Fifty Shades of Truth

The awful truth comes out...

BOTH

“Well, this should certainly be interesting,” Kari said as I looked down at the machine.  We were standing in her dungeon, both of us dressed in our usual attire.  For Kari, that meant black, skin tight leather pants accompanied by a black leather vest that conformed to her bosom and waist.  I’ve always loved that outfit on her.  It’s sexy, sleek, and just screams “dominatrix.”  I on the other hand, was wearing an expensive set of bondage cuffs on my wrists and ankles, as well as the thick leather collar that matched.  My outfit screamed only one thing and it screamed it loud and clear.

            I’m a nympho humiliation pain slut.

            I suppose I don’t mind really, because I happen to be a nympho humiliation pain slut, but the accompanying outfit can sometimes be a bit drafty.  Fortunately, Kari keeps the temperature in her apartment at a balmy seventy eight degrees, which most people would think a little warm.  You have to take into consideration the fact that most of the other people who hang around Kari’s place, do so naked. 

            Like Robert.  He was naked.  And bound and gagged on the other side of the dungeon.  As Kari’s permanent live in boy toy and sexual submissive, he spent practically the whole day, every day, wearing his birthday suit.  This was often accompanied by a cock harness of some sort, but I liked the fact that he wandered around the condo in as much sexual desperation as I did.  Of course while he wore a harness that invariably kept him aroused and unable to either touch himself or relieve the pressure, I had to follow nympho humiliation pain slut rule number one, a tender little regulation that required me to keep either cock, or a sex toy of some sort, stuffed inside myself at all times.  You can just imagine the fun Kari has with that rule.

            But at that particular time, standing in Kari’s dungeon, I was empty and had been for about two minutes.  I had been wearing the triple vibroballs all morning, at various levels of vibration, in preparation for this particular evening.  Or perhaps it was just to torment me.  I hadn’t cum in over a week thanks to the normal processes that happen to a woman, so I was on edge.  Literally.  I bit my lip, looking down at the machine.

            You’re probably familiar with it if you’ve been reading my “Tales.”  It was the center piece of a little story called “Full Bore” and consists of a steel ring that used to be a stool.  The legs were shortened, the seat removed and then a sexually evil genius added what he called a “variable speed electric motor” and some gears.  These gears were attached to two rods which were mounted so that the crankshaft would literally cause them to move up and down by about seven inches.  Even more interesting was the fact that at the end of both of those rods, were mounted two dildos, one narrow and about five inches long, while the other one was a dark black monster that measured a full seven inches.

            Hell.  I’m surprised they didn’t vibrate too.

            I bent down with the bottle Kari handed me.  It was Stinging O, an oily concoction of my own devising that was two parts grape seed oil and much smaller parts cinnamon and pepper oil.  While providing slippery movement, it also irritated the sensitive flesh, in effect both cooling me and heating me up.  Think of a lighter version of Icy Hot, except if used internally won’t kill you.  I felt the tingle on my fingertips as I thoroughly coated both phallic probes and then, as per Kari’s orders, wiped the remnants of the oil onto both nipples.   Instantly the tips of my breasts started to tingle and harden and I straightened and looked up at her.

            “Well don’t just stand there,” she said with a grin.  “Sit down.”  She pointed at the dildos and I swallowed.  I looked over at Robert who was staring at me.  He had to be uncomfortable, strapped like that to the St. Andrew’s Cross.  His cock was locked in this strange steel and leather device that Kari had bought from some catalog and I’m absolutely positive that it prevented him from getting a hard on.  Or it would try to.  Maybe he’d be hurting more than me.

            Turning the appropriate direction, I straddled the stool and slowly lowered myself down.  I felt as if an entire swarm of butterflies were in my tummy and I was positive I was trembling.  I closed my eyes as I felt the seven inch dildo graze my labia and a judicious swinging of my hips slid the pre-lubricated phallus through my slit nicely.  That first touch felt good, but I was dreading the eminent penetration of my ass, not to mention the chemical intensity of the Stinging O.  I slipped down an inch, then a bit more, and felt the gently tapered tip of the anal probe at my rear.  Just as I started to work it in, sliding deeper down, the cool tingle of the cinnamon oil hit my pussy.  It caused me to clench, which tightened things up in my ass.  A distinct discomfort that could almost be called pain rolled up through me, but I took a deep breath, mastered that disquieting ache in my ass. 

            I sank lower as my legs began tiring from my squatting position and Kari watched in amusement as I attempted to prevent my rapid impalement on the double dildos.  Within a minute however my thighs and buttocks were resting on the ring of the stool and I was deeply and thoroughly stuffed, with the full length of both dildos deep inside me.  The moment I seemed settled, Kari moved into action.  My arms were lifted over my head and attached to the chain dangling from the ceiling.  My ankles were tugged upward, putting all my weight on the dildos and the stool rim.  The ankle cuffs were locked with binder clips to metal rings on the stool frame.  Velcro straps went around my thighs and calves.  And then, while she was down there, Kari turned the motor on to its lowest setting.

            Kari keeps one of those twist dial kitchen timers in her dungeon.  It looks decidedly out of place, as if some cook had a demented streak they never want you seeing.  Actually, it’s kind of funny, since Kari can’t cook.  Hell, microwaving popcorn is a challenge for her.  Want to know how she stays thin?  Guess.  Of course, she and Robert eat out all the time too.  I’m guessing four or five nights a week.  And she doesn’t even eat healthy!  I’ve always been jealous of her for that.  Me?  I’m thin, but that comes from working seven days a week on a farm and living with your parents who don’t exactly go and stock up on ding dongs every few days at the grocery store.  And I don’t exactly get a paycheck either, so it’s not like I go out all the time.  So I stay thin through a combination of hard work and starving.  Hey, it works.  Anyway, the timer was set for five minutes.

            The vaginal dildo almost slid out of my sex and started its upward return before the anal probe descended.  I’ve never asked how Mike the Hardware guy managed to make it so you could start full impaled, mostly because I’m sure it’s complicated, but I have to admit, it does make it easier.  The thrust and withdrawal was agonizingly slow.  I’d say maybe two thrusts every ten seconds.  So…  that would make it twelve thrusts a minute?  Of course, actually it’s twenty four thrusts, because one dildo would drive up into my sex, and then the anal probe would do the same thing.  So you can understand my sexual frustration.  It was slow agony.

            While I was enduring snail sex, Kari was busy.  She had rolled her little metal cart over and was fidgeting with the TENS Unit.  For those still not in the know, this device is a transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulator.  It does one thing.  Shock you.  Doctors and therapists use it to stimulate muscles and work out kinks and stuff.  Kari uses it to stimulate certain parts of my body (and occasionally Robert’s!)   It can also be used to punish a slave girl, depending on the settings.  It’s actually pretty cool.  See, you can set the pace, or number of times someone gets a jolt, and you can set the intensity of the jolt.

            Kari is an expert at the TENS Unit and without a word she set about plugging the damn thing in.  Black and red wires were jacked into little holes on the front and then Kari took great pleasure in attaching the wired clamps to my nipples.  The clamps were an addition.  Doctors don’t usually clamp their patients while using a TENS Unit.  Nor do they clamp the tips of their patients breasts.

            Unless their patient is me.  But that’s another story for another time.

            Kari tightened the pressure clamps just enough to ensure that they weren’t going to fall off.  I jiggled a little bit and sure enough, they were stuck.  Then Kari pulled out one of her newer toys, a toy I knew she had bought just for me.  It was a little suction vial, with the needed electrodes to attach to the TENS unit inside the vial.  Her finger touched my clit, rubbing some of the Stinging O and my secretions over the tender nub that was already swollen and sticking out.  She placed the vial over my clit and using one of those ball squeezy things, she sucked the air out of the vial and created a vacuum.  My clit was pulled into the glass and came in direct contact with both electrodes.  Having my clit sucked into a glass vial wasn’t uncomfortable actually. It felt good.  Arousing even.  But my brain KNEW what was coming and that just made me even MORE aroused.

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be read in Breanne Erickson's e-book anthology "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut" Volume 6. 

 

Also, check out the BreanneApedia for all things Breanne!

 

Breanne Erickson is the author of "Coming of Age - A BDSM Romance" as well as the wildly popular series "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut".  If you enjoyed the above adventure, make sure to check out the rest of her her work at www.nymphohumiliationpainsluts.com!

Taken - Part Two : Michael Alexander

If you haven't read Part One yet, please click here.

Pruitt

“Dispatch to all units.  Possible kidnapping.  White female, sixteen years of age.  Name: Penny McPeek.  Blond over blue.  Weight, ninety four pounds.  Last seen in West Milford at five thirty wearing a yellow skirt and white tank top. Be on the lookout for a white Buick Regal, out of state LP for possible connection with missing girl.”

            Pruitt stiffened in his seat but then relaxed again.  It was only six thirty.  West Milford was on the northern end of the state, closer to New York than to Maryland.  Logan was a good three hours south of Milford and unless the guy was flying, there was no way for him to be this close yet.  But Pruitt dutifully noted the make and model of the car, as well as the girl’s information, just in case.  It was what a good officer does.  He took another bite of his sandwich and pulled out his map.  A lot depended on where the kidnapper was going. If he was heading toward New York, the most likely destination, he’d head south and then east.  Philadelphia was always a possibility, but Pruitt was too far south of both Trenton and Philly to make it likely he’d see the vehicle.  He sighed and slumped back in his seat, picking up his peanut butter sandwich again.

            In his mind it was tough not to see Amelia, broken, bloody, and defiled. 

Penny

It was dark, very dark.  Penny blinked her eyes several times, the dried tears that crusted her eyelids falling away.  Her brain moved sluggishly as she tried to figure out what was going on, the steady hum and occasional thump that filled the tiny compartment only adding to her confusion.  The first thing she realized was that something was in her mouth.  It was making her jaw ache.  Her tongue pressed against it, trying to push it out, but it was unmovable.  Then something else caught her attention; a sharp ache.  And there was a buzzing, a sort of vibration, and it was coming from…

            She jerked her legs as her mind suddenly grasped the reality.  Something was inside her and it was buzzing!  She tried to bring her arms forward and down, wanting to grasp at whatever was violating her.  But they wouldn’t respond.  She twitched, struggling as her nerves reported slowly to her brain.  Her arms were drawn behind her back, secured together with something sticky at wrist and elbow.  Her ankles and knees were in a similar bind and as her foggy mind began to understand, she bit down into the rubber ball gag and screamed silently.

            The adrenaline ran out a few minutes later and all she could show for it was aching limbs.  Her bonds were too strong for her to pull free.  Her thrashing had only barely revealed to her the extent of her imprisonment.  She was in a container only a few feet wide, curled in an almost fetal position.  The ceiling was mere inches above her, and the scent of oil, fuel, and rubber filled her nose.  The ball gag didn’t seal her mouth completely and a steady trickle of saliva dribbled down her cheek, aggravating her even more.  But it was the steady buzzing between her legs that drove her mad.

            She tried to ignore it, but whatever was stuck inside her sex was relentless.  She tried squeezing, but that only amplified the sensation.  She tried to ignore it.  Impossible.  And as her mind slowly became more attenuated to her predicament, the lack of sensory input about her situation made the vibrations seem that much more prevalent.  Soon her hips were thrusting back and forth involuntarily.  She had no idea why.  She tried to focus her thoughts.   Where was she?  What had happened?  She tried to think back to the last thing she remembered.

            Penny’s eyes widened as the impact of what had happened to her filled her mind with terror.  She had been kidnapped!  Where was he taking her?  What was he planning on doing to her?  She kicked out, a new surge of panic giving her strength.  She was even able to ignore the torment between her legs.  But as quickly as her strength returned, it disappeared again, and she was left sobbing.  It was the vibrations that brought her out of her misery.  Her loins ripened in a way she had never experienced before.  In moments she was gasping again, but this time with horrified pleasure.  Her hips bounced with renewed force and the vibrations inside her pushed her toward an edge she never knew existed.

            The orgasm was hard and solid and sent Penny spiraling out in relieved ecstasy.  She sagged, moaning softly as her body betrayed her, responding to whatever it was between her legs.  As the euphoria began to fade away, she felt the unwavering vibrations again, still swirling within her depths.  Once more her loins began twitching and she wondered what was happening to her.  She took a shuddering breath and tried to focus.  What was that humming noise? 

            “Wait!  I’m in the trunk!” her sluggish brain finally told her.  She kicked again, struggling to move around in the confined space.  A moment later however the car started to slow.  Freezing in terror, Penny held still, hoping that her antics in the trunk hadn’t caught the attention of her kidnapper.  The slow crunch of tires finally stilled and the car stopped.  There was a moment of silence and then she heard the car door open.  Her heart hammered in her chest as footsteps came around to the back of the car.  She tried to scream as the trunk lid opened.

            He was standing there, looking down at her, silent.  The only illumination was the tiny yellow light in the lid and it painted him in a demonic glow.  Her eyes locked on his, the fear palpable in the tiny space.  Even the ever present stimulation between her legs disappeared.  Suddenly she kicked at him, trying to catch him in the chest, but he easily deflected her movement with his arm.  She screamed into the gag, fury overloading her and she fought him as best she could as he reached into the trunk.  His hands found her tank top and began ripping.  She twisted away, but he slipped one hand between her arm and side, grabbing her. 

            “Here it comes,” she thought.  “He’s going to rape me!”  Her shirt was torn, exposing her bra.  Full curves filled the contents despite her youth and inexperience.  His hands scrabbled against her skin and hurt her as he yanked hard on the straps.  Finally something gave and her right breast was exposed.  The man yanked again, almost as if he was angry, and no amount of struggling prevented him from tearing the bra from her.  The tank top was ruined, nothing more than a piece of white cotton material around her waist.  The bra he tore from her was tossed to the road.  She was left wearing just her panties and skirt.  She realized that one shoe was missing.

            Penny cowered in fear as he pulled something dark from his pocket.  He reached in again, grabbing her hair, and pulling her face toward the edge of the trunk.  Whatever it was that he held in his hand came up and he placed it against her right breast.  A sharp pinch on her nipple sent pain rippling through her and she cried out, a sobbing scream against the rubber ball gag.  A second crushing bite on her other breast finished his ministrations and he dropped her back down to the bottom of the trunk.  Through her tears she looked down at herself.  A heavy metal chain was stretched between her breasts, attached to her nipples.  The pain of the clamps was almost unbearable.  She pulled on her wrist bonds with all her might, but nothing came loose.  She lifted her head up and then was practically blown back into unconsciousness as he slammed the trunk closed, bouncing it off her skull.  Penny was driven into the bottom of the trunk dazed and hurting, a flurry of stars in her eyes.

            The car started up again and Penny slowly moved again.  The horrible pain in her bosom had faded slightly into a ghastly throbbing that felt as if someone were hammering nails through her flesh.  The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the still constant trembling between her legs.  Already she could feel herself rising toward a pinnacle that she had not yet surmounted, her previous release being only a tiny foothill compared to what was coming.  At some point the pain in her breasts combined with the need between her legs and she cried as she felt herself forced into sexual expression.  She twisted violently, wishing to be rid of the feelings, not understanding why her brain and sex were so diametrically opposed to each other.  The orgasm came again, blasting her into oblivion as her hips rolled.  She stretched her legs out, pushing on the sides of the trunk, desperate in her sexual need.  Release was sweet, overwhelming her and sending her back into the darkness in sweet surrender, unwilling to fight it any longer.  She let out a shuddering breath as the adrenaline and endorphins faded and she was left with the pain and the hurt and the misery of her circumstances.  The clamps still chewed on her breasts.  Her arms were still bound behind her.  Her knees and ankles were still taped.  And inside her the demonic toy still purred, upsetting her equilibrium and bringing tears of shame to her young eyes.

Pruitt

            “Thank you ma'am for your cooperation.  You have fifteen days to contact the justice of peace and/or appear in court.  Here’s your driver’s license.  Please drive safely and keep your speed to the posted limit,” Pruitt said professionally.  He stood at the side of a white Honda Accord and handed the rather grumpy young woman her license.  The tags read New York and she had explained she was heading toward Washington, D.C., but Pruitt had stopped her for exceeding the speed limit by a good eighteen miles an hour.  Like most peace officers, he overlooked cars that were within ten miles an hour of the limit.  But eighteen was a bit more than acceptable.  The lady had been irritated with the interruption, but Pruitt consoled himself with the knowledge that she’d keep her speed down from then on, and most likely make it alive to her destination.

            He got back in his cruiser.  “Three twenty one to dispatch, ten-eight,” he enunciated carefully into his squad car’s radio.  The dispatcher acknowledged him just after he turned off his lights.  As he started to pull out into traffic, his radio squawked again, this time with information from his supervisor.

            “Three oh one to all units, be advised that SP units on 287 just south of Bridgewater report finding clothing believed to belong to the missing girl from West Milford.  All units need to be on the lookout for a white Buick, unknown model, with a white male driver, out of state LP.  He’s coming south, boys.  I want him.”

            Pruitt acknowledged when it was his turn and put the radio down.  He couldn’t imagine what they had found near Bridgewater, but it wasn’t a good thing.  Amelie had been found dumped in a vacant lot just outside of Philiadelphia, her torn and cut up body left naked so that dignity wouldn’t even  protect her from those that found her.  She had been arranged spread-eagled,  her rape a visible wound, dead staring eyes looking up with glassy precision.

            Pruitt closed his eyes and shoved the very thought of Amelie’s death out of his mind.  He had heard her screams often enough in his nightmares.  It did nothing for him to replay them during his waking hours.  Instead he focused on the southbound traffic, looking for a white classic Buick sedan.  Twenty minutes later, he saw one pass him, a white man in the driver’s seat.  He pulled out sharply, his mind not even really aware of the passage of time, and flicked on the blue and white lights.

Penny

            She was a riot of conflicting emotions as the car came to another stop.  Her breath caught in her throat and the mixture of pain and pleasure had turned her to jelly.  The constant sexual torment between her legs had taken its toll and she had suffered through multiple waves of release, her young and untried sex convulsing around the vibrating toy inside her.  Her throbbing nipples burned as any movement on her part caused the chain between them to pull in unexpected ways.  For a wild moment, she thought that perhaps a police officer had stopped the man and his car, and that she was about to be rescued. 

            But terror returned as the trunk lid opened.  The man with the narrow face and large glasses stood there, staring down at her.  Unlike the first time he had opened the trunk, lights danced behind him.  Penny blinked, trying to see where they were.  She contemplated sticking her head up, of fighting, and as she did, he reached in and grabbed hold of her legs, swinging them to the side.  Pain shot up through her shoulders and then her breasts as his fingers scrabbled at her waist.  As her skirt began to slide down her legs, she screamed into the gag and reared back, her feet coming up to kick him.  He deflected the movement completely, drawing her yellow skirt even farther down her body.  Her light pink panties scrunched with her movements, half off her bottom as she kicked again.  This time he slapped her ass hard.

            It stung, but it still wasn’t enough.  The next slap however came across the face and it stunned her.  She offered no further resistance as her skirt was taken.  She was barely conscious as the click of a lockblade knife hit her ears.  For a moment she was afraid he would cut her, but then the blade was slid between the cotton of her panties and the soft flesh of her hip.  He pulled and she heard tearing cloth.  The crotch of her panties bit into her sex, crushing the soft labia as he pulled and sawed at her underclothes.  Finally they tore and he yanked hard, leaving marks on her skin as he stripped her.  She aimed another kick, but it was no more effectual than the first.  He tossed aside her panties and then flipped her over.

            Penny screamed as she felt his fingers against her bottom.  He wasn’t slapping or spanking her.  Instead he grabbed her buttocks and spread them, probing her dark opening with his fingers.  She screamed, thrashing even as her breast were smashed against the floorboard of the trunk.  She heard him working behind her, another snap, and then something cool and oily was pressed against her anus.  

            He wasn’t gentle, but at least he allowed her a moment to prepare.  The glass dildo wasn’t driven in, only pushed with a steady pressure.  Even so, Penny still screamed, twisting her hips as if that would enable her to escape.  The chain between her breasts caught on something beneath her and she felt her nipples pulled taut.  Then the man pushed just a bit harder and the anal plug settled deeply into her ass, expanding upon the feeling of fullness she already was experiencing.  Then he picked up something from behind her.  The vibrations between her legs increased, moving toward a level that she absolutely feared.  Her sex tightened once again, but at the same time so did her bottom.  Her anus contracted around the plug and it hurt, even more than the clamps on her breasts.  The man backed away and slammed the trunk lid shut.  She sobbed even harder.  There was no comparison for the pain in her bottom.  She’d never experienced anything like it before.   And then there was the vibration, the horrible pulsation that kept her on edge and cumming over and over like some sort of sick sex doll.

            Her misery knew no bounds as her body fought with the awful sensations she was being subjected to.  Abject misery combined with humiliation, utter shame at her own weakness, her own body’s betrayal was almost more than she could handle psychologically.  She didn’t understand what was happening to her.  Everything hurt and all she wanted was for it to end. 

            The car began moving again and she huddled down.  Tears would have come but she was cried out and now only quietly sobbed in despair.  Her brain was too immolated in her position to contemplate what might be coming, or where she was being taken, and for what purpose.  All she knew was that she was lying naked in the trunk of a monster’s car and had been subjected to the most cruel and horrific violation she could imagine.  Even in exhaustion, her loins were pumping, shaking through the onslaught of sexual attention from the vibrator inside her. 

            Penny blinked in the darkness.  He had turned it up.  How had he done that?  She racked her mind back to the stop, to the limited light.  He had grabbed something, from behind her?  She began wiggling again, her bound arms questing.  She stretched, reaching down toward her bottom, but the bound elbows made it impossible for her to reach the base of the anal plug, much less whatever it was that had been stuck inside her sex.

            Finally she rolled, enduring the agonizing pull on her clamped and chained breasts, all in order to feel what she recognized as a wire wrapping around her legs.  Another turn, punctuated by muted cries of pain and an ever increasing tension between her thighs, brought a small rectangular box against the back of her leg.  With a cry of triumph, she rolled back and twisted, moving her body slowly until her fingertips finally found the remote.  Slowly she drew it into her hand and then with her thumb, turned the little wheel she felt on the side of the box.

            The vibrations slowed and as she spun it down farther they ended.  It was sweet success and Penny burst into a fresh set of tears as the relief hit her.  She still ached, her breasts and ass throbbing with the abuses laden upon them, but at least she had stilled the villainous sensations that threatened to unhinge her.  How could she enjoy any part of what was happening to her?  With the vibrations silenced, Penny was able to suffer properly, without feeling the guilt of her predicament.   Slowly, she drifted into sleep, her mind starting to block the pain.

Stay tuned for more...

Taken - Part One : Michael Alexander

Amelia

             She fought him, despite being bound.  Her entire body ached and the torments she had endured from the moment he had taken her had been beyond what she thought anyone, any human being, could inflict upon another.  Everything hurt and she had spent the last twenty four hours crammed into the trunk, sobbing, humiliated, hurting.  Her clothes were practically gone, cut from her petite frame in stages.  She could feel the bruises forming and she tried desperately to ignore the other sensations he had forced upon her.

            When the car stopped her heart started racing.  Each stop had brought further degradation and worse torment.  Her breasts throbbed painfully at the tips from the vicious metal clamps he had attached to her and the agony between her legs was nearly as bad.  Only the gentle, non-stop rumbling inside her made it tolerable.  Her tongue pushed against the ball gag that he had strapped around her head.  Unable to move it, she groaned and cried softly.

            The trunk lid popped open.  No light came on.  It had been broken long before.  She expected him to hurt her as he reached in, flinching from his touch.  What would he do to her next?  What horrible thing would touch her skin, pinch her, or tear her?  But instead he lifted her, his height and strength more than any girl could counter.  He dragged her out of the trunk and dropped her to the ground.

            Concrete bit into her knees and she fell over to the side, feeling the cold almost as soon as her legs reported the violent impact of her body against the unforgiving floor.  She blinked, looking around, and saw the walls of an empty warehouse, one the looked as if it hadn’t been used in years.  Rusty girders were barely visible overhead.  A few feet away, a long steel chain dangled downward, a metal hook at the end.

            He dragged her toward the hook, evidently not caring that the rough concrete scraped her legs raw.  Her ankles and wrists were bound, the former behind her back and he pulled her up into a standing position, under the chain, and hooked it through the plastic zip tie that secured her hands.  She had lost feeling in her fingers hours before, but as the clanking of the chain sounded in the semi-darkness, she felt her arms lifted and she was forced to bend over, pain shooting through her shoulders.

            His hands touched her, revulsion shooting through her as she cried out through the gag, only a muffled squeal reaching his ears.  He touched her bare shoulders, then moved his hands down to her full breasts.   He found the clamps and twisted them, sending even more pain through her, enough to rouse her fully and fight him.  She pulled away, not that it did any good, and excruciating agony blasted through her.  He opened the clamps and pulled them away.  The cuts from the sharpened metal teeth bled and not even the ball gag could keep her sobs of pure misery from echoing lightly through the warehouse.  He reached down to her loins, touching the light down of hair between her legs.  Forcing his fingers between her thighs, under the other metal clamp, he finally grabbed hold of the vibrator.  Pulling it out, he turned it off and dropped it on the floor. 

            He spun her around and she fell, held upright only by the chain and ligaments tore in her shoulders.  He didn’t care.  As she struggled to get her feet under herself again, he grabbed her hips from behind her and pulled her upright.  She screamed again as she felt his finger probing at her rear end.  He plucked the plug from her bottom without hesitation, removing the monstrous device without even closing it.  She could feel it tearing her and the burning pain actually made the hurt of her breast diminish.  There was a clatter as he tossed the metal plug downward.

            Then he raped her.   

 

            Anal sex was never something Amelia had thought of, nor been told, and the brutal degradation was more than she could bear.  His manhood speared her bottom and all she felt was agony.  The metal plug had hurt less.  His thrusts were brutal and his cock was lubricated with her blood.  She thrashed and screamed, her movement limited and her cries muted as he held her firmly.  And then when he finished, he pushed her away, once more putting her entire weight on her arms.  Red blossomed in Amelia’s eyes and she passed out.

            When she came too, it was the pain that hit her first.  Everything hurt and she could feel the blood dripping down her thighs.  She was still hanging from the hook as he walked up, a look of cold, impassive need in his face.  He pulled out a knife and she knew that there was nothing left for him to cut from her.  All hope died and she sucked in a breath through the tears and stared at him, knowing that her end had come.

 

 

Pruitt

            Jeff Pruitt sighed and scratched his head where the hat was bothering him.  He was on US Highway 295 outside of Logan running traffic and it had been a slow evening.  Ever since four that afternoon he’d watched the summer sun set off in the west, the dying light spreading across the well cultivated fields, spreading gold across the landscape.  Despite the regular traffic, Pruitt had caught only two speeders that late afternoon and as his cruiser sat on the slope of the hill just south of town, he pulled out the brown paper sack.  Every afternoon his wife made him lunch, her way of saying “I love you”, to her husband, and “be safe.”  He munched on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich quietly and watched the traffic.

            Pruitt had become a police officer four years before and he was a bit of a black sheep.  He remembered the scoffing looks of the senior officers during the interview board when he answered their question about why he wanted to be a police officer. 

            “To help people,” he had answered promptly and quite honestly, though that was only one of the reasons he wanted to become a cop.  One of the lieutenants seated across the table from him actually laughed scornfully. 

            “You realize that’s not what police do, right?” the man had asked.

            Pruitt had blinked.  He had thought, and still did, that helping people was exactly what the police do.  His whole life he had wanted to be a police officer.  When he was a boy he had joined scouts, gotten his Eagle Rank at sixteen, and then moved to a Law Enforcement Explorer post.  To him, becoming a police officer was the merely the next step up in the process.  He had been taught from an early age that a police officer would help him if he was in trouble.  Wasn’t their motto “to protect and serve?”  Unfortunately that desire had turned into something darker and more pressing during his senior year of high school.

            “I don’t understand,” Pruitt had responded, looking at the police lieutenant.

            “We don’t help people, Mr. Pruitt.  We are a negative force in people’s lives.  Most citizens, when they encounter a police officer, are in a off-putting situation.  Chances are we’ve stopped them for speeding.   If they’re calling you to report a crime, chances are they have been victimized and there won’t be that much you can do to help them besides take a report.  Or there has been a traffic accident and you’re giving them a ticket.  We don’t help people,” the police lieutenant had told him.

            Pruitt had looked at the man.  “But I believe catching speeders does help people, sir.  By not speeding, the road is safer, and so we’ve ‘helped’ the other citizens avoid danger.  If I take a report, and that report results in an arrest at a later date, then we’ve still helped that citizen. “

            “This isn’t the Boy Scouts, Mr. Pruitt.  You don’t get a merit badge for crossing the street.”

            Pruitt had nodded. “I’m aware of that, sir.”

            “Or is this about your sister?” the cop had asked.

            Pruitt stiffened and took a deep breath.  He had known that this question would come up. It’s not often the brother of a rape and murder victim chooses to become a law enforcement officer, especially a victim who was as beautiful as Pruitt’s sister, Amelia.  She had been the darling of the press for a full two weeks while the investigation into her abduction had raged on.

            “Sir, I’m not doing this because I want revenge.  If we ever catch the man who kidnapped Amelia I hope that he is tried to the full extent of the law and then spends his entire life in prison.”

            The lieutenant interrupted.  “You don’t want him dead?”

            Pruitt shook his head.  “No.  I know that the death penalty doesn’t deter crime, nor is it justified for the expenditure compared to life in prison.  But for me, making sure this person is locked up, without hope of getting out, of having a cheeseburger, or a decent steak, of spending the rest of their natural life in a cage, suffering that hell before going to meet God and answer for my sister’s death, holds much appeal.  I couldn’t be there for Amelia.  Perhaps as a New Jersey State Police Officer, I can be there for someone else.”

            He suspected that it was that answer that had caused the review board to accept his application into the New Jersey State Police Academy and eventually to wearing the gunmetal blue uniform of a New Jersey State Police Officer.  It had taken twenty five weeks to finish academy, and when he had finally donned that uniform with the gold triangles he had felt as if he were ready.  But police academy was nothing like the real work.  He had been taken under the wing of a seasoned officer and taught that the way things were presented at academy wasn’t the way things worked in real life. 

            He had taken flack a few months after getting out on his own when he had arrested a man for running a stop sign.  Usually, such a violation only resulted in a ticket, but when Pruitt had made contact with the driver, the stench of marijuana filled the car.  A quick check with police dispatch had revealed that the K-9 unit was unavailable.  Sure, Pruitt could have used the scent of marijuana as probable cause for a search, but what if the man had smoked all of it?  No pot, just the smoke.  So Pruitt arrested the guy and then in the process of getting ready to have the man’s car towed, he did a “search subsequent to an arrest.”  Surprise, surprise, he found a gallon bag filled with “a green leafy substance” that turned out to be enough marijuana to keep three hard core junkie in weed for two or three weeks.  But what had the paper reported?  That Officer Pruitt had arrested a man for running a stop sign.  It hadn’t been a good day for the New Jersey State Police when the paper in Trenton had run that story.

            Officer Pruitt had been assigned to US 295, rather than the turnpike, an action that he saw as punishment for being unconventional.  It was a lesser route, one that still needed an officer patrolling, but didn’t have the same amount of traffic as the turnpike just a few miles to his east.  He sat there, eating his sandwich, wishing something would happen.  He had no idea that a hundred miles to his north, something already was.

Penny

            Over a hundred miles away from Jeff Pruitt, just northeast of a small town called West Milford, Penny McPeek was stepping out into the evening darkness.  Her blond hair curled down to her shoulders and her tennis shoes crunched on the rocks of Ms. Vaneck’s driveway. 

“Bye Penny!  See you next week! Work on those arpeggios!”  Mrs. Vaneck called, waving from the porch.  Penny smiled and waved back, her piano music clutched to her chest.  Her mind filled with the evening’s lesson, she started down the road toward her house.  It was only a half mile away and she felt comfortable, even in the gathering darkness.  Technically she lived in West Milford, but her home was near Green Turtle Lake, off of Awosting Road, in what her mother called the “boonies.”  The late summer air was starting to cool and she felt slightly chilled in the blue skirt and white tank top that she was wearing.   Goosebumps appeared on her arms and she quickened her pace.  Summer was winding down and already flocks of starlings were starting to roost in the trees at the side of the road.  She didn’t have far to go.  She and her parents lived only a few houses up the street from Mrs. Vaneck’s place.  She walked up the road, thick green foliage on each side, and stopped when she saw the car.  It was an off-white color and looked relatively old.  Oddly enough, it was stopped in the middle of the road and there was a man standing at the trunk.  As she got closer, he glanced up.  His hands were deep in the trunk.   He jerked back from her as she approached him from behind.

            “Oh!  I’m sorry! You startled me!” the man said softly as she came into view.  He was tall, over six feet, and towered above Penny. Thick glasses rimmed his eyes and he had a narrow face. He smiled warmly.  “I didn’t realize anyone was behind me.”

            Penny nodded.  “That’s okay.  I didn’t mean to scare you,” she replied politely.

            The man smiled and sighed.  “Well, it’s been that sort of day.”

            Penny looked at the car.  She noticed a jack on the ground beside the back left wheel, but the wheel looked fine.   Evidently he had already changed it.  “Is everything alright?  Do you need help?  My parents live just down the road and my dad could give you a hand.”

            The man shook his head.  “No.  At least I don’t need help now.  But do you happen to know where Greenwood Lake is from here? I’m supposed to be meeting a friend this evening for dinner and I got turned around.”

            Penny laughed.  She had heard her mother and father complaining about the lack of signs along the Greenwood Lake Turnpike.  Her head bobbed up and down.  “Sure.  All you need to do is head back north to Awosting and then take a left.  If you continue northwest you’ll get to the lake.”

            The man glanced down the road and then lifted his arm, pointing. “You mean that way?” he said, motioning in a northeasterly direction.   Penny took a step closer and glanced the way he was pointing. 

            “No, not quite that way,” she said.  “The road curves around.  You have to turn left at Awosting you see.”

            He moved fast, faster than she could believe.  His right hand came out of the trunk clutching a foul smelling rag of some sort and he smacked it over her nose and mouth with ease.  She screamed, but all that came out was a muffled cry that could have been a whip-poor-will in the darkness.  She thrashed against him, but his left arm had wrapped around her.  She tried to suck in a breath, but the fumes of the rag caused her to cough.  Suddenly she felt weak, as if her body was going numb.  She tried to kick him and dropped her music books on the asphalt.  She blinked, trying to understand what was happening, why her body wasn’t responding anymore.  Then her vision began to darken and she slumped in the man’s arms.

            Darkness reigned.  He put her in the trunk.

Stay tuned for Part Two