for somebody. He was completely invisible.  And a year had passed since Kelli Ann. 
Nobody even looked at the poster on the wall anymore. It had been put there
months before and was already starting to fade from exposure to the harsh Florida
sun.
	Kathie was hanging with her buddies, Larissa and Donna.  They often went
to the movies and to the mall together. Dan knew. He'd watched them many times,
his cock hard, a nervous tingling in his stomach, a cool sweat of anticipation on his
forehead. He'd been watching Kathie for weeks in fact, ever since the little bitch had
walked past him on a street near the University campus.
She had not noticed him then, either, or since. She had not seen the hungry killer-
eyes taking in the big swell of boob-flesh under her U. of F. t-shirt or her long bare
slender legs and full shapely ass in her white gym shorts. And, though his main
target was Kathie, the big-titted sophomore, he wasn't going to mind turning all
three girls into missing posters, not at all. The more the merrier, Dan thought, or
should he say: the bloodier?
	He started up the Cherokee and moved slowly toward the exit of the lot
to wait for the blue Mercedes convertible with the three girls.
	He knew that on weekends Kathie left her dorm and spent the weekends
at the Petersen house, Larissa's parents' house, on the lake outside of town.  He
knew that Petersen and his wife travelled often and that this weekend they
were in L.A. and would not return until Wednesday.  He knew the three girls
would probably be alone and unprotected and earlier that evening he'd made real
sure of that.  He'd gone to the Petersen house to have a real good look around and
confirm his plan of action, and to take care of business.
	The house had no burglar alarm and was well isolated, surrounded by woods
on three sides and the lake in the back. The nearest house was nearly three city
blocks away.  As he walked around the well-kept upscale property, his hiking boots
crunching the pine needles, the pants of his denim jeans brushing the green ferns,
the smell and sounds of the woods all around him, the fading sunset coming through
the leaves, Dan felt the familiar rush, haunted by the delicious memories of other
kills and other woods.  He'd found the main electrical and phone lines, donned his
thick leather gloves, climbed up on a conveniently placed fence that ran along the
side of the property, and cut the power to the house, carefully taping the wires so
no one would see they'd been cut; then he severed the lines at the phone jack
outside.  Afterwards he'd driven to the mall, had a sandwich at a crowded
restaurant and gone to the movieplex to wait.  He needed finally to make sure that
the girls were alone and unaccompanied and that they would stick to their
customary plans.
	Now, rows of headlights shone in his rear-view mirror and finally the blue
convertible passed by and exited the mall parking lot.  The three girls were laughing
gleefully.
	Everything was exactly as it should be.
	The man who called himself Dan smiled and pulled out on to the highway.
				

2.
	"That movie sucked big time," Larissa said.
	Kathie in the back seat laughed first.
	Her laugh was rich and sexy.
	Donna who sat in the front just made a face and looked back at Kathie.
	"Yeah," she said. "Like who's gonna stick around THAT house and wait for
the guy with the ax to come back?"
	"Only somebody in a movie," Kathie said.
	"Right," Larissa replied. "In a BAD movie..."
	The girls laughed.
	"Whose idea was it to see that piece of crap, anyway?" Kathie said.
	"I wonder," Larissa pretended to muse while Donna looked back at Kathie
and pointed with a shaking red-nailed index.
	"Oh no," Kathie replied defensively. "I'm not taking the blame...you guys
agreed...we all sat there and agreed...Its not MY fault!"
	Donna turned and looked forward again. It was impossible in the darkness to
tell that her eyes were an incredible shade of green. They gleamed darkly as she
smiled.
	"I don't know..." she said wistfully. "That guy was kinda...sexy."
	"EEwwww!" her two friends shot back in unison.
	They were on highway 143 about twelve minutes out of Cedarville when the
rain started.
	"Oh shit!" Donna wailed.
	Larissa pulled the car to the side of the road and pressed the switch that
closed the top.  The rain was coming down hard and by the time the convertible's
roof closed over them the girls were soaked and screaming and laughing.  Like
many tropical rainstorms this one had come quickly, violently and unannounced.
	The girls did not see the yellow Cherokee pass them and continue up the
road.
	Two more vehicles passed them before they finally got on the blacktop again.
	"This has not been a memorable night," Donna commented moving her
hands through her wet dark brown hair. She had a page-cut, short but feminine and
she wore big silver-hoop earings. "Correction," she continued. "It has been a
memorable night...but for all the WRONG reasons."  
	All three girls were pretty, though Kathie was indisputably the most attractive
and the most top'-heavy, something her two companions never let her forget.
	"God," Larissa had joked once. "You're going to have to register those
things as dangerous weapons..."
	Kathie had blushed and smiled.
	Larissa Petersen was a typical Florida blonde, long straight hair halfway down
her back, not as big-titted as her friend but not exactly flat-chested, and was always
wearing shorts and sandals.  She and her family had lived in Cedarville since she
was very small and she had no memory of the time they had lived in Pennsylvania.
Florida was her second skin.
	Kathie Daniels was true brunette with a luscious mane of jet black hair that
hung over her forehead in wispy bangs, now soaked, and down over her shoulders. 
	She wore a striped top and a black mini-skirt that showed most of her
exquisite alabaster-toned thighs.  While Larissa and Donna always wore flat shoes or
beach sandals Kathie always wore clunky black high-heel clogs or, like tonight, sexy
pumps that made her lovely leg and calf muscles stand out and made
every man turn his head as she walked by.  She also had a gothic tattoo around her
right ankle and four small rings on her left ear-lobe. 
	"What time is it?" she asked.
	Larissa looked at the green digital numbers on the dashboard clock.
	"Ten thirty," Kathie's frien replied.
	"Its early," Donna said, her eyes on the wet road ahead.
	The wipers ticked-tocked softly as the Mercedes purred down the road eating
up the intermittent white lines, tires hissing on the rain-soaked asphalt.
	"Yeah," Larissa added. "Maybe we can catch something on cable to get that
movie out of our heads."
	"I got that interview tomorrow," Kathie reminded them. "I'm gonna need to
get some sleep."
	"Oh yeah," Donna mocked. "How could we forget. Little miss smarty-pants
has an interview at Lowell, Rand and Strickland...the biggest advertising agency in
town."
	"Its only a summer job, Donna," Kathie said rolling her eyes. "They'll
probably have me getting coffee and emptying the trash."
	"They'll probably make you head of the art department," Larissa said.
	"Naaaa," Kathie replied. 
	The turn-off for the house came up in the headlights and Larissa swung the
Mercedes off 143 and on to the dirt road which was now puddled and muddy.
	"When's your dad gonna pave this?" Donna asked cynically.
	Larissa made a face and maneuvered slowly up the dark, bumpy mile-and-
half stretch of driveway.
	It was 10:45 when the girls ran from the car and toward the dark house.
	They did not see the Cherokee come up the driveway and around the
Mercedes.
	The rain had died down to a drizzle.
	Larissa got turned the keys in the lock, opened the door and hit the light
switch.  Nothing happened.
	"Great."
	"Just what we needed to top off this wonderful night," Donna replied.
	Larissa went into the darkened house while Donna and Kathie waited in the
doorway.
	She tried all the lights.
	"Must be a power failure," she called from the kitchen.
	She reached for the phone and started to push buttons almost before she
realized there was no dial tone.
	"What do we do?" she called moving toward the hallway to the bedroom.
	"Lari!" Donna called out.
	There was an odd sense of alarm in her voice.
	Now what the fuck is wrong with her, Larissa thought. Probably a bug or a
frog crawling around on the porch.
	"Keep your shirt on...I'll be right there," Larissa said as she picked up the
phone in the bedroom.
	It was dead too.
	"You better come now, Lari..." Donna's voice was quivery.
	Larissa had never heard her friend sound like that.
	As she returned to the front of the house she saw that there was light
streaming in through the windows and that her friends were silouhetted in it.
	She realized it was headlights.
	"Yeah, Lari," a man's voice said.
	It was a dark cold voice that froze Larissa in her tracks.
	"Get the fuck out here, now."


3.
	Dan ordered the three young women to kneel on the porch of the house and
he held the Winchester Defender pump-action shotgun on them as he stood in front
of the Cherokee.
	They faced him, blinded by the truck's high-beams as he lit up a cigarette and
studied his victims.
	All they could see was a tall long-haired shadow and the fat barrel of 
the gun aimed at them.
	Donna had started to cry.
	"Shut up," the shadow ordered.
	She whimpered.
	"I said SHUT UP!" Dan snarled taking a couple of steps on the dirt toward
her. His boots made a sucking noise on the wet ground.
	She bit her lip and stifled a sob.
	He had made them kneel with their hands behind their heads and he studied
them carefully, three young delicious girls, wet, wearing next to nothing...
and they were all his.  He especially pondered Kathie's big tits, stiff nippled under
the wet blouse. He had special plans for those. Very special plans.
	"Alright," he said. "Listen up."
	His voice was low and mean and the girls were mesmerized by it.
	"All your miserable little lives you cunts have had your way."
	He took the cigarette from his lips and crushed it under his boot in the mud.
	"As of right now consider that shit in the past."
	He continued to hold the gun on them as he paced from side to side between
the Cherokee's glaring headlights.
	"No more daddy's credit card, no more boyfriends breaking their ass to take
you on a date, no more sugar and spice and everything nice. The world as you've
always known it has come to an end.
	"Tonight you have become my property. Tonight you will find out what it
means to be female in MY world. You are shit to me.  Nothing but meat to be used
for my pleasure...but just so's you know I mean what I say let me give you a for
instance."
	"You," he said indicating Larissa with the gun.
	"Get up...come down here...NOW!"
	"...o-ok...ok..."  Larissa replied getting slowly to her feet. The rubber soles of
her sandals scraped the wooden floor of the veranda as she moved toward the steps
and then down to the driveway.
	She stood at the bottom of the steps with her hands still on her blonde head,
the drizzling rain spattering her pretty face.
	"Strip," the man said.
	She looked at him as if he'd spoken in another language although she knew
what he'd said. It just wasn't registering.
	"Did you hear what I just told you, college girl?"
	She nodded, her lower lip trembling slightly.
	"...uh-huh..." she said softly.
	"Well, then what the fuck are you waiting for? DO IT! Take your
goddamned clothes off for me, NOW!"
	"Please," Kathie whimpered from the porch.
	Instantly the man turned on her.
	"I don't remember you having permission to talk, slut. When I say shut up, I
mean shut up. Do you understand me?"
	Kathie nodded.
	The man took a step toward her.
	"Say: Yes, sir. I understand....Go on. Say it."
	The rain made a soft pattering sound on the carpet of pine-needles and dead
leaves.
	"Y-yes..." Kathie began. She was trembling so bad she could barely keep her
balance and her knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the wooden porch.
	"...sir...I...understand."
	The wind brushed through the pine trees and far away thunder boomed.
	The man turned back to Larissa.
	Her silky yellow mane was waving in the wind around her pretty face. She
had an expression on her face like an all-American cheerleader after the team has
been creamed.
	"You still have your clothes on...?" 
	He raised the gun and aimed it at her head.
	"N-no no no..." Larissa whimpered and began to unbutton her blouse.
	He watched her strip, watched her trembling hands tugging at the wet
clothes, watched her step out of her sandals and on to the wet mud.
	She pulled her shorts down and stepped out of them standing there in her
white bra and Fruit of the Loom cotton panties.
	"...all of it, college girl." he said as she hesitated. 
	She began to cry as she reached back and undid her bra, pulling the straps off
her shoulders and letting the garment fall off her as she bent down to pull her
panties down her legs sobbing softly.
	She cringed before the agressor, slightly hunched, quivering, looking at the
ground. The two girls on the porch looked down too humiliated and terrified by
the shaming of their friend. Kathie tried to think but couldn't. Nothing she'd ever
experienced had even remotely prepared her for this moment.  Donna too was
paralyzed with disbelief.  This just could not be happening.  This was a nightmare.
	Dan stepped closer to Larissa and touched the barrel of the shotgun to her
thigh. She jerked to the feeling of the cold metal as he traced the smooth tanned
flesh upward to the beginning of her flat tummy. The image of the defeated
cheerleader remained strong in Dan's mind.  Even if this little cunt had never
carried a pom-pom or twirled a baton she could be cast in the part with no problem.
	His boot squished her expensive brassiere into the muddy dirt.
	"Get your hands behind your head, girl," he said softly. "I never told you to
put them down..."
	Larissa did as she was told bringing her arms up slowly.  Standing there 
naked, vulnerable, her shapely tanned body gleaming wet in the glow from the
truck's headlights, her clothes scattered around her, she was a delicious and fetching
target for the girl killer.
	The shotgun came up slowly past her rib-cage to the soft wet orb of her
breast.  In the glaring lights of his truck Dan could see the little bitch's nipples were
erect from the cold and the fear.
	He rubbed the barrel-hole of the .12 gauge Winchester across her nub and
smiled.
	"Yeahhh....fucking bitches...all your lives you've been put on a pedestal...
Such a pretty little girl. Such a smart little girl.'  That's what they tell you all day
long.  Are you daddy's little girl? Smile for daddy.  Lets see how pretty you are.'
Buying you things. Treating you like queens....well, the party's over now..."
	He stepped back and aimed the gun at Larissa's left thigh.
	"I said I would give you a for instance...here it is, girls. This is what you get
tonight."
	He pressed the trigger and the gun exploded loudly with a huge flash.
	At such close range the impact was devastating almost taking Larissa's leg
right off.  It lifted her up and slammed her naked body back almost ten feet in a
spatter of blood, flesh and muscle as she screamed and wailed then fell rolling over
twice to lie in a crumpled heap, bent in half and squirming.
	On the porch Kathie and Donna screamed and started to get to their feet.
	Dan the Knife Man aimed the gun at them.
	"Stay put or DIE!"
	He strode slowly to the wounded youth and stood over her, stood on the wet
ground her muddied discarded underclothes under his booted feet.
	His cock pushed out the fabric of his jeans and throbbed. His mouth was dry.
	The naked victim looked up at him past strands of wet hair that curtained her
eyes.  Her mouth was wide open and she was trying to say something but 
all that came out was agh - agh - aggh ...' The leg he had shot was twisted at 
an impossible angle with a black and bloody impact wound just above the
shattered knee from which blood jetted in rhythmic bursts.  No more cheering the
home team on, no more little victory dances, Dan mused. Central casting would
have to find another candidate....With his boot he kicked the little bitch over on her
back.  Her pretty hair (her father had called her angel-head' cause he said it
looked like a halo when the sun shone on it) fell away from her face and into the
puddled rain. There was mud on her pale cheek and she was still going agh - agh -
aghh -' looking up at him wide-eyed when he pump-cocked and aimed the gun
down at the other thigh, much higher, almost where it joined her abdomen, next to
the golden and neatly trimmed triangle of pussy-hair.
	"No!" Kathie screamed. "Pleeeease!"
	Gently but firmly Dan squeezed the trigger.
	The gun exploded again, bucking against the killer's grip as the girls on the
porch shrieked.
	Donna pissed herself and crumpled down, hunched against the wooden floor,
her forehead pressed into the wet slats.
	This time Larissa's body convulsed mightily with the flash-shock of the
powerful blast which nailed her into the ground.  Her eyes rolled upward and her
head arched, neck stretching, arms clutching the mud, her skull pushing into the
puddled ground, a gob of frothy vomit spilling from her lips. The explosive burst
seared her belly and pussy and tore her thigh apart spattering Dan and the front of
the Cherokee with blood. Larissa's blood and flesh hissed as it spattered the hot
headlights and thrummed on the metal grill of the truck.	
	Now the killer moved quickly going into the vehicle and retrieving a 
coil of barbed wire, tossing it up on the veranda.  While Kathie and Donna watched
sobbing softly, frozen in horror he took a large black duffel bag out of the truck and
several loops of thick rope and placed them beside the barbed wire. 	Then he re-
loaded the gun.
	On the ground, Larissa lay in a huge puddle of rain and mud and puke and
blood making an odd whining, gurgling sound, her hands clutching the ground on
either side, her eyes looking up sightlessly at the darkness above the trees.
	Her legs flared away from her abdomen at opposing and unacceptable angles
and the dynamic blast of Dan's gun had left a black smear of blood and flesh that 
bloomed around her...bits of her had even speckled the front wall of the house and
Kathie's arm and cheek and the front door which stood half-open with the keys still
in it, just as Larissa had left it.
	Dan had to hurry now. He knew the girl on the ground would die very soon
and he wanted to enjoy her fully before she did.
	He picked up the strands of rope and moved toward the two btiches on the
porch.

	
4.

	The drizzle of rain had intensified and the drops gleamed with silvery
briefness in the headlights of the Cherokee.  It was as if the truck was staring at
them, Kathie thought incongrously as she hung by her roped wrists. She and
Donna were both naked now and suspended by rope from an overhead beam
on the veranda.  The long-haired man had made them both take off their clothes as
he kept the gun trained on them.  He'd had to kick Donna a few times to get
her up on her feet.  The terrified girl whined in response to the sharp
thrust of Dan's boot and bawled as he yanked her head up by one of 
her hoop earings almost tearing her ear off. Then, listlessly they'd both obeyed
their attacker. They'd seen what he'd done to Larissa. There was no reason
he would hesitate to do the same or worse to either one of them.
	 In point of fact, Dan was not done with Larissa and was in a hurry to
get the two sweet bunnies on the porch into bondage so he could proceed.
	Once he'd tied each woman's wrists tightly, hands clasped together and
hoisted the arms high as he pulled the rope and knotted it to a porch pillar he
bent down to bind their ankles and thighs, pulling their shoes off so that they
stood on arched feet, their painted toes on the white wet wooden planks 
of the veranda. Then he pressed big black rubber ball gags into their mouths
strapping them tight around their heads.
	Now he would get to work on Larissa before she bled to death
or passed out from shock.
	He didn't want the Cherokee's battery to give out so he started up the truck.
	Quickly he stripped naked, tossed his t-shirt and jeans, boots and socks into
the back seat of the vehicle  and tied the leather hunting belt around his waist.  To
the right of the metal buckle was his sheathed hunting knife.
	He liked the way it felt to be naked with the belt strapped around him like
that . It made him feel like a warrior, a hunter.
	He went to the black duffel bag and took two steel spikes, a wooden mallet,
and the strand of barbed wire, then he walked over to where Larissa lay mortally
wounded.
	Kathie thought the truck not only stared meanly at the scene but growled
now that its engine revved on idle, like a hungry demon.
	"Watch me, girls," Dan intoned in an eerie playful voice.
	"Watch Dan the Knife Man at work and play..."
	First he drove the steel stakes, which looked like tent pinions, deep into the
ground on either side of his victim, pounding them in with the wooden mallet, then
he pulled Larissa's arms apart and bound the wrists with barbed wire, one to each
stake.  She moaned as the metal barbs tore into her tender skin and struggled
weakly, indefensibly.
	Dan now knelt on the ground and grabbed Larissa's broken legs by her
ankles to drag her toward him, away from her bound arms, stretched, and he spread
her open.  She cried out inchoately.
	His cock cleaved the air fully erect now, like a snake's head, red and hard as
he positioned the wounded youth the way he wanted her.
	She struggled weakly and managed only to raise her head off the ground and
look up at him with soulful pleading eyes as the raindrops spattered her face.
	Then her head fell back and he took a choke-hold of her neck as he placed his
cock at her pussyslit and drove forward into her moist cooze.
	It was hideous, cruel, monstrous rape and Kathie could not help but look,
drawn to the vision of the brutal killer heartlessly fucking her spreadeagled, nearly
dead friend on the muddy driveway.
	She glanced sideways to see that Donna too was staring, unable to look away,
blood trickling from the earlobe Dan had savagely yanked on, a puddle of
piss around her feet on the floor.
	Dan's body, shining under the falling rain was a perfect masculine body.
It was evident to the girls that he worked out and stayed in shape and under any
other circumstances would have been real nice to look at.  Now he was a monster
and they stared, fascinated the way a moth is fascinated by the light of the candle
flame, buzzing around in circles until it is drawn in and burned. 
	His movements as he fucked the dying woman were graceful and powerful,
like a panther's.  He knelt between her blown-away thighs and pumped his cock
with slow deliberate thrusts of his powerful hips in and out of her blonde pussy. 
And even if it was a dry fuck, it felt good to slam his cock home, all the way in to
his fat hanging ball-sacs, making Larissa grunt and bite her lip as his knees dug into
the mud and his hands seized and held her tits with bruising force.
	"You're gonna die, pig," he growled. "Yeah..ahh...yeah...you're gonna
die fucking me."
	"...pleeease...ohh...God...pleease...." Larissa pleaded but he only rammed
into her harder staring down at her like a savage animal, his bare feet planted
firmly in the wet ground.
	"Ghh!GGgg!" the gagged, suspended women on the veranda intoned in
unison as now Dan drew his long serrated hunting knife from the sheath.
	"Yeah, little piggy," he was growling as he drew small surface cuts all over
the blonde girl's chest and breasts fucking her with slow even strokes as he leaned
over her, supporting himself on one arm, his hand flat on the ground next to her
head.
	He moved beautifully, almost like a dancer, his hips swiveling and thrusting
with sensual rhythm as he cut the little bitch, cut her expertly, cut her as only
Dan the Knife Man could cut, with killing love, the way he'd cut his first kill as she
lay on the pickup truck in that cold alley, a whore whose name he never even
knew....or Anna Wilkins, or the three college girls, Nancy, Cindy, and Evelyn who
now lay at the bottom of Greelie's pond near Orchidea...or Kelli Ann who slept in
her grave not far from the Petersen house in the woods.
	He drew long cuts across Larissa's lovely belly right into her blonde crotch
and even down into her shot-blasted thighs.
	He cut her arms and shoulders and made her lick the blood off the blade...
then cut her her cheek and pushed the tip of the knife into her eyebrow until blood
welled up in her eye-socket.
	Still fucking her he sat back on his haunches seized her right nipple in his
muddied hand and sliced it clean off with one sharp movement.
	Now Larissa came to life screaming and pleading frenziedly for her life and
the girls on the porch shouted into their gags for help and begged the killer for
mercy and Dan only smiled and chuckled at the wonderful cacophany of helpless
female sounds all around him as he took the other nipple, tugged it upwards, Larissa
wide-eyed and shrieking as he cut it too from her and tossed it aside.  Blood spurted
from the college girl's mutilated tits and her pussy tightened around Dan's big cock
as she sobbed desperately. 
	It was time to finish her.
	The women on the porch watched him raise the knife above his head.
	"N-ogghhh!Nohh!N-gghhhh!" they screamed stamping their bound feet into
the wet floor of the veranda, twisting and tugging on their bound wrists. 
	With a wet thud the serrated hunting knife plunged into Larissa's chest, just
below her neck and her body leaped against the binding wire, wrists tearing and
fraying.
	She made a choked groaning sound and blood spurted from her lips and
nostrils as Dan began to drag the knife blade downward, cutting her open, slicing
into her abdomen, tearing diaphragm and esophagal tissue, opening her up as the
rain began to fall furiously, pelting killer and victim with thick droplets that
washed the flowing blood into the mud.  With deep concentration Dan pushed the
knife deeper and fucked her harder as she began to go into a final death spasm.
A hiss of gas audibly escaped the wound as he pierced the stomach and continued
into the intestinal sac, blood and shit pumping up out of her.
	Thunder boomed closer and lighning flashed in the sky over the house.	
	"Die, pig..." he muttered softly. "Die, die, die..."
	Donna choked and vomit oozed up around the tight ball-gag and spilled
down her neck and on to her tits as she sobbed and pressed her face into her
up-raised arm, eyes shut tightly.
	Kathie's eyes welled up with tears and she sobbed brokenly unable to stop
watching her friend's grisly murder, guts spilling up out of the defenseless female, 
Dan taking a piece of intestine and tugging on it as Larissa keened mindlessly.
	"YE-ahh!" Dan shouted as he pulled on Larissa's slimy guts and continued
to slice all the way down to her pussy slit. 	
	The killer took a handful of hot guts and organs and pressed them and
rubbed them against his muscular belly, his head arched back as he howled at the
stormy sky  like a wolf.  Then placing his knife on the ground he reached into the
long slicing gash he'd made in his victim and pried her apart with all his strength,
grunting with the effort as her ribs cracked open. Then, getting to his feet, standing
so that the female carcass lay between his strong legs, he began to piss into the
dying girl's innards.
	On the porch Kathie closed her eyes, hung her head and prayed silently.
	Gradually, Larissa's body stopped quivering and she looked up at her
killer as he emptied his bladder on her, his piss mixing with the hot summer
downpour and her red lifeblood, and she died, her eyes going glassy as his piss
stream reached her parted lips. He loomed over her filling her brain with its last
sensory input: ...the image of his smiling pleasure as he rubbed a messy handful of
her insides against his cheek, his long blonde hair washing down over his cruel face,
and the salty taste of his pungent hot piss in her blood-filled throat, a savage dry
crack of lightning above and then...nothing.
	And on the porch of the Petersen house, it seemed like forever before Kathie
opened her own eyes again.
	When she did Dan the Knife Man was standing in front of her in the glare of
the Cherokee's headlights, wet with rain and blood, knife returned to its sheath, his
blood-smeared cock cleaving the air like an eager javelin.
	The rain had died down to a drizzle again.
	"Your turn to please the Master, scumbag," he said softly.
	She felt her knees go weak and a soft cry escaped her gagged lips.
	On her thighs she felt the hot wet gush of her own urine as she fainted.


5.
	Outside she could hear the sound of the Cherokee's idling engine.
	Then she opened her eyes.
	He had brought her into the Petersen house and tied her to their king-size,
four poster bed after peeling back the quilt.  He'd laid her limp unresponsive body
on the sheets, roped her tightly to the posts, and then he'd gone into the bathroom
to shower himself clean of Larissa's blood and dry himself off, but Kathie had no
memory of it, only disconnected images, sounds...she was confused, her mind trying
to shut down.
	He had placed a circle of candles all around her, on the night-tables and the
floor and he stood at the foot of the bed watching.
	She tried to move but her wrists were tied snugly above her and her
ankles wide apart one limb to each of the four corner posts. The insides of her
thighs were still slightly moist from when she'd pissed herself earlier and the faint
smell of her own urine drifted in the air of the room. Her pale skin seemed to glow
in the dancing illumination of the candles and Dan took in the soft ripples of her
muscles under the flesh, especially the strong thigh muscles above her knees, the
pulse in her slender neck, her big luscious paps, the youthful firmness of her body,
its solidity and warmth as it lay on the wrinkled sheets. Besides the fading odor of
her terror-piss he could smell the woman smell of her like wet earth and it made his
heart pound.
	Kathie was spreadeagled and completely vulnerable to the Knife Man, just
like Larissa outside had been (she tried to erase that...the blood...the storm...)
	She wondered if Donna was still alive out there and then she noticed she
herself was no longer gagged, although her lips and jaw still hurt from the intrusion
of the large rubber ball.
	"Talk to me, pig," he said flatly. His voice was emotionless, cold...his eyes
fixed on her...he was stroking himself slowly, his strong legs apart.
	 There was something in him she could not explain...or dared not explain,
even to herself...a hunger, a vast and limitless...appetite.
	Now that he had cleaned himself she noticed how strikingly handsome this
cruel man was and terror flooded through her, terror and fascination and
helplessness, all at the same time.
	"Y-you....killed...her..." she said, her eyes filling up with tears.
	"Yeah," he said in that same flat neutral voice.  "...Nice, wasn't it?"
	Nice was probably the last word in the English language that she would have
ever chosen.
	"You - You've done this before...?" she said. Her eyes could not turn from
his.
	"You bet, college girl. Many times. And I plan to go on doing it as long as I
can."
	"You enjoy it..."
	"Its more fun than anything else I've ever done or ever will do."
	"You're a sick fuck."
	He chuckled.
	"I'll agree with you there, college girl...I'm a very sick puppy."
	"Why?" she asked him.  He enjoyed her baffled and horrified expression.
	He came around the side of the bed, still stroking his big prick, to stand over
her and she could smell him now, a sharp male-animal scent.
	"Oh come on...a smart little slut like you should know the answer to that one. 
You've read about people like me. Bundy, Gacey, Dahmer... we
kill because we are dysfunctional, amoral, antisocial. We have no empathy, no
emotional connection.... but mostly because...because we DIG it....
	"There's nothing like killing a young woman, Kathie..."
	The sound of her name in the candle-lit room was like a vicious slap.
	"Oh yes, Kathie," he said, responding to her surprise. "I know you and your
little friends out there. I know you all well because I do my homework, sweet
cakes..."
	He reached down and took her by her hair, not harshly, but forcefully
enough to keep her face from turning away as he leaned over her.  She could
feel his hot breath on her cheek now. He looked down on her and could see, now
that her hair was swept back in his grip, the silvery gleam of the four little rings in
her delicate ear-lobe.
	"Sweet, sweet Kathie Marie Daniels, State College art student on a full
scholarship...Talented little fuck, aren't you? Much more talented than Larissa
Petersen or Donna Mayers...Just my humble opinion but I really think you're just
wasting your time with those two losers, honey bunch."
	"They're my friends!" Kathie protested surprised at the depth and hostility of
her reaction.
	"Oh, yess...passion!" he hissed smiling.
	"I love that in a girl...Passion is so hard to come by these days, sweetie pie.
	"But in any case we don't have to worry about you being pals with poor
little Larissa anymore...No sir. She's gone to a better place."
	"What about Donna?" she asked.
	"Well what a good friend you are, toots...what a noble, loving person,
worrying about your colleague that way..."
	"Did you kill Donna, you bastard?"
	He laughed.
	"Kiss me and I'll tell you," he taunted. "How about it, college girl...how
about a little smooch for ole' Dan."
	"I'd rather die..." she spat fiercely.
	"Really?  So much passion could get a little girl in trouble, dear...lots of
trouble..."
	He took both of her big heavy tits in his hands then and began to squeeze
them harder and harder as he pinched the nipples.
	His hands were hard, calloused, like steel claws, like twin metal vises.
	Kathie closed her eyes tightly and screamed shrilly, her face tossing from side
to side.  It seemed like he was going to crush her big juicy boobs.  He pulled on
them, slapped them, punched them making her bounce on the bed.
	Then suddenly he stopped and just stood there looking down on her and
stroking himself.
	"The answer is no, cunt...I haven't killed your friend...not yet...And the
reason I haven't killed her..."
	Again he leaned close.
	"Wanna know the reason?"
	She did not reply.
	He slapped her face then, his hand flying down with vicious unexpected force,
the blow turning her head into the pillow.
	"Answer me, pig," he snarled.
	"...y-yess..." she replied in a daze. "Y-yes I - I want to  -"
	Again his hand smacked across her face turning her head in the opposite
direction.
	"Yes, SIR -" he shouted at her. "Say it, cunt: Yes, SIR. Tell this useless
whore the reason!"
	"...y-yes s-sir...tell...tell this - uh - useless whore - the reason..."
	"The fucking REASON is that you are going to be given a chance to save
your worthless friend's life as well as your own."
	Kathie looked up at her tormentor with disbelief.
	"Yeah, you heard right, college girl. If you can get me off I'll let both you
and your friend outside live."
	Kathie shook her head, her eyes again filling with tears.
	"No..." she said softly. "No...You're lying. You're just going to kill us both
no matter what I do."
	"That may be true...but you know what? How will you know unless you try,
honey-bunch?...I might just be leveling with you here."
	Kathie tried to think but she was so confused. She bit her lip and began to
sob softly.
	"Awww..." toyed her tormentor cynically. "Poor little Kathie has to make
a BIG decision, boys and girls. And poor poor little Kathie can't even fuckin'
THINK straight..."
	Again he took her by her hair.
	"Listen you stupid little twat. If I wanted to kill you I would already have
done it.  Don't you know I want to enjoy you fully.... I want you to give yourself to
me.  That's what I really want.  That's what really turns me on."	
	"...but...but we already saw you...your truck...we can identify you to
police....you wouldn't let us go."
	"That truck is stolen, sweetie pie" he lied. "And I don't have a police record. 
They don't have me on file."
	He watched Kathie consider the options, watched the young girl face the
terrible dilemma and think of all the angles. And after a few brief moments, he
watched her come to the only conclusion he'd known all along she could come to.
	"Now," he said softly. "May I kiss you, Kathie."
	She looked up into his eyes.  He was stroking himself again, a little faster
now.
	"Y-yes...yes, sir..."
	It was a soft, long and tender kiss, for Dan the Knife Man secretly loved his
victims.  He loved them, respected them and admired them.  In fact he felt deep
reverence toward all women.  When he slaughtered them he thought of it
in the same way ancient men had thought when they hunted. They did not hate
the wilderbeast, or the mastodon, or the wild boar.  They revered it and kept
likenesses of it in their caves and on their amulets and body gear and weapons.
For Dan, women were like wild feral beasts that had to be slaughtered. Only with
their screaming pain and warm blood could they truly feed their conquerors.
A man could only be fulfilled if he brought the woman to heel, made her his and
finally destroyed her. For only by killing her could he be free of her spell, of her
guiles, of her control.
	So he kissed young Kathie Daniels passionately and needfully and she sensed
that in him, sensed the masculine power in him and responded as a woman always
will when free of all the expectations society has placed in her mind,
all the ideological, religious and moral restraints that humans have deemed necessary
to cage the primal Beast that lives in the human soul.  She submitted
and submitted beautifully, letting him kiss her, letting his strong hands explore
her young trembling body, telling herself that the chaotic feelings surging in
her were not really happening, that she was doing this only to save Donna and
herself.  And when he got on to the bed and knelt between her smooth outstretched
legs and placed his cock to her red slit he found her wet and fully lubricated, her
pussy-lips swollen, and he smiled, took her by her shoulders and slid deep into her.
	 "Ohhh Goddd!" she groaned as he lay on top of her giving her his full
weight as he fucked her.
	The image of Larissa suffering and bleeding came unbidden and she
began to cry even as hot pleasure filled her womb. He was big, so achingly big.
	He licked up her tears growling softly, tasting her tender young skin.
	Larissa was on Dan's mind too, the memory fueling his sadistic passion.
	"Yeahhh....that's it...that's nice, baby," he grunted as Kathie's pussy
squeezed his shaft and her thighs pressed into his asscheeks.
	"Uh!Uh!Uh!" she grunted, her hips heaving against his pounding thrusts.
	"Fuck me you little bitch!" he whispered in her ear and she growled fiercely,
eyebrows furrowed, and she counter-thrusted against him energetically.
	Because of his proposal, the suggested exchange of his sexual pleasure for her
and her friend's life, the man who called himself Dan had brilliantly, knowingly and
succesfully released his young victim from every social hang-up a woman is
controlled by and she now let herself go with shameless abandon. He hadn't missed
the little tattoo around her ankle and the rings in her ear.  He knew there were
masochistic feelings in Kathie he could tap into, he'd known since he'd watched her
walk past him on the street weeks earlier...and he was doing exactly that right now.
	"Come on!" he urged. "Get me off, bitch...you can do it...make me cum..
yeahhh...that's it....come on...come ON!....go for it..."
	She growled and shrieked and all her limbs pulled against the limits the
ropes allowed ankles and wrists chafing with the effort.
	"Pleeeease!" she screamed at him. "Pleeeease, sir..." the word had come
unrequested and Dan sneered with the pleasure of victory. "Cum inside
me...pleeease...empty yourself in me...."
	"Hurt me, if that's what you want...pleeease...sir....pleeease...do it!"
	Again and again she would tell herself later that what was happening there
happened because she wanted so badly to save Donna and herself from the
murderous wrath of this predator.  But deep down she could not completely
convince herself; she knew there was more to it than that...much more.
	"Yeahhh!" Dan grunted as he thrust viciously into his victim with determined
gusto, with power-thrusts calculated to inflict pain, his big cock pistoning in and out
of her tight little cunthole as he rose up to smack her tits and punch her ribs. He
would eventually fuck her in a much more cruel way, on the dirty bed in the
abandoned farmhouse, when he had her exactly how he wanted her, broken and
isolated...the way he'd planned for weeks.  But for now he contented himself with
the pleasure of this less extreme rape.
	"You want pain, you little fuck...?"
	He slapped her big beautiful paps and they wobbled like jelly.
	"You want pain? Huh? You little scumbag?"
	He punched her and made her grunt and shut her eyes tightly and gasp for
air.
	"I'm gonna give you pain you piece of shit!"
	Now he punched her belly hard and leaned down to bite her nipples.
	She began to scream and he fucked her harder.
	"Yeahh! Scream, shitbag! Scream!"
	He tasted her blood as he bit tit-meat sinking his teeth deep.
	Then he reached for a fat blue candle on the night-table beside the bed.
	As he fucked her he held the burning candle over her her chest to spill the
hot wax on her bite-marked titties. He drew circles of bue wax droplets around her
boobs as she shrieked. Her hands, trapped above her reached, fingers spread apart,
arms snapping tautly against the binding ropes at the wrists.
	Pushing his cock deep into her he touched the candle-flame to each of her
nipples holding it there to make her scream wildly and shrilly.
	"Take it in your mouth, cunt," he ordered, positing the base of the candle in
her lips, forcing her pretty mouth wide as he then pounded into her belly and sides
and slapped her juicy boobs watching the hot blue wax spill on to her lips and
cheeks and roll down her chin. 
	Then he pulled out of her, took the candle from her mouth and climbed up to
sit on her bitten tits and grab her head and push his cock into her blue-spattered
face.
	"I'm gonna cum, slut! DRINK it! Swallow it! Come on! Take me in your
mouth, CUNT! Come on you piece of SHIT! COME ON! Show me how much you
want you and your fuckin' friend out there to live! SHOW ME!"
	Desperately, making small whimpering helpless cries, Kathie opened her
painted lips wide to take the swollen cock-head of the killer. He leaned forward to
fill her all the way down to her throat so that she could not breathe and he held her
head hard almost tearing out her hair as he ejaculated in her with deep grunts of
pleasure and a wicked sneer that spread across his face as hot jism spilled from her
lips and jetted from her nostrils.  After a few moments he got up off her, letting her
breathe, standing over her as he had stood over Larissa...
(she tried to erase that thought again), a last thick trail of sperm spilling from 
his prick and into her hair, on the side of her pretty nose and mottled cheeks and
bite-covered, wax-painted tits.  The hot salty taste of him was too much and she
gasped for air, face flushed, trickles of spit and cum running down her neck...
	"From your dead friend's pussy right into your useless throat, cunt..." he
told her, looking down at her, straddling her.
	She began to cry, racked with sobs as he stepped off the bed.
	"Y-you...you're still going to - to k-kill us...aren't you?" she asked him
between sobbing gasps, trying to control herself, as he stood beside the bed.
	Already his cock was hard and erect again.
	"You got that right again, college girl...Guess you just didn't get me off good
enough."
	Then he turned his back on the sobbing youth and left the bedroom.
	


6.

	The nude green-eyed girl on the porch was in a daze.
	Her pretty short-brown haired head hung forward and a stream of drool ran
from her ball-gagged mouth and on to her chest between her small bare tits.
	She was trembling, cold and terrified, her arms stretched upward and roped
to the porch-beam already numb, like her arched ankle-bound feet.
	Inside the house she'd heard her friend's screams, although earlier she could
have sworn Kathie was begging the man to fuck her and hurt her...Was that
possible? Then the screams were frenzied, extremely high-pitched vocalizations
of unmistakable anguish.  Donna could hear a pounding movement, the creaking of
mattress springs, the pleasure-grunts of the killer and it was obvious that Kathie was
being savagely raped inside the dark Petersen house. 
	Occasionally Donna raised her head and then she could not help but see
the bloody cadaver of Larissa lying in the muddy driveway, lovely dead face still
staring upward with frozen horror into the stormy night.  Then she would look
down again and her mind would totter on the edge of sanity.  She would look at her
toes, toe-nails painted blue (Deep Metal Blue, the little vial said.) Blue on white, the
white enamel surface of the wooden porch. Her ankles tied very tightly together,
her calves occasionally cramping painfully.  The image somehow made it all go
away.  She hallucinated that she was standing tip-toe on a cloud far above the earth,
like an angel...or a ballerina.
	Inside the house the thumping and the screams had ceased.
	Donna rode high on a cloud and way down below she could see herself as a
young girl.  It was Christmas and there were presents around the tree.  Presents
wrapped in very shiny, very red paper with blue ribbons. She was reaching down to
open one of the pretty boxes. A door slid open and cold air and snow
flew into the room.  She ripped the paper from the box, a black wooden box,
with a lacquer finish. She opened the box, an elegant jewelry box and inside
it a ballerina in a white ballet dress began to dance. Music tinkled softly. Then the
ballerina began to bleed as she twirled, tiny blood drops that speckled Donna's small
child hands and the snow on the ground around her small bare feet. The little
ballerina looked up at  Donna with a howling wide-eyed tormented face. Then
Donna's daddy was standing in front of her and tilting her face up by her chin to
look down into her eyes. She knew what he would say next: Wake up, Princess.
Wake up, pumpkin-pie.'
	But her father's face melted away as she looked up and instead it was the
killer and he said.
	"Its time to play, cunt."
	And he drove his fist full-strenght into her belly.
	The gut-punch brought Donna back immediately to the terrible reality of the
present as it winded her and she thought she would never breathe again.  She
gasped for air and bit into the black ball in her mouth, eyes wide (like the
ballerina's).
	"Bitch," the killer grunted and hit gut-punched her again as hard as he could.
He looked at her suffering face enjoying the pain he saw there. It was so
marvelously unjust for a huge powerful man such as he to punch a helplessly bound
young girl. Terribly unjust and yet so rewarding. Because the female of the species
had humiliated him, abused him, emasculated him.  Until he'd learned how to strike
back, how to take over and show women they were inferior to his strength and his
intelligence.
	"You must never NEVER strike a girl!" he had been told as a little boy.
	But that was all he dreamed about. Striking them. Punching them. Kicking
them. And eventually torturing them and cutting them and mutilating their
soft pretty bodies.
	Women were animals that had to be hunted down and destroyed.
	Not that he didn't love them...not at all.
	He loved them DEEPLY, loved their flesh and their organs, loved them
when they cried and bled for him.
	When he'd finished inside with Kathie, wiping his cock off on her hair and
stepping off the bed he was already hard again thinking about Donna bound outside,
nude, wet, filled with horror and fear as she waited.  He imagined she'd heard
Kathie's pleas and screams and knew that the young college girl would
be ready for him, just the way he needed her to be, and he was not wrong.
	The little bitch was ready and waiting.
	He went to the end of the porch where the open duffel bag lay.
	He moved slowly and purposefully, like some big jungle animal, she thought,
and just watching him filled her with a deep primal horror. 
	She watched him bend down, reach into the bag and take a coil of black
braided leather and what looked like a strap with buckles and O rings on it.
	As he came toward her she whinnied and shook her head. 
	The coil of leather unfurled and slid along the porch floorboards beside him. 
It was a single-tail whip. And the other object was a collar which he now wrapped
around her long slender neck tightening the leather straps and buckling the device
so tight that she could barely breathe. Her nostrils flared and she gasped for air her
lips trying to widen around the huge black ball in her mouth.
	Then he stepped back away from her, standing with his strong legs slightly
apart, shaking the kinks from the long whip, making it slither against the floor.
	"Your friend in there," he said motioning toward the open doorway of the
Petersen house with his head as he worked the whip. "...she's put me in an ugly
mood...a REAL ugly mood..."
	She was still trying to regain her breath from his savage gut-punch when the
whip flew up off the floor and swung with a sharp crack across her legs.
	"G-Ghhhhhwwwhh!" she screeched into the gag.
	The sharp hot sear of the whip left a long red welt across the middle of her
juicy thighs.
	Dan smiled. 
	"...and nothing cures my ugly moods like a good - fuckin' - whipping -"
	He aimed and struck a second cut just below the first, right above the dimples
of her knees.
	She screeched again, stamped her bound feet and swung herself to the right.
	"Swing all you want, piggy," he jeered. "You ain't goin' nowhere."
	And he struck again, harder, lower, this time making the lash tear
across her plump calves.
	He began to whip her with slow rhythmic strokes, waiting before each cut,
taking his time, enjoying her pain.  There was nothing more beautiful than a lovely
young girl in bondage and pain.  Certainly no artwork Dan had ever seen, no novel
he'd ever read, no symphonic piece, no song or drawing, no museum masterpiece
or contemporary artistic endeavor of any kind could capture or match the incredible
beauty of a woman receiving a flailing lash.  It was sheer poetry in motion to watch
Donna twist around as his whip tore away at her strong young body. He swung
harder doubling the intensity and enthusiasm of her responses.
	As she circled completely around she offered him the smooth expanse of her
tanned back and the marvelous swell of her ass and the tenderly sculpted backs of
her thighs and kneehollows and calves and her heels and he jerked off with his free
hand as he swung the whip and licked his lips, his eyes narrow slits of vicious
pleasure.
	Taking full advantage of her position he placed stripe after red stripe on her
back and legs as she gasped for breath and jerked around, dizzy, the collar around
her neck almost strangling her...hot red stripes and darker blue stripes as he struck
harder making her feet kick up, she hanging by her arms, head arched backward in
a long shrill cry of pure animal anguish.
	He whipped now with a faster rhythm across the custard-soft globes of her
ass, back and forth, slice after slice. When her feet swung up off the floor again he
swung the lash across both footsoles wounding her.  Then he wrapped the whip
around her waist with a sharp slicing whappp yanking on it, turning her around as
he unwrapped the lash to strike at her young titties. He whipped the front of her
body mercilessly drawing tiny flecks of blood from her belly and
upper thighs, drawing hot searing slash-patterns on both hips.
	Then, he tossed the whip on the floor and walked right up to his quivering
sobbing victim.
	He steadied her with his left hand, gripping her right shoulder, her head tilting
backward, her teary eyes pleading with him as he punched her with all his strength,
this time driving his fist into her crotch, making her piss herself again as she
screamed into the ball gag, her head falling forward, chin pressing into the high
black collar.
	He noticed that she'd shaved her cute little muff in a bikini-cut and it made
him angry to think of her sashaying up and down the beach showing herself off,
being a fucking little tease and not putting out, getting all the boys and men horny
and then laughing at them.
	He punched her crotch again harder and she choke-gasped and pissed blood
as her bladder ruptured.
	"ugghhh...p-pleeeeze...nn-pleeehze!" she cried.
	"Please what, scumbag?" he snarled and punched her pubic triangle again.
"Please WHAT?!"
	She tried to say something but before she could he held her firmly and drove
five more blows into her whip-seared crotch and lower abdomen then without
warning he yanked her head back by the hair and sank his teeth into her cheek. The
taste of her warm young blood made him dizzy with pleasure. His cock was fully
erect now and it was all he could do to keep from taking his knife and killing the
little bitch right then.
	"I'm gonna cut you, piggy," he whispered in her ear.
	"Nohh!" she sobbed, her eyes pleading with him again. "Nohh! Nohh!
Pleeehze!"
	"Yeah....Gonna slice you all up!" he growled gripping her by her hair and
staring her down.
	He laughed meanly.
	"Yes! Yes, I will....unless..."
	And her pretty gagged face waited, her eyes lost in his. Blood trickled down
her tanned lash-striped thigh.
	He looked at the ugly dark red crescent his teeth had left on her smooth
cheek.
	"Unless you can get me off," he said softly. "Your friend Kathie in there...she
got me off and she's still breathing, piggy. Maybe you can do the same. Huh?
Whattaya say?"
	He yanked hard on her hair.
	"Give old Dan some pleasure in that pretty little mouth, darlin', and maybe
you'll live another hour..."
	Donna had no way of knowing if he was telling her the truth about Kathie.
Her senses were reeling from the whipping and the beating and the collar around
her neck was so terribly tight that she was seeing spots before her eyes. It was true
she had not heard Kathie cry out again. All she could see through the partly open
door where the keys still hung in the lock was an odd flickering light (candlelight?)
coming from the bedroom. Maybe Kathie lay in a pool of blood in there just like
Larissa out on the muddy driveway. Tears streamed from Donna's lovely green
eyes down her bite-marked cheek and into the black collar.
	For a moment the man who called himself Dan remembered Kelli Ann
Walford whose eyes would never look out upon the ocean again and her little
crucifix which he'd yanked off her dead butchered body.
	Slowly Donna nodded in consent to the killer's proposition as she began to
cry.
	Dan's hands slid up and down her flanks from her hips to her arm-pits as her
body heaved with sobs. His fingers paused casually along the hot ridged welts his
whip had left on her.
	"Mmmmm, yeah," he cooed pulling the naked beaten girl against him, his
big hard cock pressed against her belly.  He enjoyed the sensation of a weeping
female in his arms and he hugged her lovingly, her soft hair against his cheek, as she
cried.  "Yeahh. Cry for me. That's right. Its alright, sweetie. Dan's here. Yeah.
That's right. That's right. You just go ahead and cry your little heart out for old
Dan."
	Kelli Ann had cried too, cried sweetly and begged to live.	
	His big strong hands slid down Donna's curving back to cup her firm welted
asscheeks.
	She had a big full ass.  The kind of ass he could bury his knife in.
	"Mmmmm," he hummed in his throat as he reached up and un-buckled the
ball-gag strap.  He pulled the ball from her lips and let it fall to the floor then gently
he cupped his mouth over hers, licking her swollen lips, squeezing her firm butt as
he kissed her hard tasting her salty tears. The bloody emission from her beaten
pussy had already trickled down to the rope strands around her ankles and her
helplessly bound body was trapped in his embrace. She surrendered herself to him,
sliding down to her knees as he undid the knots that held her wrists above her head. 
He stood over her and took a hold of her hoop ear-rings. 
	"Open your mouth wide, " he growled.
	The pretty brunnette obeyed kneeling there, her ankles still rope-bound, the
tight black collar around her neck, her teary emerald eyes looking up at the killer,
her mouth open and drooling.
	"Wider," he ordered.
	"A-ahhh..." she intoned involuntarily as she complied, her tongue lolling like
pink candy between her red lips.
	For a few moments he just stood there watching her, enjoying her submission
then he took a final short step forward and pulled her in by her hoop-rings as he slid
his cock into the sweetly wet warmth.
	The thought ran swiftly through Donna's mind that she could sink her teeth
hard into him, tear off a piece of him, make him hurt like he'd made her and her
friends hurt but then she thought he would kill her immediately, and kill Kathie too,
if she was still alive.  But maybe he was going to kill them both anyway.
Was it worth surviving another hour, another moment, if the outcome was clear?
But was it clear? Her mind began to spin again like the little ballerina in the
black lacquered box. He hadn't even bothered to tie her hands again...maybe she
could get the knife or maybe he would finish with her and go back inside and she
could get the gun.
	He yanked on the hoop-rings and slammed his cock down her throat.
	"I know what you're thinking, pig," he said staring down into her face. "Do
it and you will wish you'd never been born. I can make a woman live in terrible
pain for weeks. You and your friend inside will be on the edge of death but you
won't die. I won't let either of you die. She will pay for your mistake right there
beside you."
	His words now gave her hope that Kathie was still alive and as he rocked his
hips back and forth sliding his cock in and out of her pretty mouth she just looked
up at him, not even daring to blink. 
	"I will cut your life away piece by tiny piece...uhhh...So just kneel there and
take it like a good little cunt and who knows? You may just get through this
sweetie...mmm...and save your little pal in the bargain...that's right...suck me,
pig...yeahhh...Jerk me off with your hands...I like to feel a girl's hands on my
cock...ahh...that's right...you're a good little pig...mmmm...squeeze your Master's
cock...mm-hmm...lick my balls. LICK!...yeahh. Now swallow it, get it down in your
fucking throat...aahh-uhhh. You filthy little cocksucker...yeah...and put your hands
behind you. BEHIND you! That's right...goddamn cunt...Just who the FUCK do
you think you are? You're nothing but dogshit to me bitch...Yeah...SUCK me,
dogshit!"
	His left hand moved up to the top of her head to seize her by the hair while
his right hand continued to tug on the hoop ring in her bleeding left ear-lobe.
As he pulled on her he stepped back so that she was forced to lean forward, hands
obediently clutched behind her, ankles still bound together.
	Her eye-brows furrowed upward and her eyes shut tightly as she
struggled to breathe with the huge man-meat in her throat and the tight collar
around her neck.  Her cheeks soon flared red and she gasped and choked as the
hand on her head moved down to the back of her skull and Dan thrust his hips
forward hilting his manmeat in the young college-girl's captive throat.
	"Suck me you little piglet, make me harder, make me ROCK hard,
you goddamn sleaze-pup...This is what you were made for...yeahh...that's right.
You were meant for nothing else but to please a man like this you piece-of-
shit cunt. See, men got it wrong when they treat pretty girls like you all sweet
and nice.  THIS is how you really NEED to be treated.  You NEED to
be put in your fucking place...Just like your friend Larissa. RIGHT in your
fucking place, whore! Cunt! Dogshit!"
	A violent pull on her hoop earing finally tore it from her bleeding
lobe and she gave out a small choked off cry as he tossed the ornament aside.
It tinkled across the porch and off into the grass.  He began to yank on the 
other ring and she looked up at him.  From her vantage point he seemed a 
giant, a towering demented monster. She closed her eyes and saw the little ballerina
in the black box spinning and bleeding.
	Suddenly, Dan stepped back and slapped his victim hard across the face.
His open palm swept down and smacked her face to one side then the other
hand rose and smacked her the other way. As she cried out he yanked on the hoop
ring and smeared his prick all over her face. 
	"I want your eyes OPEN at all times, pig!" he shouted. "Now SUCK!"
	With a desperate little-girl cry she swallowed him down, looking up at him,
her fingers twined together behind her.
	"Goddamn PIG!" he spat and yanked with all his might on her ear-ring.
	Her ear stretched to the limit then ripped and she yelped.
	He stepped back again and without warning punched her right in the face.
	The vicious blow whirled her sideways toward the porch steps and she flew
off her knees and rolled off the house and into the wet dirt.
	Her head was still spinning when he yanked her up by the hair and slammed
his fist into her face again breaking her nose with a loud pop. Blood gushed from
her nostrils and lips as he delivered a series of crunching punches into her rib-cage
and belly. Then grabbing her head in both hands he pulled her
bloody face back to his now huge organ.
	She opened her mouth as wide as she could to receive him feeling like her
jaw bone was about to be dislocated as he slammed into her.  There was no thought
of resistance now.  She was like a broken puppet for him, like the little ballerina who
could not help but dance when the box lid was opened. She sat on her haunches
and took it.
	"That's right," he growled fucking her throat, her blood spilling on him,
trickling down his balls. "Mmmm-hmmmm...Very nice, Donna...
You're such a good little pig...keep going...that's real nice....real nice..."
	It seemed to go on forever, he clutching her collared head in both hands as
the rain steamed on the hood of the idling Cherokee, the headlights bathing the
naked couple in an eerie yellowish light, the conquering male and his vanquished
victim, illuminating too Larissa's silvery cadaver a few feet away in the edges of
shadow, one pretty blood and mud-smeared bare foot pointing at the night-sky, the
other awkwardly angled inward.  Donna sucked the killer's cock and made helpless
little whiny noises not knowing when he would stop fucking her throat and begin
battering her again.  She dared not close her eyes which she kept on his evil leering
face accepting his cruel staring, accepting and obeying, the way women have always
done from the dawn of memory, the way Dan concluded women would always do,
because it was their nature to surrender and accept.  Occasionally a raindrop would
make her eyes blink but only briefly.	
	Then he was stepping away.
	She slid to the ground weakly, sobbing, and just lay in the mud, the taste of
blood and cock choking her, blood still trickling from her pussy, her body on fire
from the multiple cuts of the lash.
	She heard a metallic sound, the cocking mechanism of the shotgun, and when
she looked up he was standing over her with the Winchester pointed at her beaten
cunt.
	"I gotta admit, girl," he was saying softly. "You gave it your best try...
But Kathie's still the best cocksucker. Hands down."
	Donna shook her head.  This was it. He was going to kill her.
	He smiled wickedly as he stood over her.
	"That's right, girl...You know what's coming don't you?"
	"P-pleeease...." she moaned weakly and began to shiver.
	"Bitch, is that the only fuckin' word you know? Pretty fuckin' lame for a
college girl like you..."
	"DON'T KILL ME!!" she shrieked both hands flailing the air out in front of
her.
	"OHH GOD GOD PLEASE PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"
	He continued to stand there poised menacingly, the smile gone from his face. 
	His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke. So low she had to struggle
hard to hear him above the patter of the rain.
	"You wanna live a little longer, pig?" 
	She nodded wildly, desperately.
	"...don't kill me don't kill me don't...please..."
	"You'll do anything to live, won't you, piggy?"
	"...ahh Godd y-yesss ahhgg any-anything...anything you want...only don't
don't don't don't don't-"
	"Shut the FUCK up, bitch! - Here's what I want."
	He was still holding the Winchester right over her cunt and she was frozen
there, her hands still up in the air in front of her.
	"I want you to make love to your dead friend."
	Donna's mind raced and spun on the words.  They did not make sense.
	Her hands fell to her sides.
	"...L-L-Laris-Larissa?" she muttered.
	"Your dead pig friend, yes...I want you to get on top of her and kiss her. I
want to see you  eat her dead pussy and stick your face in her guts...Can you handle
that, dogshit? Huh? Think you can handle that....cuz THAT'S what I
want...Otherwise..."
	He pressed the barrel of the big gun into her neatly trimmed, whip-kissed and
dark-bruised muff.
	"...NO!" she cried out her eyes wide, slightly crazed. "I'll do it...I'll do
whatever you want....whatever you want...w-whatever you...want..."
	"Lie on your back on the ground and spread your legs wide, whore," he
ordered.
	She obeyed without hesitation.
	"Pull your legs up, bend them back, just like when you're waiting to get
fucked...DO IT!"
	She did as he asked and lay there at his feet in the traditional female
missionary position as he raised his cock and pissed right on her pussy.  As he
emptied his bladder he moved up, straddling her between his legs, tracing
a line with his piss-stream up her belly, up between her whipped boobs and collared
neck to her face.  He pissed on her bleeding broken nose and cheeks.
	"Open your mouth and drink it, dogshit," he ordered softly.
	Again no hesitation.
	Her eyes looked up at him like a lost puppy's as his urine gurgled in her
wide-open lips.
	He took the dog-chain from the duffel bag and hooked it to her collar then he
pulled her up into a crawling position and led her to Larissa's dead body.


7.

	Something inside Donna snapped then. She was no longer in the world she
had always known. 
	That world was gone forever.
	Just as the Killer had promised.  
	In this world she was the ballerina, pulled from her black jewel box by a tiny
strand around her neck and dropped in the mud to crawl.
	Her life depended upon how well she performed for the cruel ringmaster.
But she wasn't clear on what exactly it was she was supposed to do.  She had
forgotten her steps and there was no music and the strand around her neck was so
tight she could not even think straight. Her nose hurt and she tasted blood and piss.
	Larissa was lying in the mud, tied by her wrists and she was all bloody.
	Larissa was staring at the sky.
	Make love to me,' Larissa was saying to her and smiling.
	Eat me,' she was whispering without moving her deathly still lips.
	"Touch her," the ringmaster said.
	"Touch her legs...feel the wounds in her..."
	In slow motion Donna crawled up close to her dead friend.
	"Go ahead," the voice said. "Touch her...touch the wounds...taste her..."
	And she had to obey.
	She had to. There was nothing else.
	Her hand reached slowly, fingers open and slightly curved, blue fingernails
(like her Deep Metal Blue toenails on the edge of the cloud) catching the yellowish
light (the sound of an idling vehicle nearby).
	She touched the dead girl's foot and it was cold and clammy and for an
instant she started to pull her hand back.
	"Go ahead," the voice said. "Touch her...she likes it...she wants you to touch
her...don't you see? She NEEDS you to touch her."
	Larissa had pretty feet, unharmed by the blasts of the shotgun.  Pretty little
feet that would never again walk on the hot Florida beach sand or run bare
on the grass or kick up water as she sat laughing on the edge of the pool.
	Both of Donna's hands now held Larissa's cold furrowed limbs and began to
move up the ankles.
	Larissa had nice legs. Legs the boys were always looking at. They were
shapely and tanned and long.  Pretty legs that Donna now wanted to kiss. And she
bent down to lick the cold, wet, mud-smeared ankles and press her lips to the arch
of the dead girl's feet.
	Ohh yess...' she could hear Larissa say. That feels so good,
Donna...more...more...'
	Dan the Knife Man watched Donna's lips move up the calf of Larissa's
broken leg and his cock felt steel-hard. He had completely broken the little bitch and
he was about to see something unforgettable. 
	Donna's mouth came to the edges of the shotgun blast, hesitated only briefly
and continued up into the charred and bloody gash in the blown away knee.
	She licked at the bloody wound, moaned and pushed her broken face against
it.
	"Good girl..." Dan whispered softly. "You're such a good girl." 
	Of course I'm a good girl,' Donna thought silently. I'm daddy's good-time
girl.'
	I'm the best good-time ballerina girl ever.'
	Her pussy began to tingle and she felt all hot inside.
	As she crawled up Larissa's dead body to Dan's gently tugging leash her legs
opened and she began to thrust the fingers of her right hand into her needy pussy. 
	Dan watched the psychotic sexual scene with dizzying pleasure.
	He had completely broken this female, robbed her of her sanity and regressed
her to her primal animal self. She bore the marks of his whip all over her and that
made him feel complete ownership over her and over everything she was doing. He
had beaten her and tortured her and pissed on her cunt and in her mouth.  Now she
was just a plaything for him, with absolutely no will of her own.
	He thought about going in the house and dragging Kathie out here to watch
the physical and psychological devastation he'd wreaked on Donna but then he
thought he might break the mood of the moment.  Seeing Kathie might snap Donna
back to reality.  It was better to let this play out for as long
as it would last. In any case, Kathie would be the only one going to the farmhouse
with him afterwards. She would be alive and suffering long after these two cunts
were in the ground and there would be ample time to have lots of fun with her.
	Gently at first then with more urgency, moaning, Donna began to lick at her
dead friend's vagina. She licked up and down the slit and the soft wrinkled lips,
pressing her broken nose into Larissa's cold pussy, thrusting her tongue into the
dead girl's lovehole and shit-smeared anus, grunting deliriously.  
	Dan watched jerking off, enjoying the once-in-a-lifetime show, pulling gently
on the leash-chain again to bring Donna further up Larissa's body to the gash that
led down the front of the dead blonde's body.
	"Get your face inside her, pig," he ordered softly. "...yeahh...that's
it...nice...all the way inside her...taste her guts...yeahh."
	Donna obeyed robotically now pushing her face into the huge gash Dan had
ripped in the front of Larissa's body.  Her cheeks and eyes pressed into the still-
warm torn viscera as she licked and nibbled at the rubbery fleshiness inside her dead
friend.  The horrid stench and taste of the dead woman's insides into which the
killer had emptied his bladder earlier were in Donna's broken mind perceived as
richly scented flowers. Larissa's corpse was full of orchids and lilies, oddly shaped
tulips and hibiscus, that smeared her cheeks with oozing sweetness. The ballerina
smiled and hot needy pleasure urged her to rub herself, fingers strumming her
swollen clit as she pushed her head into the gutted cadaver.
	"...goddamn..." Dan uttered softly. He was in awe of the depth of depravity
he had brought about in the young girl.  His prick was ready to burst with orgasmic
pleasure and he had to stop stroking himself to keep from cumming.
	He dropped the leash chain and moved around to crouch behind Donna in
the mud as the crazed brunnette spread her legs open and knelt over her dead
friend, her head almost completely immersed in Larissa's corpse.
	Donna knelt on Larissa's hips, riding the dead girl, seeming almost to feast on
her,  and Dan took the brunette's ass in his hands spread her full plump cheeks wide
apart to push his cock up into her cooze. 
	As he slid up into Donna from behind with a grunt seizing her hips to pull her
back against him, her face came up out of Larissa, a piece of intestine dangling from
her chin, her cheeks, forehead and hair covered with blood, a look of deep rapture
on her face.
	"Aghh daddieee!" the crazed bitch wailed and sank her face back into the
messy cadaver under her.
	"That's right," Dan grunted. "Uhh. Yeah, darlin'. Daddy's right here...right
here, you fuckin' pig..."
	He slammed in and out of her for a while listening to her groan and
make slurping sounds inside Larissa's belly.
	Then, he pulled out of her and rose.  He strode slowly around the grisly
tableaux, Donna completely oblivious of him as she dipped her face into her dead
friend's battered corpse.  Larissa's still stared frozenly upward as Donna's head
bobbed in and out of her chest between her mutilated nipple-less breasts.  Dan's
balls were swollen and his cock engorged and beautifully erect as he looked down
on his handywork pacing slowly around the two females, the living and the dead
in their desperate embrace, Larissa's arms still wired to the stakes in the ground in a
final act of giving to Donna who seemed to feed like a jackal on slaughtered prey. 
	He went to the porch and took what was left of the barbed wire.
	Donna's face came up from the blood-mess as Dan pulled one arm to the
stake and wound a piece of wire around her wrist securing it above Larissa's pale
hand. 
	She looked at him stupidly, blood dribbling from her lips and chin as he took
the other arm and bound it to the opposite stake.
	Now he stood and drew his knife.
	She followed him with her eyes, craning her head to her right as he walked
around behind her.
	Suddenly she felt his hand take her head firmly and slam her face back down
into Larissa's guts as his massive prick stabbed into her tiny asshole.
	"Eat, pig!" he snarled and his knife stabbed down into Donna's beautiful
asscheek.
	She screamed with pain and her sphincter tightened deliciously around his
prick.  He held Donna's head inside the dead girl suffocating her while he repeatedly
stabbed her butt-globes and fucked her up the ass.  He traced long sharp gashes in
her back, from her shoulders to her waist.  He stabbed her upper thighs and she
bucked and fought against the barbed wire tearing her wrists.  
	"Oh yeahh," he moaned pulling his cock from her asshole to rub it in the
streams of fresh blood that poured from the stab wounds in her meaty asscheeks.
	Then he slammed into her again, stabbed the knife into the middle of her 
right thigh, leaving it stuck in her while he seized her hips to fuck her with all his
strength.
	Donna's head arched back as she yowled in agony.  The pain had pulled
her from the abyss of insanity and the stench of the dead girl under her
made her gag then puke.  The knife stabbing into her and gashing her had wiped
the hallucinations from her mind and sent her back into the horror of the moment. 
Only vague traces of what she had been doing just moments before
remained in her consciousness, like the traces of a depraved nightmare.  She felt the
violating presence of Dan's monstrous appendage in her rectum and she
screamed for all she was worth as he pushed it to the limits, splitting her 
wide, making her little asshole bleed, pulling the knife from her thigh to stab her
again, short quick stabs into the tender meat of her rump.  He pushed himself in to
the hilt and held his cock in her while he stabbed her legs and calves.
Then he was pulling out again and coming around to crouch in front of her, his hot
balls hanging down on Larissa's dead face, covering her pretty dead eyes as he
pulled Donna's shattered blood-spattered face to his shit smeared shaft, his knife at
her neck.
	"Suck," he snarled. "Pleasure me."
	Slack-jawed, her eyes docile and beaten, Donna obeyed, straining against the
barbed wire which held her wrists to lift herself higher on top of her dead friend and
cup his long hard prick in her loving lips.
	Obedience was the only way left for her now, the only hope for life of any
kind.
	As Donna sucked his cock sending warm tingling sadistic pleasure all through
him Dan looked up and saw the car-port of the Petersen house and for the first time
he noticed the hooks high up on the concrete wall from where the garden tools
hung.
	He let Donna work him for just a bit longer then he got to his feet.
	It was time to take the little bitch down. 
	It was time to rock and roll.

8.

	Kathie was shoved out of the Petersen house in shackles.
	He'd put the cuffs on her ankles then chained them together before untying
her from the bed. Then he'd put a slave collar on her and chained her cuffed wrists
to her neck. Finally he'd jammed the huge black ball back in her mouth, walked her
to the door and pushed her out on to the porch.
	She was dizzy and off-balance, nearly falling, as he walked her down the steps
toward the Cherokee. The headlights of the vehicle dazzled and blinded her.
	Since he'd come back into the house he'd been silent, his eyes hard, his face
like stone.
	He'd removed the candle from her mouth and while he'd hooked her wrists
to the o-rings on the collar, her elbows lifted high and jutting out in front of her his
eyes had trailed up and down her blue-wax spattered body. He noticed that his bite-
marks were already fading on her big tits. He smiled. The next time he would mark
those orbs it would be indelibly.
	He was naked and filthy, covered with mud and blood, smelling of entrails
and rut and as their eyes met he stared her down.
	Now as he took her to the Cherokee she looked around, trying to avoid
walking on the sharp stones in the muddy ground which hurt her feet. Donna was
nowhere to be seen but Larissa still lay where she'd been killed earlier.
	"Get in," the killer ordered opening the door of the truck.
	Kathie struggled into the vehicle awkwardly and once she was inside he got
into the back and roped her head tightly to the seat neck-brace from behind her
almost choking her, looping the rope right over the leather collar and the base of
her neck.
	"I want you to keep your eyes straight ahead, piggy," he whispered as he
tightened the rope to its limit. "There's something I want you to watch and I don't
want you turning away."
	Then he stepped out of the vehicle slamming the back door shut and going
around to the driver's side.
	He put the truck in gear and it began to move slowly toward the Petersen
house.
	"Here we go, cunt."
	As he turned left around the corner of the house into the car-port Kathie saw
Donna.
	An involuntary choked off gasp rattled in her throat.
	Her friend had been hung to two hooks high on the wall some five feet apart
by her wrists with barbed wire, and her legs had been hoisted up by the ankles and
drawn back to the same hooks, also with barbed wire, so that she
hung framed in the wide V of her fleshy up-stretched thighs some five feet off the
ground.
	She hung in such a way that, as the Cherokee approached her, its front grill
was level with her abdomen.	
	As the vehicle drew closer Kathie could see the abuse Dan had wreaked on
her friend.  Donna's young body was crisscrossed with ugly slashes, welts and
bleeding knife-wounds.  Both her tits had been wrapped in barbed wire and the
nipples had been cut open.  A strand of barbed wire had been tied around the top of
her head reminding Kathie of the images of the thorned crown on Jesus. And most
savage of all, a nickle-plated metal stake, like the ones the killer had driven into the
ground to bind Larissa's wrists apart, stuck out of Donna's bleeding
cunt and another one was half-buried in her asshole.
	Now Kathie knew the reason for the terrible shrill screams she'd heard from
inside the house.  She could not have begun, however, to imagine the reality of her
poor friend's hideous torment nor could she have at that moment grasped the
depraved loss of self Dan had submitted Donna to. But soon she too would be in
Dan's hands. Soon she too would be the focus of his demonic lust. And her
suffering would far outweigh that of both her unfortunate friends.
	"Ever see a car fuck a woman, Kathie?" Dan asked, sadistic glee on his
face as he looked over at his victim, neck-bound to the seat beside him. "I know I
haven't but I'm sure lookin' forward to it."
	"Mmggg! Mmgg!" Donna protested as the Cherokee began to inch forward.
	Dan smiled and gently took his foot off the brake.
	The engine engaged and the vehicle rolled into the carport.	
	Donna's lovely eyes gleamed in the headlights, wide and terror-filled as she
realized what was coming. Her legs kicked energetically, muscles etched sharply
against the whipped flesh, ankles bleeding as the barbed wire held unyieldingly.
	The Cherokee rolled steadily forward and the hard metal grill pushed gently
but firmly into the soft pliant girl-meat hilting the metal stake deep into Donna's
uterus, pressing against bleeding thighs as Dan braked slowly watching his victim
squeal like the female pig he knew she was, her mouth wide around the ball-gag.
	Again the killer released the brake and stepped lightly on the gas.
	The Cherokee's engine growled and the truck moved forward into Donna's
body crushing it slowly almost lovingly against the concrete end wall of the carport.
	First, both her thigh bones gave in simultaneously with a loud crack and next
her hips snapped and dislocated, as her young tortured body was squeezed
mercilessly between the metal front grill of the truck and the wall.  Kathie watched
in frozen horror as blood spilled from Donna's mouth and broken nose in frothy
bursts, her eyes rolling back in her head.
	Dan was jerking off as he accelerated the truck into the woman.
	The engine surged responsively the back wheels sliding against the smooth
concrete of the carport then finding purchase.
	Donna's ribs gave with a series of dull wet pops and her screams were
raucous and animal-like, her eyes bulging strangely, cheeks flushed scarlet, as her
belly ruptured and spilled viscera down the car-port wall. The truck continued to
press her into the masonry crushing her chest, the hot metal hulk pressing into her
until her spine snapped and her head dropped forward on top of the hood. Finally
the truck had gone completely through the young woman and the bumper was in
direct contact with the wall.
	Dan threw the Cherokee into reverse and backed it up a few feet.
	Pieces of Donna spattered to the ground and dripped off the hood and
bumper of the vehicle but unbelievably the young college girl still lived, lifting her
head weakly to look right into Kathie's face one last time.
	It seemed to Kathie her friend was saying goodbye to her from the depth of
her inhuman suffering.  Donna knew the end had come and her beautiful deep-
green eyes as she looked at her friend were filled with a desolate hopelessness that
made Kathie give out a strangled sobbing moan.
	"Yeah...cunt!" Dan snarled. "Die!"  And he drove the Cherokee into the
mangled girl again.
	Kathie screamed into her gag as she was jolted back by the acceleration.
	The upper half of Donna's broken body and her head whiplashed down on
the hood of the Cherokee as the vehicle banged into the carport wall with a loud
thump.  A wash of blood poured from the victim's mouth and across the dirty
yellow hood of the truck right up into the windshield in front of Kathie. 
	A final shudder ran through Donna's body and she lay still.
	Dan backed up the truck and the dead broken girl hung on the carport wall
in the glare of the headlights.
	"What a fuckin' mess," the killer commented heartlessly.
	Kathie was crying, tears glimmering down her cheeks.
	"You just sit there and cry, piggy," Dan told the horrified weeping girl bound
beside him.
	"That's right...You just let it all out. Let all those feelings go."
	He opened the door and began to step out of the vehicle. Then he turned to
her again, his face full of sadistic glee.
	"And you rest up, sweetie,  cause when Dan's all done cleaning up he's
going to take you to his house and we're going to play.....for DAYS..."
	Kathie sobbed louder as he slammed the door behind him leaving her in the
truck. His words, dropped on her unexpectedly, had wrapped around her mind like
a steel mesh.  She was not only unable to move physically but now she was
unable to think at all.  He had let her know he had something very special in mind
for her and she could not even begin to grasp what that could be, what living
through this monster's nightmare for another minute, let alone for days, whole
uninterrupted days on end, would possibly involve.  She bit on the gag and breathed
in short desperate gasps.
	As if in a dream she watched him outside the truck as he went to Donna and
cut her wrists free of the barbed wire that bound the dead girl to the hooks on the
wall.  Then he lifted the limp, broken victim up and draped her broken body down
across the warm hood of the Cherokee, Donna's head bobbing off the fender. 
	Leering at his horrified captive in the truck through the windshield as he
climbed up on to the hood Dan the Knife Man crouched over Donna and hoisted
her smashed hips upward. With considerable effort he pulled out the shit-smeared
stake that was buried between the girl's asscheeks and tossed it aside so that it
clattered metalically against the driveway wall. Then, still staring at Kathie he put his
huge cock up to Donna's asshole. Bluntly, he penetrated the bleeding lifeless corpse.
He fucked the smashed-up girl, a look of blissful rapture on his face.
	Kathie watched this new desecration of her dead friend unable to look away.
She watched the killer's body move rhytmically, his thrusts making the idling
vehicle rock on squeaky springs, his legs coiled as he crouched over Donna's
carcass, his cock pistoning in and out of her bloody anus. Kathie could see the tip of
the other metal stake jutting out of Donna's pussy and dripping blood as Dan
slammed his cock deep. The tempo of his thrusts quickened and he groaned, a sneer
of animal pleasure twisting his mouth. Then, he pulled his bloody shit-smeared cock
out of the lifeless corpse and turned to Kathie, jerking himself off, facing the
windshield, leaning with one hand on the roof of the Cherokee, staring down at his
captive as he shot hot jets of semen on the glass in front of her face, growling and
grunting with pleasure, his eyes glazed with lust. 
	When he was finished he smiled sickly, rubbed the tip of his still engorged
cock on the glass lewdly in front of Kathie smearing it against the globs of semen,
then slid off the Cherokee. He pulled Donna's body off the front of the vehicle by
the legs.  The dead girl's body slid across the metal surface leaving a swath of blood
and innards in its wake and finally dropped off the edge with a thump, the pretty
head, eyes still open, thumping against the fender and then the concrete floor of the
carport.
	It did not end there.
	He got back in the truck. The smell of him made her gag and almost vomit.
She tried not to look in his direction as he backed the vehicle up.
	He stopped the Cherokee and put it in neutral reached over and pinched her
nipple in his hard bloodsmeared calloused fingers.
	"Won't be long, now, sweet thing...Your time's coming..."
	He left the truck again slamming the door shut behind him.
	She could do nothing but watch. Closing her eyes had ceased to be an option.
	From inside of the Cherokee and as the sun began to rise she watched
him drag Donna's body out next to Larissa and watched him get the big
woodsman's ax from the duffel bag.
	Outside the covering roof of the carport the rain had begun to intensify again
and it spattered the windshield washing away the oozing wads of Dan's sperm, the
blood and gore on the hood, blurring the world for Kathie.
	And what a hideous world it was and she could not turn away as Dan the
Knife Man raised the ax high and began the terrible task of chopping
to pieces the two dead college girls he'd brutally raped and murdered.
	The blade fell and impacted with dull meaty thuds and blood spurted
in every direction as he severed the feet and hands, the legs and arms, then
attacked abdomen and thorax and finally cut the heads off the neck stems, Larissa
still staring upward, Donna's face in the mud as she was beheaded from behind.
	Then he stuffed the remains of his kills into large garbage bags, occasionally
stopping to jerk off and look back at the truck and sneer at his captive, his cock
once again fully erect.  	
	He got Larissa's keys from the door of the Petersen house and opened the
trunk of the Mercedes. He tossed the plastic bags and the pieces of his victims'
clothing and belongings that were scattered all around the property into the rear of
Larissa's vehicle. Kathie watched him enter and exit the house several times, tossing
more items, including the blue candles, into the trunk, and then she saw him take
the garden hose that hung from a faucet in the front yard and hose Donna's blood
from the carport wall and floor.  He also hosed down the porch as well as the area
where Larissa had been shot and disemboweled.  When he finished, shutting off the
water and returning the hose to the position he'd found it in she saw him go around
the back of the house and could not know that he was re-attaching the electrical and
phone wires.  Instead she saw the lights come on in the house and realized then that
he had been responsible for the black-out and not the storm.  She saw him go into
the house and shut the lights off then emerge closing the door behind him to stand
naked on the porch slowly stroking himself and looking in her direction. Now she
realized that this monster had meticulously planned everything that had happened
that night and the idea added to her paralyzing terror.
	Slowly, he walked back to the truck, opened the rear passenger door and
entered. 	
	She sensed him behind her, felt his presence although she could not look,
heard the slow wet stroking sound of his hand on his manmeat, heard his slow even
breath. 
	She felt him lean forward, felt his hands in her hair and on her cheeks.
	He made a low purring sound in his throat as his hands moved down to her
fat boobs to cup them gently; the weird cat-like noise sent chills through her.
	Then he undid the rope around her collared neck and she was able to breathe
more freely and she felt almost dizzy. He stepped out of the truck, opened her door
and drew her out leading her toward the Mercedes.  She hobbled across the wet
driveway, her leg and wrist chains rattling, the rain cold on her naked skin.
	He brought her to the opened trunk of the Larissa's car.
	Four large opaque, dark brown garbage bags lay inside, neatly tied off.
	"You're gonna ride with your friends, piggy," the killer said and grabbing
her by one arm in one hand and her wet disheveled hair in the other, he pushed her
into the open trunk.
	Kathie's knees hit the rear bumper and she stumbled and fell on to the bags
screaming into the black ball gag as the killer lifted her shackled legs into the vehicle
and slammed the lid down. She was instantly engulfed in darkness.
	The plastic surfaces under her yielded as she felt the hard chunks of human
meat shift under her.  The smell of blood and shit almost choked her and she
tasted bitter vomit in her throat fighting to keep it down.
	Outside she heard the engine of the Cherokee approach, heard some metallic
snaps and then after a few moments felt the Mercedes lurch forward.
Again the bags shifted wetly under her. Tatters of her friends' clothing clung to her
wet legs.
	The car was being towed.
	She began to gasp as the vehicle moved faster. The air in the trunk was 
stifling hot and full of the stench of death.
	Outside the rain began to pour down and she could hear the patter of the
drops on the trunk lid. The truck towing the convertible left the driveway
and turned on to the empty highway.
	The full dimension of her predicament hit her full force then. She tried to roll
over and felt herself sink down into the wet plastic of the bags.  She tried to call out
for help but felt herself weakening, trembling, helpless...alone in the darkness. The
images of the long terrible night filled her mind.  She remembered the flash of the
shotgun, her friend Larissa's gruesome disemboweled death, remembered the
savage rape on the Petersens' bed, the killer filling her hard and deep, making her
give herself to him and emptying his thick salty cum in her mouth...  She
remembered how he'd crouched before her on the hood of the Cherokee after
Donna's horrible murder and jerked off, his jissom jetting out on the windshield,
Donna laying dead, draped over the Cherokee like some hunted deer. 
	 She knew now that she had given herself to him for nothing, just as she'd
first thought.  Larissa was dead, Donna was dead and soon she would be dead
too....or would it be soon...would it be quick...?
	It didn't seem likely.
	What had he said?
	We're going to play, piggy...play...for DAYS...'
	She began to weep.
	She was still weeping fifteen miles later when the Cherokee towing the
blue Mercedes convertible swung off the highway on to the dirt road.
	


                     
Part Two
The Farmhouse


1.
	The tall oak tree stood like an open-armed sentinel at the end of the road,
framed in the reddish glow of dawn.  By the time the truck rolled up to it the
twittering of birds already filled the air. 
	Dan sat behind the wheel and watched the wind roll across the vast expanse
of swamp-grass moving the stalks in sweeping waves.  If he listened carefully he
could hear an occasional muffled sob from the trunk of the Mercedes behind the
truck.  The sound made him hard, made his balls swell and tingle.  The smell of the
kills was still fresh on him, a dank bloody stench, even through his clothes which
he'd put on so as not to attract any undue attention on the road.  Now he pulled off
his t-shirt and reached into the glove-compartment for the bug repellent which he
sprayed on his hands and smeared on his chest, arms and face.
	He stepped out of the air-conditioned truck and into the humid heat of the
swamp.  The metal slam of the Cherokee's door behind him was an
unexpected intrusion into the deep quiet of the surroundings.  Except for
the birds and the sound of Kathie crying inside the convertible there was a stillness
so deep and perfect that it was almost haunting.
	Dan loved the stillness of nature, the awesome quiet.  He felt at home in it, so
completely at home where things grew wild and unwatched, where there were
no explanations required, where life moved to primal and perfect rhythms
unclouded by childish human morality. He had found this particularly isolated spot
one day while just driving around and following dirt roads.  Of course, in the back
of his mind he'd known he wasn't just driving around...there was a purpose to his
little trips into the Florida wilderness.  Here was a place far from prying eyes,
sparsely populated and policed, perfect for his predatorial activities'. 
	As a lawyer Dan had spent countless hours in libraries studying old books,
writing briefs, worrying about grades as a student then job-status at the firm.
The quiet of nature was not the quiet of the library contrived and lifeless.
It was a silence pregnant with possibilities, rich with terror and pleasure, looming
and dangerous.  This was the silence where he belonged.  The man who called
himself Dan was no longer the man who had once called himself Tom Waverly. 
Tom Waverly had tried to survive in a world of people and ethics, laws and libraries. 
But he was not meant for that life. The violent books and magazines he'd secretly
perused between legal tomes, the writings of DeSade which he'd returned to again
and again, showed him that. Dan had showed him that.  He had shown him clearly
by taking over and killing a whore outside a bar years earlier,
by driving his knife, Dan's knife, deep into succulent bitch-flesh even as he
drove his cock deep into her cunt, fucking and killing the female to fulfill the
masculine desire which drove him.
	Four kills later, his fifth intended victim, Chrissy Saunders, the first and only
bitch he would ever allow to survive, escaped him. Tom Waverly's life came to an
end. The five long years in prison hardened the killer, sharpened him to a fine edge,
honed all his savage instincts.  He'd worked his body on weights and studied
Eastern philosophy books in the prison library.  He learned to meditate and seek his
deepest nature, the flowing deepest darkest rivers of his inner self.  He descended
often into the source of his demonic craving, fathomed its depths, understood his
karmic purpose.  He was a female-killer and he learned to accept and glory in his life
mission.  It was clear to him that nothing would ever be more pleasing to him than
to stifle a young woman's life and to watch her suffer, to drink from her pain like a
lion from lamb's blood.  Where other men saw beauty and seduction he saw kill-
meat, flesh that should be punished and made to hurt, pretty lips that were meant to
be wide and screaming, lovely eyes that were meant to cry and plead.  Women had
to be hunted and brought down. Their spirits broken. Their living energy
terminated... flesh, bone and muscle returned to the deep silent place in nature, the
place of ultimate belonging.
	He opened the trunk of the Mercedes and wordlessly reached down to pull
Kathie out by the chain leash attached to her slave-collar.
	Blinded by the sudden brightness in her eyes the gagged, dazed, weeping
college girl let herself be pulled upward and led out of the trunk and to the towering
oak tree at the edge of the field, her cramped legs and arms throbbing as she was
made to crawl, still in chains, on the wet muddy ground.  Instantly the gnats began
to buzz in her eyes and sting her everywhere. Larger insects were drawn to the
sweet source of flesh to suckle her sweat and bite her.
	Dan drew the leash all the way around the tree trunk, clipping the free end to
an o-ring in Kathie's tight leather collar so that she was bound by her neck, the
back of her head right up against the rough bark, the voluptuous young woman
on her haunches and helpless as he walked back to the Mercedes.
	She watched him pull out the brown trash-bags and carry them a few steps
into the tall grass, then she saw him return to the Cherokee for a shovel.  Still
weeping she watched the killer bury the remains of her friends in the swamp,
hearing the repetive wet scrunch of the shovel as it carved out the grave, seeing the
man's strong angular movements, his singularity of purpose as he dug. Kathie was
being stung all over and she had to keep flinching and jerking around to
shoo the insects off. The rough bark of the oak scraped the back of her neck her
shoulders and back.  Mosquitoes descended on the tender flesh of her naked tits,
drawn instinctively to the warm aurolae and nipples to drive their stingers to the hilt
in the captive female's succulent mammaries.
	It seemed forever as the sun rose slowly. The sky was clear and cloudless as
the killer finished and made his way back to the truck.
	She watched in a haze of misery tormented by the stinging insects and the
tight chain which held her immobile, her jaw aching from the ball-gag, as Dan
disengaged the Mercedes from the Cherokee's tow-bar, started it up and backed it
into the tall grass, further and further until the car began to sink and disappear.
	Now there was no trace left of her or her friends for anyone to find.
	Now she belonged to the killer and she began to cry fitfully feeling the full
extent of her anguish, her lovely black hair hanging over her eyes, sticking to her
sweaty forehead and tear-washed cheeks.
	Then he was coming for her, the coiled bullwhip in his hand and she cringed
from him against the oak.
	He stood over her framed in the early morning sun.
	"Time to start the new day, bitch," he said meanly reaching down to unhook
the end of the leash from her neck and release her from the tree.
	Then she was being pulled by the leash to crawl across the muddy clearing
and toward the woods, her chains rattling as her legs dragged, knees scraping the
ground.


2.
	"I'm going to break you, whore," he told her, leaning forward to whisper the
words softly in her ear.
	He had brought her to a patch of birch trees, yanked her up on her feet by
her leash and tied her between two thin white trunks, her wrists high up, arms wide.
	He had removed the leather cuffs and chains and looped her tender wrists
with ropes knotting them tightly, so tight that almost instantly her hands went
numb, then her feet as he forced her to spread her legs and roped her ankles to the
trunks of the two trees.
	She let him bind her, did not struggle, did not fight him. And even now that
he had removed the ball-gag she did not speak.
	She had stopped crying and her face now looked vacant, her eyes lifeless.
	Dan liked that look.
	It was the look of the victim, already defeated, already accepting.
	He had seen the look before and it always energized him, made him feel truly
alive, in touch with his deepest karmic nature. Kathie was almost his now, probably
more than half-way to complete surrender.
	He'd seen the patch of birch trees when he'd first explored the area and he'd
known instantly what the sturdy upright pole-like trunks would be useful for,
especially the two trees that were five feet apart.  He'd drilled the eye-hooks into the
wood high up, high enough to make Kathie stand tiptoe now as he stepped back
away from her.
	He unfurled the bullwhip as he'd done on the porch of the Petersen house the
previous night in preparation for his savage attack on Donna and he waited
watching his prey closely, studiously.
	Kathie began to tremble involuntarily in anticipation of the pain she knew was
coming but she would not make any eye contact with the killer. Her body was
exceedingly beautiful in the cruel bondage, creamy pale flesh stretched tight,
her rib-cage and hip-bones strikingly etched, thigh muscles flexing slightly above her
knees, feet painfully and stiffly arched.  She was a luscious whip-target,
her big juicy tits jutting from her chest, arms pulled apart, legs wide.
	Slowly, Dan paced around Kathie until he stood behind her.
	Her back muscles rippled, her skin dappled in the morning sunlight, her firm
full ass-cheeks clenching and releasing as the killer took his time, his cock bulging in
his jeans as he tightened his grip on the lash-handle.
	Just then a breeze rustled the tree-leaves overhead.  Kathie moaned and her
calves tensed as she tried to relieve the pressure on her wrists. She broke out in
gooseflesh.
	As she rose slightly on her toes, rising as far as the ropes would allow, Dan
lifted his arm and swung the bullwhip.
	After years of practice he'd finally learned to use this perfect weapon of
punishment and he made its fat tip snap loudly against Kathie's tender white flesh
between her shoulderblades. The hard leather laid a hot small welt there that made
the young bitch cry out and tense up instantly, her head swiveling from side to side
as she tried to look back over her shoulder at him trying to gauge the next blow.
	He didn't let her wait too long for it and swung again, this time tearing the
lash into her left shoulder and making her pull herself up almost off her feet, eyes
shut tightly.
	"Nooo!" she screamed. "Ohh Godd...HELP! gh...gh...HE-ELP ME!"
	"That's right, bitch!" Dan shouted gleefully raising the lash again.
	"Scream! Scream your fuckin' head off!"
	He tore the lash across her right shoulder.
	She sobbed and tried to twist away held between the two trees by the
unmerciful ropes.
	The whip swept and whooshed loudly as he sent its punishing strokes
against the young female's back and shoulders.  Dan loved the racket, the
fierce crack-snap of leather, the dull thud of the blows on woman-meat,
the wild cries of pain and pleas of the victim out here in the wilderness.  He was
cruelly methodical, not sparing his prey in any way, giving her the full measure of
the bullwhip, flogging her back and wrapping the leather tail around her waist,
setting her ablaze with pain before moving down to strike at the fleshy half-moons
of her buttocks. He concentrated his attack there slicing away at the meat of her ass
then pausing to hear her wail and plead with him, slicing away again drawing blood
here and there on her tender flesh, then stopping to listen.
	The sound of a woman in pain was the sweetest music. The rhythm of his
strokes was at first measured and even, taking almost a full three seconds between
blows, then faster, then irregular, then measured again, varying unpredictably until
Kathie no longer even tried to look over her shoulders but hung her head and
screamed and hissed helplessly, her face flushed.
	She'd never imagined, much less felt, such levels of pain in her life and she
hovered on the edge of consciousness, on the edge of sanity. The events of the
previous night and the nightmare ride in the trunk of the convertible, chained,
gagged, unable to see, surrounded by the smell of her dead friends bodies so
horribly mutilated and now this wicked slashing assault on her flesh, all of it was
taking a terrible psychological toll on the college girl.   
	The whip began to lick at her thighs and calves, to wrap around her legs,
leaving hot red welt-lines, irregular ugly red-smears.
	Then, suddenly the killer stopped his onslaught.
	Her head hung down, her chin agains the hard leather of her collar, her
lustrous hair hanging down like an upside down black flame in front of her crotch.
	She was surrounded by the soothing sighing sounds of the woods, the breeze
moving the leaves, birds chirping, but she was lost in the scalding
pain the bullwhip had left on her and she could look down on her thighs and see the
tell-tale marks that were the unassailable proof of her suffering.
	Then she heard him approach her from behind, there was something in his
hand, she tried to turn to see but he grabbed her hair from behind and held her
head firmly.
	She saw what it was only as he brought it up between her legs from
underneath her... a long wooden phallus with sharp little metal barbs
studded all along its two foot lenghth. 
	He pushed it up against her pussy and then drove it upwards into her, still
holding her head and jamming her full of stretching piercing pain.
	"G-gghrraaaaagggg!" she shouted animalistically as Dan pushed the two-foot
long wooden torture-dildo into her, grinding it and rotating it to maximize its effect
until blood dripped down her whip-marked legs.  He had made the device himself,
carving it from a birch-branch just a few days before, nailing the little studs into the
birch-wood knowing what its final purpose was to be.
	"Take it, you fuckin' cunt!" he snarled and then he was stepping back,
leaving the invading weapon hilted in his college girl.
	As he let her go her head tilted backward and she screamed shrilly at the sky
above the trees.
	He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out to jerk off.
	Kathie was a lovely sight for sadistic eyes, hanging between the two birch-
trunks, fucked up the cunt with a birch branch, whip-welts on her belly and thighs.
	He picked up the bullwhip from the ground where he'd dropped it earlier, a
few feet away, and now stood facing his captive, raising the lash.
	Her head swiveled down as she looked at him with pitifully pleading eyes.
	"Oh God...God...please...n-no...no!...NO!"
	"YES, CUNT, YES!"
	And he let the bullwhip fly and swoop and crash across her belly and upper
thighs making her dance between the two trees, going way up on her toes,
the wooden stake buried in her slit.
	He gave his blood-thirsty lust free rein now striking angrily and meanly,
his face disfigured by a vicious scowl.
	This is where bitchmeat belonged, wood-bound, wood-fucked, on the end of
his flailing bullwhip.
	Kathie took the pain with screams that left her throat raw, her body leaping,
twisting, unable to escape the flailing well-placed cuts.  The bullwhip licked and tore
at her strong pale thighs, at her belly and lower abdomen and mons flicking skin
right off her, hot blood snaking down her legs. Then it moved down to her knees
and ankles hacking and tearing at her pretty little tattoo, at the tops of her feet as
she jerked around.  It would stop and start again, stop and start again, sometimes
faster, sometimes slower, each loud whapp seeming to rip the silence of the Florida
woodland apart. Each time the beating stopped the insects moved in on her, buzzing
about her face and eyes, landing on her cheeks, biting her everywhere.  Then the
whip would fly again and the insects would scatter.  
	What was happening to her was way beyond any sane explanation.
	This morning she was supposed to be on her way to a job interview after
breakfast with Donna and Larissa.  Instead, Donna and Larissa lay in hacked up
pieces in the swamp mud and she was screaming under a madman's lash, her
pussy split wide and torn by a huge wooden cock.  Maybe the killer meant to kill
her right here, right now, with the bullwhip.  She was already bleeding and almost
fainting from the pain.  Was this how she was going to die?  What had she done to
deserve this?  Why had this beast chosen her and her friends?  This was supposed to
happen to someone else...those women she'd read about in magazines and
newspapers, or as fiction in novels or films like the one she'd seen last night...but not
to her friends...not to her.
	The flailing lash moved up her legs to her belly laying down new streaks of
intolerable pain and Kathie's head tumbled forward, her body shaking involuntarily.
She sobbed and babbled and the whip continued to fall, mercilessly, unceasingly,
stroke after stroke moving up to her rib-cage and sides but avoiding
her tits, then moving downward again.  The killer circled around her swinging from
different vantage points and she tried to track him pleading with him.
	"Pleeease! A-aaOOOWW!...God! Oh plea-UUHHWHHH! Don't hurt me
any more...don't h-AAWHHHH!...I BEG YOU...OOOOWGGHHH!  WHY!?
PLEEEeeease! Why do you do this? AANNHHHH! Wh-whyyyyy!? STOP! No
more! NO M-AAAUWWWGGHH!"
	Dan continued to deliver fierce whip-cuts across Kathie's back and legs,
swinging the lash across the captive college girl with all his might. He swung back
and forth, up between her spread thighs into her dildo-filled pussy and down across
her rump. Finally, some fifty blows later she stopped screaming, gasped, took five
more full-strength hits wide-eyed and shivering then jerked violently against the
ropes and fainted.
	The killer dropped the bullwhip and stepped up to the unconscious youth to
pull the barbed dildo out of her slowly, her warm blood trickling down the
birchwood shaft and on to his fingers.  He took his knife from the sheath at his waist
and cut her down, freeing her ankles first, then her wrists, she drooping inert,
hanging by one arm as he cut one wrist free then falling to the ground at his feet
with a thump when he cut the remaining rope.
	Then he lifted her up in his arms, enjoying the feverish warmth of her badly
beaten body in his strong hands as he carried her out of the woods and back to the
clearing. He put her down on the ground near the truck and placed the cuffs and
chains back on her wrists and ankles noting how his cruel ropes had marked and
chafed her graceful limbs.
	She started to come to then.
	He rose to his feet, his huge blue-veined prick poking out of his jean trousers.
He rolled her over on her belly and put his booted foot over her head, pressing her
whimpering face into the swamp mud.
	"Before I kill you you're gonna be mine, pig. I told you I was going to break
you..."
	He pressed her face deeper into the dark slime.
	"...and I am going to break you...completely...absolutely...You're gonna go
the limit for me piggie...yes you are...all the way to the end...and then some."
	He licked his lips and let his eyes trail down her body, over the dark red and
purple welts his whip had marked on her, the places where his leather had ripped
her skin, her swollen pussy-lips dripping blood into the ground from the damage of
the barbed wooden dildo.
	"Now I'm gonna let you up and you're gonna answer a little question for
me, understand?"
	She tried to nod.
	"Say: Yes, Master, this worthless bitch understands."
	When she hesitated he pressed his foot down harder.
	"...ugghh!yes..." she sputtered. "Y-yes, master...this...uh...this w-worthless
bitch understands..."
	He reached into the truck and took the shotgun then lifted his foot off her
head.
	Weakly she rose up on her knees.
	"Here's the question, cunt...Would you rather die right here and now?" - he
cocked the shotgun and aimed the barrel right at her face - "Or would you rather
come to my farmhouse with me?"
	She looked up at him utterly lost. He was silouhetted against the giant oak,
his face impassive, an inscrutable mask. He watched her eyes well up with fresh
tears. He knew her answer before she uttered it.
	"...farmhouse..." she said feebly.
	"Good choice," he replied as he leaned the shotgun against the Cherokee.
	"But before we go you're gonna suck my cock again...yeah...that's
right...you heard me...right here, a few feet from your little dead school buddies
buried in the mud...yeah, suck me... like a good little slut."
	He stepped up to her and lifted his erect prick to her face.  She whimpered
and shook her head.
	"Suck me off or die now, cunt," he snarled taking her long dark mane in his
hands.
	She opened her lips wide and closed her eyes.
	He slapped her face hard still holding her by her hair.
	"Open your fuckin' eyes!" he spat.
	She obeyed instantly as the blush of his blow spread across her smooth
cheek.	
	"I want you to look at up at me while you suck me..."
	Dan pushed his prick into his victim's mouth and pulled her toward him by
her hair to fuck her face. She winced a bit but kept her eyes on his.
	"That's right...Good girl," he whispered.
	She began to cry as she sucked him, her tears rolling down his cockshaft and
down on to his balls as he looked out over the endless terrain that led to the
horizon.
	He took his pleasure for nearly a half hour and when he finished with her,
shooting off in her mouth and making her drink it then wiping it off on her face he
let her crumple to the ground in a fetal position and went to the grave of the two
women.
	There he emptied his bladder, put his cock back in his pants, zipped up and
returned to the truck.
	He opened the rear cargo door of the Cherokee, gagged Kathie, pushing the
black ball into her sperm-dripping mouth and lifted her into the back of the truck.
	After draping a tarp over the beaten, defeated female he started up the truck
and drove off in the direction of the farmhouse.


3.
	It was a small room, concrete walls and floor, empty save for an old wooden
table, and dark except for light bulb which dangled from above in one corner. There
were blood-stains on the walls and floor and on the table's surface.
There were polaroid pictures of a young girl cut up and bleeding taped to the walls.
	Kathie hung naked, upside down, by her leather-cuffed ankles from two metal
hooks in the ceiling, legs wide apart forming a wide V, a black blindfold over her
eyes.
	The killer had placed alligator clips on her pussy lips and every ten minutes or
so she received a jolt of electricity from an automated voltage regulator. It was not
enough juice to be serious but it was enough to make her jerk around and groan.
	Her arms were stretched apart and roped to metal hooks on opposite walls.
	Her pretty hands opened and closed, sometimes clenched into fists.
	The whip-marks from the beating that morning had all turned ugly and her
lovely body was a mass of dark stripes and bruises.
	While she'd hung there he'd been tempted to whip her again.
	So he'd gone to the rack on the wall, picked up the three-foot long, quarter-
of-an-inch thick wooden dowel and approached his hanging victim.
	Taking his time, walking around her and choosing his targets carefully he'd
caned Kathie's thighs and lower belly.
	Each severe swat had driven wood into girlmeat with decisive fury making
the young bitch yelp and howl.  She could do nothing but anticipate the next cut as
her Master slowly circled her.  She would hear his bare feet on the concrete floor
and then he would stop and then the high-pitched whistle of the wooden stick would
fill the room and the dull whapp would follow sending fiery pain-bursts through her.
Her stretched legs would kick and bend enticingly, her feet wriggling above the
tight leather cuffs. He concentrated his efforts on the meaty backs of her thighs,
taking his time between blows, jerking off, stepping closer to rub his cock against
her welted back, then stepping back to hit and hit her again and again in the same
spot, harder, harder until the vicious pain had made her piss herself. The urine ran
hot down her belly and back, into her dangling mane of hair to drip down and
puddle on the floor under her.
	A small pair of walkman earphones led from Kathie's head to a portable
cassette recorder on the table beside her.
	"You are slime," the voice on the tape kept saying to her over and over as
the wooden stick slammed into her legs and belly, wounding her, making her writhe
and shiver.
	It was Dan the Knife Man's voice.
	"You are shit." It said to her.
	"You are worthless."
	"You will die for your Master," it told her.
	"Say it," it beckoned.
	Electrical bursts shot into her swollen pussy.
	The stick struck the sides of her hanging thighs.
	At first she did not say it. Would not say it.
	Dan delivered a final brutal stroke across the sensitive area just above her hips
which made left her spasming and groaning and he retreated to watch her hang.  He
sat in the shadows on the comfortable easy chair, sipping lemonade as the tape
looped over and over playing its demented mantric message loudly into Kathie's
ears.
	Dan jerked off with slow even strokes.
	The sight of a female hanging upside down always got him going.
	Blood trickled from a few of the strokes his wooden rod had laid on her.
	She twitched and groaned as the electricity discharged in her pussy.
	He sat in the darkness of the room he'd built in the abandoned farmnhouse,
his torture room where Kelli Ann had died for him and watched the college girl
hang there, blind, helpless and losing her mind. The sense of total power and control
over her young life made him feel almost dizzy with pleasure.
	At first she did not say the words.
	But eventually she did...at first unrecognizably, muttered, almost breathed into
the shadows.
	Then clearly.
	"I will die for m-my Master."
	Dan's balls tingled at the sound of it.
	He jerked off a little faster.
	Soon it would be night again outside.

4.

	Later, Dan lay naked on the dirty mattress on the old four-poster bed, in the
room at the front of the abandoned farmhouse, looking up at the night-sky through
the cracked window-pane and the wackily tilted venetian blind.  Beyond the hum of
the air-conditioner he'd stuck in the ancient slide-up window a year before and
connected to the gasoline-driven generator he'd rigged up outside he could hear
Kathie's moans and monotone repetitions of the words on the tape.  The sound was
lulling him to sleep.
	After beating her again for almost a half hour with the wooden rod he had
shot off on her face as she hung upside down crying, pumping his shaft with his
right hand and squeezing his balls with his left, until he emptied himself on the
young student. Then he'd let her down only to hang her up again this time by her
wrists on her knees, ankles bound with wire to an eye-hook in the floor-boards,
alligator clips in her pussy and an additional pair in her nipples so that all night long
the young bitch would be in constant psychological and physical torment.
	Before leaving her he'd re-filled his glass with the lemonade, cold from the
refrigerator in the kitchen and he stood over her drinking.
	She looked up at him, sweaty, disheveled, his sperm-gobs on her cheeks, her
eyes pleading, then closing tightly as the electricity shot into her pussy and nipples.
	"Want some, bitch?" he asked, holding the lemonade close to her face so that
she could feel the cool surface of the glass on her hot forehead.
	The torture room was not air-conditioned like the bedroom. It was a window-
less hot-box which had been the pantry of the old farmhouse. It was perfect for
Dan's private work. Kelli Ann's screams had filled it. In fact, it was the dead
teenager's blood that still stained the table surface, the pale white walls and floor.  It
was the polaroids he'd taken of her during the interminable torture that were still
taped all over the room.  He'd seen Kathie's horror when her eyes had lingered on
the more gruesome ones, the ones he'd blown up on his computer, the ones where
Kelli Ann lay bound to the table as he sliced off her little titties with the scalpel.
	He poured the lemonade out on Kathie's whipped up-raised shoulder and the
cold liquid ran down into her arm-pit and down her side to drip on the floor.
	She licked desperately at her skin, gasping. Sticky smears of his cum linked
her face to her upper arm.
	"Pleease, Master," she moaned looking up at him. "Pleeease...I'm th-
thirsty..so..so thirsty..." 
	"Thirsty, bitch?" He smiled down on her. "Drink this," he'd growled.
	Lifting his cock he'd pissed in her face and she'd opened her mouth,
grimacing in disgust, trying to placate her thirst with his hot gush. His urine had
over-filled the round o' of her pink lips to run down the front of her body filling
the air-less room with its sharp pungency; it puddled with her own waste which had
earlier drained from her hanging body to the floor during the beating with the
wooden rod.
	He'd laughed at her, pissed on her face and on her tits, rubbed his dick clean
in her hair then placed the lemonade glass, still half-full where she would be able to
see it but never reach it, a couple of feet away, on the edge of the table.
	For a bit longer he'd watched her jerk around to the electrical jolts from the
regulator box, her eyes dazed but fixed on the glass of lemonade on the table. 
	He made sure the walkman earphones through which his hypnotic voice
continued its inescapable assault on her sanity still fit snugly over her head and he
raised the volume a notch.
	Then, without a word he'd turned left the room and closed the heavy
wooden door behind him.
	He'd left the light on for her so that she could look at the glass of
lemonade all night long while the smell and taste of his piss and sperm cloyed her
throat.
	As he lay on the worn out mattress where he'd raped Kelli Ann the year
before, enjoying her in every way he could before finishing her young
life, Dan drifted off to sleep, his cock still hard, the image of Kathie bound
between the two birch trees out on the swamp clear in his head...and then the
darker images of disemboweled Larissa...Donna crushed by the truck against the
wall...long-ago Anna Wilkins screaming as the chain-saw tore her in half...the three
college girls gruesomely crucified and spilling their guts...
all played deliciously in his mind, each blood-thirsty detail of his kills carrying him
deeper into the midnight of sleep.
	And in the farmhouse pantry turned torture-chamber Kathie too descended.
	For her the night was lived in micro-seconds under the single bare light-bulb,
an eternity.
	Her bound limbs had long ago gone numb. Her knees ached terribly and she
was unable to shift her position even slightly to avoid the pain.
	Dan's sperm and piss dripped from her chin on to her tits and off her nipples
in tiny droplets.
	Her eyes drifted from the cold glass of lemonade the Master had left on the
table to the pictures of a young girl taped to the wall whose little breasts were being
sliced off.
	She imagined she could hear the young girl scream as the Master pressed his
sharp demanding blade into young tanned flesh.
	She would almost nod out and then the electrical torture would again attack
her pussy and nipples, waking her, punishing her cruelly, reminding her that as a
woman she had absolutely no other choice now but to suffer with her tits and her
cunt...to pay...because as the voice kept telling her she was nothing but slime and
shit...She was no longer Kathie the college student, the art major who studied Monet
and VanGogh but the lowest of all living things...worthless...Because of her, it
reminded her repetitively, her friends had been slaughtered.  Because of her, her
family would suffer.  Her cunt and her big pretty tits had brought this about and
needed to be punished. As woman-meat she was guilty. Had always been and would
always be.  And her sins deserved the worst punishment imaginable.  Worse perhaps
than even what that young girl in those photographs had taken.  Worse than could
even be imagined. 
	And sometime in the night as she slid lower and lower, sometimes just before
the electricity flowed she could feel the Master's huge cock inside her
as he slammed her down into the Petersen's bed in what now seemed a lifetime
ago...  And then his massive appendage became in her drifting mind the birch-wood
dildo slammed up into her during the fierce whipping in the swamp.
	She would moan softly, repeating the words on the tape which were now
becoming her own words as her delicate feminine spirit began to break down under
the viciously pre-calculated assault.
	I am nothing. I am no one. I am worthless.
	....nothing.....no one....worthless....
	....I am shit....I belong to Him...I will live only to please Him....
	....I will die for the Master
	....bleed and die....for the Master...
	Broken, she hung there, kneeling, her eyes glassy and inexpressive.
	
5.
	When morning came, he slapped her awake and tore the alligator clips off her
with two savage tugs.  Then he pulled the walkman earphones off her head and cut
her loose.
	She slid to the floor at his feet and lay there in a catatonic daze.
	He reached down and hooked the leash to her collar to drag her out to the
kitchen.
	"Crawl, pig," he ordered.
	 She obeyed, shuffling after him with much difficulty groaning as blood
rushed back into her hands and feet and cramped muscles.
	He had dumped something that looked like oatmeal into one plastic bowl and
water into a second bowl and he pushed her face toward the bowls tying the end of
the leash to the door knob above her.
	She ate desperately, gagging, choking back her disgust, and lapped gasping
thirstily at the water while he sat at the table to coffee and toast.
	It hadn't taken long to turn the bitch into the animal she was, he mused,
watching her push her whole face into the bowl, occasionally raising her pretty eyes
to glance fearfully in his direction.
	"That's right," he growled at her. "Eat it all up like a good little bitch-
dog...You're gonna need all your strength today for me..."
	Dimly, as she saw the light of the sun through the dirty kitchen windows, she
realized a new day had begun....a new day of torment...
	He tossed her a piece of his bread and she licked it up off the floor.
	When he rose from the table she cowered against the wall.
	He went to her, unwound the leash from the door-knob and pulled her out
into the bright morning.
	The yard around the farmhouse was completely walled off by a ten-foot high
wooden fence. Beyond the fence there were pinelands to the north and swamps to
the south. The nearest neighbor was ten miles to the east. The nearest town was
forty six miles in the same direction.  To the west lay nothing but
the vast expanse of Cedarlakes National Woodlands.
	Dan stood for a moment in the doorway with his leashed beaten slave-bitch at
his side, breathing in the fresh morning air then he pulled her across the un-kempt,
weed-ridden grass to a post in a corner of the yard on which a wooden pillary had
been mounted.  It was one of those devices from medieval times constructed to trap
the head and wrists of the victim and hold him or her for public humiliation or
perhaps a whipping in the town square.
	He'd made it himself working from a picture he'd found on the internet.
	He drew her up on her feet, opened the pillory and pulled her head down so
that her neck slid into the concave depression in the wood. She had to go up on her
toes to fit into the device.
	"Put your hands on it," he ordered and she obeyed wordlessly.
	He removed her collar with the leash, dropped it in the grass by her feet, and
closed and locked the pillory then he took a garden hose with a pressure nozzle and
he trained a freezing spray of water on the trapped college girl.
	She squealed and whined as he hosed down her welted back and asscheeks
and her kicking legs then she sputtered as he shot the water into her face and head.
	He moved up behind her and ordered her to spread her legs.
	As he trained the harsh spray on her swollen punished pussymeat and asshole
from behind she tried to squeeze her thighs together.
	"Keep those legs wide, slut!"
	She obeyed with difficulty, her hands trapped in the pillory opening and
closing, her head swiveling helplessly.
	"I want you nice and clean..."
	He stepped up close behind her and thrust the hose-nozzle right into her
cooze pressing the trigger to keep the spray as focused as possible, the forced
water-flow now jetting into the depths of her violated womb as she cried out and
struggled against the unyielding wooden pillory, her toes gripping the wet grass.
	Then he came around and shot the water into her face ordering her to open
her mouth so that he could flood it with the stinging coldness, making her gag,
blinding her as he sprayed her eyes and hair.
	The image flickered through her mind of him hosing the remains of Donna
off the Petersen carport wall and the driveway where Larissa lay gutted... and then
suddenly he had shut off the water and disappeared back into the farmhouse.
	She was in the pillory out in the hot morning sun for quite a while before he
returned. By then her skin was dry but not her long black hair which clung to her
face and shoulders.  She looked up to see him emerge from the house wearing thick
leather gloves,  carrying an enema bag with hose and plastic nozzle and two black
plastic plugs. Instantly, she began to whimper.
	He went around behind her to hang the enema bag, which seemed to be filled
to its limit, from the branch of a small tree that hung over the fence above her.
	Then spreading her asscheeks open he pushed the plastic hose-nozzle up into
her tight little asshole.
	She heard a metallic click which she knew was the device that allowed the
fluid from the enema bag into the hose, then a flowing fiery heat invaded
her innards.
	He was standing in front of her now, looking into her eyes, gloating, jerking
off slowly.
	"Hot oil, cunt," he said softly as she stared up at him, mouth wide, lost
in the horrible sensation that engulfed her, going up on her toes stiffly, not 
even able to breathe.
	"Hot enought to fry meat..."
	Then the scream came, a mindless wailing coloratura shriek that scared
the birds out of the trees all around the farmhouse....and a second shriek...and a
third...as Dan laughed, licked his lips and masturbated watching the horrible
suffering of his young dark-haired female captive.
	When the enema bag was empty he pulled out the nozzle and shoved one of
the rubber plugs into her asshole.  Then he went back into the farmhouse to re-fill
the bag with the contents of the pot that simmered on the electric hot-plate in the
kitchen leaving Kathie writhing and screaming in the yard.
	He came back with another full bag of fire-hot oil which he emptied into her
intestines plugging her up again.
	As the morning went on he hosed four full bags into her churning guts and
two into her womb plugging her up each time, pausing to watch her squirm and
almost pass out, watching her scream her lungs out and beg him to stop.
	When he did eventually stop her belly was beautifully distended with the thick
hot fluid.  It seemed like the girl had become nine-months pregnant in less than two
hours. Kathie was on the edge of consciousness, her innards seemed to be on fire
and ready to burst, as if she had swallowed burning coals whole.
	Working quickly, Dan took a stretch of rope, opened the pillory and
looped her neck in a knotted noose as she leaned weakly against the post. Then he
tossed the end of the rope up and over the branch from which he'd suspended the
enema bag and pulled the young bitch up almost off her feet to choke on the 
strangle-cord.  He immediately handcuffed her wrists behind her so that she hung
with her over-sized belly and her big tits jutting forward, in Dan's mind, just
begging for it...beautiful tortured whore just begging for a good fuckin' beating.
	And by God, he was gonna give it to her.
	From the rack in the torture room inside the house he got the multi-tongued
lash, the one with thumb-tacks on the end of each leather cord, the one he'd used
long ago on Anna Wilkins.
	The hot noon-time sun shone in the clear sky as he walked over to where
Kathie hung, her feet barely touching the grassblades as she spun slowly around, her
luscious body all sweaty still bearing the vicious marks of yesterday's bull-whipping,
some of which stretched across her bloated belly.
	He stood before her, the lash dangling from his black-gloved hand.
	"Tell me what you are," he ordered.
	She gasped for air, sweatbeads on her forehead, trickling into her eyes, the
sun blinding her, as hot as the heat inside her which was melting her, eating away at
her like a slow flame.
	At first she could not even think, then the voice on the tape, the voice which
had poured into her ears all night long and finally filled her head with its inescapable
logic, made itself known.
	"Aghhh -" she choked. "Ah-g I am n-nothing...gg..no-no one...w-wuhh...
worthless...p-piece of shit,wh-whore...."
	"Good girl," Dan said and raised his weapon. "You learned your little lesson
last night....now here's your fucking reward..."
	He slashed the barbed leather tongues hard across Kathie's swollen belly. As
she gave out a choked-off cry, one leg kicking up, bent at the knee,
the rope tightened cruelly around her neck.
	"Yeahh!" Dan shouted and began to whip Kathie's abdomen fiercely making
the tacks pierce into her skin so that he had to yank the lash back to rip them out. 
She would try to keep her feet on the ground but the sharp bites
of the lash made her kick and lunge involuntarily.  With each shift of her
weight the rope noose tightened until she was flushed, mouth wide and gasping, her
head slightly tilted as she pirouetted to Dan's whipping.  Blood was trickling
from the small circular wounds the tacks left in her tender belly-flesh and
tiny rivulets ran down her whipped thighs all the way to her knees and shins.
	Dan whipped harder and harder with one aim in mind.
	"I'm gonna whip you til you blow those plugs out, whore!" he shouted at
her.
	He circled her in one direction as she rotated in the opposite one, her
cuffed hands like tiny wings fluttering behind her as her arms jerked in response to
each whipcut, her shoulders rising and falling, her big tits bouncing.  She
pleaded with her eyes looking for his mercy finding only her black-gloved
tormentor's hard cold stare, his sneering grimace of pleasure.  Desperately she tried
to push the plugs out of her ass and cunt as the whip-slashes drove the tacks deep
into her stomach, sometimes leaving gash-cuts as Dan ripped the lash out of her. 
She tried to concentrate her energy on the invasive stoppers that kept the hot oil
inside her.  It seemed that Dan's blows would tear her skin off her and explode her
bursting belly and with each turn the noose around her throat cut off more air and
blood from her head until she was dizzy and drooling, her tongue lolling, her feet
slipping on the wet grass.  
	Now, Dan whipped her with all his might, the multi-tongued lash
whistling sharply to deliver devastating damage, driving tacks to the hilt in the
young slut.
	"G-ghhhhhhrrrrggggg!" she keened, teeth clenched suddenly.
	The plug in her pussy shot out of her explosively and hot oil sprayed
down her thighs.
	Dan kept whipping and whipping and whipping.
	"GGAAAGGHHHHRRRGHHH!!" she keened, and finally the rubber
plug in her ass loosened and popped out.  A gush of oil, shit and blood poured out
of the young college-girl and Dan dropped the whip and unsheathed his knife
to cut her off the choke-rope.
	As she sank to her knees, hands still cuffed behind her, he reached down for
the collar and leash which he'd left on the ground by the pillory post.  He drew it
quickly around her neck and buckled it tight then without giving her a moment to
recuperate from her horrible ordeal he un-cuffed her wrists and tugged on the leash
to make her crawl after him back into the house.
	He pulled her into his air-conditioned bedroom, closed the door behind him
and ordered her up on the old four-poster bed, to lie on his filthy mattress. 
	 Once she was on her back he cuffed her wrists to straps that dangled from
the headboard posts buckling the leather bands tightly. Then he went to the drawer
of the old dresser.
	She raised her head off the bed weakly to see what he was doing and saw
him standing over her, the sunlight coming in through the open slats in an old
venetian blind that hung lopsided on the dirty window making a pattern of
converging lines across his powerful chest as he strapped a huge black dildo with
steel barbs to his cock and buckled its support strap around his waist.
	"Now ole Dan's gonna have some fun, girl," he said climbing on to the bed
and prying her legs open.
	"...oh Godd," she moaned. "Oh Jesus pleeease no....no...."
	The black rubber dildo pointed straight up sheathed on Dan's erect cock as
he took the college girl's punctured bleeding thighs in his leather-gloved hands and
pushed them back and apart to open the swollen, scalded slit of her shaved pussy
still leaking oil on to the filthy mattress.  She saw the barbs catch a gleam of the
sunlight as he crouched over her.
	"Ohh yeahh, girl," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Ole Dan's gonna
have his fun..."
	"...no..." she moaned as he put the huge black weapon right to her
oil-burned slit-mouth.
	"...no, no, n-n-AAGGHHHH!"
	Her head arched backward, her body tense, her eyes squeezed shut as he
pushed the dildo up into her, sliding to hilt in her, filling her, sliding down to kneel
on the bed and beginning to fuck her with mighty thrusts of his hips.  He grabbed
her big tits, his black gloves digging into the tender tit-meat and he fucked the little
bitch hard, tearing the barbs in and out of her tender cuntflesh until it bled, looking
down at the pistoning black dildo as it entered and exited, enjoying her screaming
suffering as he closed his eyes and fucked her. Fucked her and fucked her. Blood-
fucked her.	
	Dan had been fantasizing about this moment since he'd seen the young
college sophomore walking past him that long-ago day on the street. And now the
moment had arrived and he was living it gloriously, slamming the barbed dildo into
her oil-scalded pussy, ramming it deep and making her sob and plead and
shake her head while he squeezed her boobs in his strong fingers.  He fucked her
like that for almost a quarter of an hour then he slid out of her pussy, pushed back
harder on her thighs and put the black barbed cock to her asshole.  Mercilessly he
pierced into his shrieking captive, sinking to the hilt in her rectum, splitting her anus
wide open as blood and oil bubbled up out of her.  He fucked her little ass for all it
was worth smashing her into the old mattress making the whole bed creak and
pound against the wall. This could be called by no other name than rape, violent,
undeserved, unrepressed, bestial rape, the kind that Dan most enjoyed, the kind that
made his heart race and his pulse pound in his temples, the kind that made him
salivate, his pupils dilated as if on a heroin high.
	This was so much more intense than the rape in the Petersen house...that had
been a mere foreshadowing, a mere prelude to this savagery.
	This was PAYBACK.
	As he pounded the barbed dildo into poor Kathie's bleeding asshole he slid
down on top of her, giving her his full weight, seizing her head by her hair to
whisper in her ear, her delicate little ear with the four tiny rings pierced through the
pink lobe.
	"You couldn't save your friends, could you pig? No. No. You couldn't.
Uhhh...How could you save them? How could you when it was because of you
that they had to die..."
	Kathie's eyes went very wide and she sobbed as the killer slammed himself
into her tearing her all up inside.
	"Yeahh...you heard me pig...Larissa and Donna died because of you. It was
you I wanted all along....uhhh...only you, whore....they just happened to be in 
the wrong fucking place...uhhh...at the wrong..ugh...fuckin' time..."
	He pulled her face to his to smear his lips on his then twisted it away to talk
into her ear again.
	"You don't even remember seeing me before, do you?"
	He pounded deep into her tight rectal tract.
	"DO YOU?"
	"..AAHH-Gggghh...n-no...no, Master..."
	 How long had the Master been stalking her? Had his eyes raped her as she'd
moved about obliviously in some public place? She thought of him hungering for
her pain and her blood, scheming, learning all he could about her before making his
move. And as he rammed the  barbed dildo into her guts she suddenly realized that
the voice on the tape, the voice she'd been listening to all night as she'd hung in his
torture room, was his voice...the same voice, an invading darkness that washed
away her ability to think, that took over her and conquered her.
	"Fuckin' little tramp...with your good grades and your smarmy sweet little
goody-two-shoes crap...uhhh...Its slimy cunts that you that ruin everything...ahh..
take over everything...keeping men on a string...playing with them...bitch!"
	He was scowling now, twisting her head back by the hair so that he could
look right into her eyes while he pounded the barbed dildo into her insides.
	"Well Dan's putting and end to that for good.  You won't be painting or
drawing or designing anything ever again...uhhh...goddamn sluttt....and you won't be
showing those big juicy tits to anybody...will you? WILL YOU, PIG?"
	"...aa-AGGH! No! No, Master...ahghh...never...n-nuhh...never...I'm y-yours
now...owwhhh...y-yours....I...ahh...I will die...ughhh...die for you, Master...its...its
what...uhhh...I d-deserve...d-die...die for you..."
	Going back up on his haunches, a wicked slitted-eye smile on his face, Dan
slid the dildo up out of her asshole and back deep into her cunt slowly, taking his
time to sink it in and hilt it, making his college-girl slaughter-slut scream with
newfound pain.
	He went on fucking her for most of the afternoon, giving her no respite,
slapping her face hard when she fainted to bring her around, sometimes choking her
with his gloved hands, sometimes punching her bloody legs and belly while he
fucked her. He sat on her face and rubbed his asshole down into her face, made her
lick his balls while he slapped and punched her boobs, then slid down to thrust the
killing dildo into her bleeding vagina until the mattress was stained with fresh
blood...Kelli Ann's blood was only a dark smear now...Kathie's was fresh warm and
red and the bedroom smelled of it...Then he would pull out and slam the barbed
weapon strapped to his cock back up into her ass, tearing fresh pleading screams
out of her every time he switched holes. He raped the strong young girl well past
exhaustion, well beyond all sane limits, keeping up a constant flow of devastating
verbal humiliation. Then as the sun began to cast long fading shadows in the
bedroom he climbed up on top of her, his knees on her shoulders, to sit on her chest
and squeeze her nostrils closed...when she gasped for air he thrust the black blood-
and-shit-covered dildo into her mouth and slammed his hips forward to fuck her
throat...She gave out shrill muffled shrieks, gagged by the dildo, wide-eyed as the
barbs tore the roof of her mouth and tongue and slid down her spit-foaming throat,
killing dildo hilted in the college-girl's pretty face,
Dan's crotch right up against her nose. He fucked her mouth and throat just as he'd
fucked her ass- and cunt-holes, his leather-gloved hand gripping the bed's headboard
the other, clutching his young slut's head by her smooth black mane...then, as night
came he rid himself of the dildo and the gloves and fucked the bitch with his hard
bare prick, beat her and slapped her with his bare hands and fists, thrusting and
pounding into her, filling her cut-up cunt and ass and mouth, switching around and
giving her plenty of action in each violated opening, often holding back at the
demanding edge of orgasm, managing to stay ahead of the overwhelming pleasure
of release, managing too to keep from strangling the little bitch to death, a
temptation that nearly won out several times during the long afternoon and evening
of rape.
	Finally, his cock engorged, hard and red, he stepped off the bed.
	He was pretty sure now that Kathie would not live to see morning.
	

6.

	Kathie, sweet young Kathie, former sophomore art student, knelt on the table
in the torture room.
	Her calves were pressed up against her thighs, the heels of her feet up against
her whip-torn asscheeks, ankles roped tightly to welted upper thighs, hands roped
behind her, so that only her knees came in contact with the table top as she hung by
the chain.
	Dan had driven small steel hooks right through her nipples then he'd ordered
her to open her mouth and stick out her tongue and he'd pierced another metal
hook through the pink mouth-muscle.  All three hooks were then linked
by a small strand of wire and then connected to a meat-hook on the pulley-line
that led to the chain so that her tongue and nipples were pulled upward together
toward the ceiling.
	The young bitch made gagging, gurgling sounds as her drool dripped off her
chin, her eyes forced to stare upward at the dilapitated ceiling above her.  Her hands
and feet twitched as she tried to balance on her knees knowing that if she were to
fall her tongue and nipples would be ripped right out of her.
	One end of the wire that linked the three hooks hung down into a candle-
flame on top of the torture table.  The heat of the flame would soon make its way
up the wire, into the hooks and finally into Kathie's pierced flesh.
	The perfection of Kathie's torment, her taut and severe bondage, pleased Dan
the Knife Man who sat in the old easy chair stroking himself slowly,
watching his victim suffer.
	Her body was a mess of welts, cuts, pierce-wounds and bruises now.  Blood
trickled from her violated ass and cunt down the insides of her thighs to pool
around her knees.
	Before bringing her back into the torture room her killer had leashed her,
yanked her off the bed where he'd viciously raped her for hours and led her into
the kitchen to the dog-bowls on the floor. Eat, pig,' he'd snarled, and she'd tried to
force down the cold tasteless gray oatmeal he'd poured for her from the old pot
that had been sitting on the stove, trying desperately to obey the Master as he stood
over her but in the end her burned out guts rejected the attempt and she threw up
all over the floor.  So he'd dragged her outside angrily and hosed her down again
with the freezing spray from the garden hose, the sky already dark overhead, the
crickets and tree-frogs filling the night with their racket.  When he finished she
watched him go back inside the kitchen with the hose to clean up her vomit. He'd
left her handcuffed and leashed in the farmhouse yard and she watched the light
ebbing from the sky in dark purple and reddish hues.  Her body
was a mass of pain inside and out.  She had been thoroughly violated and even the
instinct to escape, to get up on her feet and find a gate in the wooden fence, was
gone.  She stood shivering in the grass waiting for him to return, waiting for what
she now knew was ultimately irreversible, knowing  that even if she could survive
beyond this night it would not be for very much longer. She was his now. 	His
forever.
	And now in the torture room, kneeling on the wooden table where Kelli Ann
Wallford had succumbed nearly a year before, Kathie felt the searing heat of the
flame enter her pierced nipples and a few seconds later her tongue and
she began to cry.
	"Mmmmm," Dan groaned softly, masturbating, enjoying his captive's
anguish, watching the effect of the slow heat on her quivering flesh.  He enjoyed
seeing a girl cry. It made his cock stone-hard.
	"Suffer, sweetie...yeahh...suffer for your Master."
	As the heat grew to unbearable limits and she began to tremble visibly,
Dan rose slowly and approached the table.  He reached into the box of .18 gauge
hypodermic needles he'd brought out earlier and taking one he held the steel
tip in the candle flame for a few moments until a wisp of smoke trailed up
from it. Then he brought it up to Kathie's left tit and pushed it into the side
of the stretched globe watching her react.  She gave out a whimper and tried to
look down but the hook in her tongue prevented her from moving her head.
	He took another needle, heated it up and inserted it slowly, deeply into her
other breast.
	Taking his time Dan tortured his hapless girl-toy with needle after needle,
putting twenty in each big tit, pushing the tiny hot steel spears deep into mammary
meat.  The hooks in her nipples and tongue were almost glowing
now and she was quivering and sobbing and making odd sounds in her throat.
	He put his hand on her shoulder.
	"Calm down, bitch...do you hear me?"
	She nodded almost imperceptibly.
	"Calm down. We have a long way to go..."
	Obediently she brought herself under control, trembling just a bit less,
still crying, but now quiet, a tiny drop of blood oozing from her tongue, on to her
lip, and down to spatter her thigh.	
	Dan continued to put more needles in her tits, now piercing into the auroleae
and at the base of the hooked nipples and after nearly thirty more Kathie had begun
to sob softly again. Heedless, Dan continued heating up needles and piercing them
into his slave.  He put some in her pussy lips making her jerk around so that the
chain that held her hooked nipples and tongue rattled against its hook in the ceiling. 
He put ten in each of her thighs and then spreading her
swollen pussy lips open he touched the tip of a hot needle to her hooded clit.
She quaked and bounced slightly making little anxious cries in her throat, eyes very
wide, brows arched, drooling, knowing what was coming as he grimaced and
pushed the needle to the hilt into her, stabbing clear through her clitoris and into
muscle flesh beneath.
	"AA-Auuwwwhhrgghhh!" she screamed almost losing her balance on the
table feeling the yanking hold of the hooks in her tits and tongue.
	"Yeahh, pig...yeahh..." Dan growled lifting another needle to the flame.
	He went around behind her and taking her hip to steady her he drove the hot
hypodermic shaft down underneath the nail of her pretty painted big toe.
	"Nggagggghh!"
	He came around to heat up another one and stab it into her belly button.
	And again behind her to put another one in the toe of the other foot.
	He put needles into each of her toe-nails, some in the arch of her feet, some in
her ankles. He put some in her cheeks, a couple in her upper arms and
shoulders. Then finally he was out of needles and the box was empty.
	Now he came around in front of her.
	Climbing up on the edge of the easy chair he reached up to where the chain
was connected to the hook in the ceiling.  He unhooked it and pulled it upward
bringing Kathie higher, re-connecting the chain on a link further down so that
the young college-girl now strained in agony against the upward pull of the
hooks, her tits hauled obscenely upward, her tongue nearly all the way out of her
head, she looking up at her Master as he smiled down on her.
	He stepped down and began to pull all the hypodermic needles out of the
front of her body and face. Each small wound bled and soon her sweaty skin was
covered with tiny blood-trickles that ran down her cheeks, down her ribs and belly
and legs to the table's surface.
	He pulled the candle away from the wire and from the rack on the wall of the
room he took the dogwhip. It was not a common dogwhip. Like most of his other
weapons he had customized it. Each of the twelve tongues was capped with a tiny
lead spike.
	Jerking off with his left hand and taking the dogwhip in his right he began to
whip Kathie's hooked, up-stretched, needle-pierced boobs, taking a swat at each
lovely tit-globe to inflict hurt and damage then waiting, watching her, stroking
himself....swatting again and pausing...taking almost three minutes between
cuts...making each one count...making the torture last.  He struck harder and harder,
speeding up slightly, enjoying the way the tiny spikes tore cuts
on the college-girl's tit-meat.  She tried to look down at him, her eyes begging,
but the hook tore at her tongue and she babbled and tears streamed down her
face.  He swung the spiked dogwhip across both tits, across her welted belly and
thighs, harder, always harder and more viciously jerking himself off faster as
her skin tore off and her blood spattered him. Then he went around behind her,
yanked the needles from her toes and as the blood spurted from the tiny wounds he
brought the dogwhip down savagely on the tender soles of her feet.
	"Y-Ygghhhh!" Kathie sob-gasped. "Owwwhhh! GGhhawhhhh!"
	He flogged her pretty little limbs repeatedly, stopped for a moment, and
flogged again savagely, furiously...stopped...began again...stopped.
	Kathie was shuddering, shaking, blood trailed down her legs and from her
savaged tits.
	"...can't get enough..." he growled and flogged her feet again, moved to her
shoulders, then her ankles until the spikes had carved out jagged bloodwounds on
the screaming girl all over, randomly.
	He climbed up on the chair's edge again and reached up to the chain.
	This time he lifted Kathie completely off the table so that she hung by her 
big bleeding stretched tits and tongue, hung for him, a piece of  female meat.
	He dropped the dogwhip as he stepped down.
 	"Whore!" he snarled in sadistic fury taking the wooden club from the wall-
rack. A deep primal instinct surged in him impossible to control.
	"Goddamn, piece-of-shit, SCUMBAG!"
	And he swung the club across the hanging female.
	The heavy polished wood smacked into the side of her strong thighs with
a dull thud and she screamed.
	"Filthy CUNT!"
	He swung the weapon from the opposite direction so it struck her from the
left.
	In the small room the sound the club made when it swung through the air
and landed on girlmeat was impressive.
	Kathie wailed then choked puking out blood and bits of oatmeal.
	She rotated on the chain, the hooks nearly ripping out of her nipples, blood
spurting from her tongue.
	He swung the club across the shins of her up-bent legs.
	Both leg-bones snapped audibly and as she jerked in response to the terrible
pain one nipple was torn free.
	He smashed the club across her shoulder, breaking her upper arm and the
hook ripped through the remaining nipple.  For a brief moment she hung by her
tongue.
	He swung the club with all his might into her belly.
	It landed with a sick wet smack and immediately as she shrieked her tongue
tore with a wet rending sound, split apart by the sharp metal hook, and the bitch fell
forward, collapsing on to the table, legs still bound to thighs, arms behind her, her
ribs breaking on impact. 
	Dan dropped the club, unsheathed his knife and moved toward the table.
	He cut the ropes that held Kathie in bondage and her broken limbs sprang
free.  She lay on her belly on the torture table, face down, groaning, looking up
weakly to see her killer aim the camera at her.
	Her head slumped down again, blood pouring from her lips, as she heard the
flash of the bulb go off repeatedly then he was turning her over on her back and a
thousand points of agony came to life all over her.
	Above her she could see the ceiling of the torture room, the chipped paint,
the chain on which she'd been hanging, the hooks with her tongue and nipples
stuck on them like bloody morsels.
	She realized she would soon die.  This was the last day of her life.
	Two more flashes of the camera and Dan was standing over his victim with
his hunting knife sharp and gleaming, his cock big and hard for the kill.
	He had hoped to get five or six days from the big-titted college girl but it was
now clear that his estimate, based on the time he'd taken with Kelli Ann, had been
far too optimistic.  The clubbing had nearly finished Kathie and she lay broken and
bleeding for him.  Even if he did nothing she would die within an hour. Something
in this young cunt had triggered a deeper well of violence inside him, deeper and
more demanding than any previous victim.  Perhaps it was the fact that she came at
the end of a delicious trio, Larissa and Donna having already driven his sadistic kill-
lust beyond any hope of control. Donna especially had brought him to a fever pitch
when she'd lost her sanity and sense of self, making him completely aware of the
fact that he had raped and tortured not just that rich young cunt's sweet flesh but
her mind and her soul as well.
	He climbed up on the strong pine-wood table, pulled Kathie's broken legs
apart and knelt between them as she moaned feebly.
	The sudden vivid memory of Donna dipping her face into Larissa's gutted
body filled Dan with demented sexual energy.  He had seen something few humans
ever dreamed about, much less participated in. And now a new mind-shattering
experience lay immediately ahead.
	He leaned down and kissed Kathie's bleeding lips, the rusty taste making his
head spin. He moaned and licked into her open mouth and traced the jagged edges
of her torn tongue with his and he pressed himself down into her shattered rib-cage.
	She gasped for air and coughed up bloody spit.
	The little slut was his.
	He looked down into her dark eyes.
	"Hold on for me..." he told her. "Can you hear me, pig?"
	She nodded weakly.
	"I want you to hold on for as long as you can...live for me as long as you
can...understand?"
	He rose off her and raised his knife.
	She saw it and knew it was the same one he'd used on Larissa.
	"Hold on for me and give me pleasure, scumbag..." he said softly.
	"You're mine, now...mine..."
	"...y-youhrzz..." she groaned. "...a-ahm...y-youhrz..."
	Blood spilled from her lips.
	"That's right," he whispered.
	He brought the blade to her bleeding mutilated tit.
	"That's right...."
	Slowly and carefully he began to slice her big pap from her chest.
	He cut a gash deep into tit-meat then began a slow circular sawing motion,
de-breasting the young college girl as she sobbed and whined on the table.
	She brought her arms up weakly.
	"Keep your hands at your sides, pig," he ordered. "On the table."
	She obeyed instantly.
	He sliced slowly, slowly, hurting her, looking into her eyes as he finally
lifted the half pound of pierced welted tit-meat from her and dropped it to the floor.
	Concentrating completely on his task he began to work on her remaining
boob.  He licked and nibbled at the nipple-less tip, sucking blood into his mouth.
	He pushed the tip of his knife into the meat-bag wounding her repeatedly
until her arms began to rise protectively.
	"On the table, cunt," he snarled.
	Again, obedience.
	This was what he had planned for Kathie's big tits all along, he thought,
smiling as he began the slow circular sawing through gland and muscle. This, and
what would follow later... Blood spurted on his hands. His college girl was sobbing,
her head moving from side to side.  This was the punishment he most enjoyed...the
mutilation of the female body...the  total destruction of its beauty. And by this time,
they always gave in...gave up...gave him what he wanted...surrendered to him.  They
let themselves be butchered because deep down they knew that this was their best
and most real purpose as females...to serve the hungry male with their suffering and
blood. To please Him.
	He had killed her best friends, butchered them both in front of her and she
had never even struggled against him in any way.
	From the beginning Kathie Daniels had been his for the taking.
	Because Dan the Knife Man knew that deep down all young women were
nothing but slaughter-whores. The prettier and sexier they were, the more they
needed to die, to please the savage manly greed for female suffering.  And Kathie,
so far, had been one of the best kills he'd ever had.
	He completed the circular cut, lifted her fat breast up in his hand and showed
it to her.
	"When you're dead I will eat them," he said and dropped the tit to the floor
beside the other one. It landed with a splat.
	Her eyes were going out of focus.
	Her blood puddled around his knees.
	"Ready?" he asked.
	She nodded slowly as he leaned over her, one hand on the table above her
head. He put the knife to her throat.	
	He pushed the tip, only the sharp tip into the pulsing jugular, fucking the
arterial vessel with his weapon. He pulled the knife out and the small wound 
spurted hot bloodjets up into his chest and face.
	"Yeahh..." he moaned, putting his cock up to her swollen bleeding pussy slit,
pushing up into her as he raised the knife high and slammed the blade-tip
down into the middle of her chest.
	She gave out a sharp keening howl then and almost rose off the table.
	He pushed her back down with his free hand on her shoulder.
	"Easy," he said. "Don't fight it..."
	Again her head moved from side to side, her arms now holding the table,
her nails scratching into the wooden surface.
	He fucked her with slow pumping motions of his hips as he drew the sharp
knife downward opening her up.
	"...aahhrgghhh..." she grunted. "...kill me...kill me...kill me..."
	"Whore," he snarled. "Pig. Slut. Scumbag."
	He cut her belly open and her legs twitched and kicked, her neck and back
arched.
	"Die for me, pig. Die."
	Then he thought of all the sluts out in the world, all the young pretty females
waiting for his knife...all the little bitches he would kill and cut open just like
this...that right now had no clue. Just as Kathie had had no clue. Going about their
ordinary lives.  Looking for men who would fawn all over them and give them
what they asked for in return for nothing but a look or a smile.
	He cut her stomach open all the way down to the bottom and her blood
flowed and pulsed around his pumping cock-shaft.
	He was ending her life now, ripping apart a womb that would have
probably carried new life, ending all hopes and aspirations, destroying the
living fabric of society, and he was enjoying every last fucking minute of it.
	He put the knife down and reached into her to find her uterus
and her fallopian tubes, feeling around inside her, finding and feeling the hardness of
his prick as it entered deep into her then getting his hands around her innards to
yank them out of her slowly, making her scream and shudder, tearing her life out of
her one piece at a time as she sobbed, her cries weaker and weaker.
	She gasped and then trembled her eyes going glassy as she looked up at the
hanging light-bulb.
	He slid out of her, got off the table and picked up the camera.
	He moved all around the dying, gutted bitch on the torture table taking
pictures from every angle, the flash snapping over and over.
	Then he picked up the axe.
	"...ahgh..." she groaned.
	He couldn't believe she was still alive.
	"Good girl," he snarled lifting the sharp-blade high above his head.
	"Hold on for me...give me pleasure, whore..."
	The axe came down with a brutal thud.
	He sliced her pretty foot off her leg.
	She turned her face to look up at him.
	He cut the leg from the thigh.
	"Yeahh!" he shouted raising the ax.
	Her mouth was wide and bleeding, moving as if to form words.
	He struck again burying the axe in her thigh.
	"Feel it, pig! FEEL IT!"
	He pulled the ax free and took aim.
	Her hands still clung weakly to the table.
	"You're mine." he snarled.
	"MINE."
	... and he brought the axe down on her long slender neck.
	Kathie's head sprung free of her body and rolled off the torture table to fall
to the floor between her amputated tits. Her headless body twitched, arms
rising as if to embrace the air, broken legs kicking out and it swung over on its side,
spilling guts and shit and piss to finally lie still, the arms collapsing.
	Dan dropped the axe and bent down to pick up the dead girl's head by the
hair.
	He held it so that her face was level with his cock as he jerked off and with a
fierce ape-like grunt he finally came, emptying his balls on the bloody
face of the murdered college-girl, rubbing the spurting crown of his prick against
her swollen lips and half-open unseeing eyes.
	Dropping the decapitated head to the floor at his feet he gave out a long
triumphant shout and sank back into the easy chair exhausted.
	Afterwards he would step out into the cool dawn to hose the female's blood
and guts off his body before going back into the bedroom to sleep, deeply and
dreamlessly. The next day, in the afternoon, he would rise and clean up the mess in
the torture room. He would drive out to the end of the road where the large oak
stood and bury Kathie's remains (save for her mutilated breasts) near her two
friends. That night he would fry Kathie's twin mounds of pink girl-flesh he'd kept in
the refrigerator on the hissing skillet with onions and white wine and, just as he'd
promised his dying victim, for the first time in his life, he would feast on female
slaughter meat.
	Some time later he would pack everything of consequence up in the
Cherokee and set the farmhouse on fire. He would start up the truck and move
toward state highway 143.
	By the time smoke was seen in the distance he would be miles away, on the
Interstate.
	By the time the fire was out he would be out of Florida, the taste of his kill
still on his lips.
	A month later the posters of Larissa Petersen, Donna Riley and Kathie
Daniels would be posted on the wall of the Cedarville movieplex in the mall.


WOODBURN 













	
















	



















	
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