From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl) Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories Subject: CODY: MY KIND OF TOWN PART 1 The following story, in two parts, is the property of Mask Operating System (tm), and all rights are reserved. All matter which might be offensive to minors or Christian American values has been rigorously excised. MY KIND OF TOWN. I DON'T THINK SO. PART 1 "And how will you make them (his fantasies) real? How will I know that you have lived what you wrote? Sweated, bled, screamed? Mithryl was used for armor; how do you make yourself vulnerable?" -- email * The inflight movie had been a bummer. I mean, really! Airplanes have become extrusion tubes for force feeding pate videos de Disney about cute kids and jerk off adults. You don't even get a choice. This one -- I already couldn't remember the name of it -- had had the extra attraction of Al Bundy, the guy who plays Al Bundy, as the heavy, an Al Bundy type character, who coaches a football team -- what else? -- of junior high school post-poob jocks. Their opponents, the main characters, were a collection of hopelessly cute rejects who wanted, against all reason, to play football. God, I hate cute. I spent most of the flight trying, not very successfully, not to watch. Well, I mean, they really shove it in your face. It's not like you can go out for a smoke. The main suspense had been whether the film would get finished before the plane landed at Logan. In fact, it wouldn't have if they hadn't fast forwarded it to the big game, which, of course, Bundy's team lost to the losers. I could have gagged. It was so pathetic. I have to admit it served one purpose, which was to take some of the edge off my nerves. I don't know whether or not I appreciate that, because, after all, what I was going through at the moment was an integral aspect of the trip. But I think if I had been keyed up any more, they would have had to restrain me. As it was, I kept having sudden panic attacks each time I remembered that I had been momentarily distracted from awareness of the fact I was flying half way across the country to meet a man who was going to beat me up and rape me. Staring out the window, I thought about how in a few minutes I would be turning myself over to a total stranger. This was the first time I had tried something like this. It had been on my mind for a long time. Gnawing at me. Prodding me. I had met h im on the internet. We had exchanged stories. Like dozens of other people who wrote to me, he wanted to meet me in person. Of course, I always said no. I wouldn't even give out my phone number. This was, I always excused myself, because I had made a solemn vow to my shrink that I wouldn't before consulting with her. But after a year of exchanging stories, I realized that I wanted something more. Finally, when this guy Bill invited me to come to his home near Chicago for a long weekend, I agreed. He paid for the ticket. I didn't tell Liz. And, in fact, I hadn't told anyone where I was going. Not even my friend, Kelly. I was almost unconscious that the plane had actually landed, and that we were at the terminal. An aisle full of people scrambling for their overhead luggage brought me out of my fog. "Okay," I thought, "this is it." But was it? I could still back out. He didn't know what I looked like. Well, he did. He knew I was five foot seven, with long curly red hair and green eyes. He knew I was nineteen years old. I told him 19, because they tend to freak out if they find out your real age. He was already facing twenty years the minute he said hello. I didn't want to scare him further. I was carrying a small bag. The stuff I wear doesn't take up a lot of space. Most of it was cosmetics. And boots. Once I got in th e terminal, I wondered how I was going to find him. I never pay much attention to how men describe themselves. They are mostly all faceless, anyway. For all I knew, he could actually look like Al Bundy. Boy, would that be a turnoff. I hate that show. In New York, persons without tickets aren't allowed in the boarding areas. I assumed the same applied here. It was my first time in Chicago. I knew nothing about it, except the poem. You know, the one about the city with the big whatsit. We had to read it in school, and of course everyone changed the big part to you know what. It was by someone named Samson. A number of people were standing around the foot of the escalator, holding up signs. One said "CODY". Oh God. I nearly shit. I still had time, I thought, to duck out. I could just keep walking. Pretend I didn't see it. It wasn't me. Get in a cab. Go around the block and get on a plane for New York. But just then we made eye contact, and I knew I was stuck. Not that it was that hard to spot me. I guess you could say I make a specialty of being easy to notice. In fact, I was suddenly aware that a dress you might think of as casual in New York was grossly inappropriate in Chicago. Ever since I had gotten off the plane people had been staring at me. Well, I'm used to that, but this was gross. You'd have thought I had escaped from a zoo. I knew it wasn't my tits, because I was wearing a blue dyed fur jacket. It turned out to be because my dress didn't quite make it to the tops of my stockings. I mean, big deal. Okay, it didn't even make it to my crotch, but it was a cute little Anna Sui blue slip dress, and it molded to every curve of my body. The guy looked a little shocked. "Hi. Bill?" "Hello. Welcome to Chicago." He was stocky. Heavy set. With big hands. We stood there looking at each other. He took my bag. "Thanks." So this was it. "Any other luggage?" "Uh, No. Just this." "Glad you could make it." "Yeah. I'm glad to be here." I looked at him. He looked back. I was also wearing a dog collar with a ring in it. One scenario might have been for him to hook a leash to it and lead me out of the airport. But this was Chicago. "Have a good flight?" "The movie sucked," I said. I started to complain about being forced to look at movies I don't want to see. He said the car was in the parking lot. "Yeah. Yeah. I can't stand them either." Somehow we got to the car, and started for his house. He had said he lived in a place called North Paxton or Packwood. I had no idea where that was. "Ever been to Chicago?" "No. First time." "I love your stories." "Thanks. Your's are pretty good, too." Well, he tried. Actually, what made his stories interesting was they were totally sick. The fact that he couldn't write just made them all the more brutal. I love men like that. I'm an empath -- did I mention that -- and I get totally off on everything anyone writes to me. Like it's really happening. To me. Inside me. The brutality in his pieces was the main reason I had chosen to accept his invitation among all the others. I mean, if you're going to do it, why not go for the best? I didn't wan t to end up with a wimp who thought spanking was extreme sadism. Bill was pointing out different landmarks of interest as we went by. I turned sideways so I could face him, sliding one leg up under the other. He glanced at my exposed panties. They wer e sheer black nylon that did nothing to conceal my thick mat of crotch hair curling out on either side. Without saying anything, he shifted his gaze back to the road. "I brought the story." It was a piece I had worked together from his stuff and some other people. Bill had said he would only read it if I hand delivered it. "Oh yeah? I'd like to read it." I began to think about some of the things he talked about doing to me. "Wham! My fist slams into your gut," he wrote at the beginning, "This ain't sexual, it's just mean right now. You feel your breath leave you, you dry heave for a few minutes. Just as you start to recover, just as you start to draw your first breath, I hit you again in the gut, only this time about five times harder. You feel like a fucking freight train just hit you. Lights dance before your eyes, and you feel your head getting light. The last thing you remember is my fist coming straight to your pretty little model face." See what I mean about brutal? It gets better. "I see your tits are just starting to stand up. Good, now where are those needles I had... Oh yeah, here. Slowly, slowly, I push one into the right nipple. The other side of the flesh there stretches a lot until finally the tip just starts to show, t hen it goes through easily. I like the sounds you're making. Now another one, at right angles, and a little deeper under it." And so forth. It was hard to believe that the time was coming closer and closer when he was actually going to do some of that stuff to me. The thought gave me shivers. I had to squeeze my legs together because I was getting horny. I wondered if he fe lt anything like I did. He didn't look especially brutal. In fact, he looked kinda ordinary. I guessed somewhere in his forties. The generic middle American. I tried to remember what he had said about himself -- not in the stories, real life. What passes for it. I seemed to recall something about a wife. Oh yeah, the chick in the airliner. He had balled a chick in an airplane restroom one night while his wife was asleep. Chalk one up for Mr. Scuzz. What else? They had a hot tub. Or was that the guy in Dallas? He and his wife wanted me to come down. They'd pay my way. It occurred to me that I could see a lot of the world this way. I wondered if it was legal. The drive took about an hour. The house was on a street with others, all on big lots. It was the sort of neighborhood that made you wish you were black. Naomi Campbell walking up the driveway for afternoon delight. Wouldn't that cause a sensation? He took my bag out of the trunk and we went inside. "Well, this is it," he said, setting the bag down. We were in the living room. I said it was very nice. You don't really want me to describe it, do you? If you have a computer and live in middle Amer ica, you're probably already looking at it. Right? "Thanks. My wife made the curtains." Okay. That's enough. He said she'd be home about six. Would I like a beer? Or a drink? Or would I like to freshen up? He showed me the guest room. And the bathroom. I had to pee. He said he'd be downstairs. I fixed my makeup and went downstairs. Again, he offered me refreshments. He showed me the back yard and the screened in porch. And told me how much they had paid for it, and how long they had lived there. I realized we were making conversation. I asked for a diet Coke. He got me a Pepsi. I wondered if he'd freak if I smoked a joint. It was too cold to sit on the porch. I had taken off my jacket. The dress was pretty low cut, and I know that Kelly has told you how big I am. So okay, I was practically hanging out in it. Even in New York people stare. He glanced at me, and looked away. I asked if he had any children. He said his son was at his grandmother's. Oh? And their daughter was staying at a friend's house for the weekend. That's ni ce. She was a cheerleader. I could have figured. The girl in the movie was as pretty as a cheerleader. But she wanted to play football. She hadn't been much older than me. She was the nerdy coach's daughter. She scored the winning touchdown against the jocks. She was just starting to get interested in boys. At one point she decides to become a cheerleader to attract the attention of the team hunk, but when the moment comes, she does the right thing and puts on a uniform. So gross. Not even spandex. Bill and I talked about the weather. I had come all the way to Chicago for this? To tell you the truth, I wasn't in any hurry. Neither was he. He asked did I go to school. I had already told him I worked for a mag. Not which one. That would be a big no no. But he could guess. Or at least narrow it down to three. He said he didn't know much about fashion, but he knew what he liked. He looked at me. I felt a little self conscious. Okay, I was sort of exposed, but I mean, I'm not like a tramp. That stuff I write about on the net, that's fantasy. It's not really me. We talked about his computer. He had all the latest stuff. Then I remembered our story. I went and got it for hi m. He was reading it when a car drove up in the driveway and a door slammed. "That's my wife." I heard someone in the kitchen, and then this woman walked in. Grace was maybe forty. Blonde hair. Nothing special. She looked like someone's mom. "You must be Cody," she said, as if she was welcoming her son's girl friend. "How pretty you look." "Uh, thanks." "And so young." Uh oh. I wondered if she was going to make a stink. But she didn't. Just looked me up and down. How old did I say I was? I said nineteen. She let it go. Instead, she asked if Bill had offered me a drink. I said yes. She needed one. She said she thought they'd order out tonight. I didn't mind, did I? She hated to cook on Fridays. "uh, no. fine." How about pizza? "uh, fine." What did I want on it ? The Groveners would be over later. Who? The Groveners. Ham and Ella. We told them all about you. "oh." I looked at Bill. He said he forgot to tell me. He'd invited a few friends to meet me. I didn't mind, did I? To tell you the truth, it took a little bit to get used to. I hadn't counted on this. But I said no. Fine. The more the merrier. Bill went on reading my manuscript. In the original story, we had met in a bar, and I had been snotty to him. "It had been in a bar, after work. I had met Kelly there. He had been with her. Some stupid thug she had picked up at the place where she table dances. I don't know if she said his name. I probably forgot it. He was definitely not my kind of person . I was wearing a white Calvin Klein suit. The skirt was pretty short. And it slid up, exposing the tops of my stockings when I slid up on the bar stool, but that was no reason for him to come on to me that way. I told him to keep his hands to himself. "I didn't like the way he looked at me. The way he kept eyeing me up, staring at my breasts. Under the jacket, I was wearing a sheer black blouse. It was almost see through, and it was unbuttoned enough to show a lot of cleavage. I got big early. I was already in the high thirties when I was thirteen. But my mother thought I should be bigger. She took me to this doctor in Maryland who gave me the pills. My tits mushroomed. A lot of men get the wrong idea. Just because a girl has huge tits, they think she's a whore. Of course, the pills had the side effect of making me horny as hell. But I try to control it. Just having someone look at my breasts can make me start to run. I had to cross my legs, which exposed a wide expanse of creamy white thigh. Nervously, I jerked my skirt down. "I squirmed on the barstool, wishing the guy would stop staring. I just wanted to get out of there. When the guy reached over and put his hand in under my jacket and lifted up my left hooter, I exploded. And slapped his face. Kelly giggle Later, he came to my apartment. I decided to change. While Grace ordered pizza, I went up to my room. I had a black fishnet leotard with bare arms and a t-neck. You could see everything through it. And it pulled up tight into my crotch, separating my labia. With it, I wore a black tube skirt and a black silk shirt tucked in and unbuttoned. I fixed my makeup again and stood back to look at myself in the mirror. I looked fantastic. My long hair cascaded in long loose curls over my shoulders. I put on long glittering earrings and the dog collar. And short black leather gloves. And a pair of high heeled black boots. They came up to my thighs. Around my waist, I strapped a wide leather belt that cinched me tight, separating my hips and rib cage. Bill glanced at me as I came downstairs. "The pizza 's here. What'd you order? Anchovies?" His had pepperoni. Grace had everything. We sat at the counter between the living room and kitchen and talked. They said I'd like the Groveners. "uh, yeah?" They were a lot of fun. Bill rested his elbow on the manscript. I wondered if he showed his writings to his wife. I wondered if she knew about the scene in the airplane. That might be interesting to find out. I wondered where they kept the hot tub. It wasn't on the porch. Bill had said they had a game room. Maybe it was down there. Okay, I thought, what's happening? Grace had a martini. I think it was her fourth or fifth. She was starting to get belligerent. I hadn't thought about this. I mean, I had come to Chicago just to get beat up and raped. An abusive alcoholic housewife I hadn't counted on. "So, Cody, what's it like being a whore?" "I'm not a whore." "Sure you are. Isn't she Bill?" "Yes, Grace." He said it sort of as a joke. I looked at him. "Cody's a real stinking whore. Aren't you slut?" "No." To tell you the truth, I was embarrassed. She had seemed so nice and friendly at first. Now she was being so mean. I asked her about her kids. She said they were away for the weekend. I tried to think of something else to say. I asked what she did. She was a secretary. They couldn't put their kids through school on what he made. She meant Bill. Bill leaned his elbows on the counter. The Groveners arrived. Then we sat around the living room. They all had drinks. I had another diet Pepsi. It was only eight o'clock. I thought, my God, how am I going to get through this? They were so boring. I would have given my virginity if even Al Bundy had walked in to the room. Anyone. Rescue me. Pleassssse! It went on til past nine. They talked about a girl who had been raped at their daughter's school. I sat on the arm of a chair, one leg bent up, and watched them. Ham and Ella were both in their late thirties. She was thick set with bangs. Ham was skinny. They said the girl asked for it. Sure. Right. Tell me something I don't know. Bill had sank into a deep morose state. They didn't pay much attention to me. It was almost like I wasn't there. Maybe, I thought, it's the costume. Maybe it's too much. Some people can't handle high fashion. Maybe if I dressed up as a cheerleader -- their daughter was a cheerleader -- maybe they could relate to that. From time to time, Grace would pass me, and run a friendly hand over my shoulder or down my back. Okay, I thought, she may be lez. Then the others started doing it. Whenever they'd get up to take a pee, I'd feel this hand gliding over me or touching my hair. It would stay there a little, and then be gone. They seemed to be closing in. I glanced around. They were all smiling at me. I decided I had to go to the bathroom. While I was there, I smoked a joint. When I came back, Ella asked if I had had a nice pee. "uh, yeah. Thanks." I also noticed they made a number of remarks. Ella asked if I had to have my bras specially made. Grace asked how she knew Cody wore a bra. They both laughed like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. She also wanted to know if I got paid a lot as a callgirl. I said I wasn't a callgirl. "You could have fooled me." She read some of the things I wrote. Gradually, they were becoming aware that I was totally available. Ella said she'd be ashamed to have tits as big as mine. They must be pretty heavy. I said she didn't have to worry. She asked what I meant by that. I said nothing. Then Grace tried to get friendly. She riffled my hair. "Cody's so pretty, isn't she?" I pulled back. She slapped me. "Don't pull away from me, bitch." I started to say something and she slapped me hard across the mouth. "Oooowwwwww." My head snapped sideways. She cut me with her ring. "Hey!" I jumped up. The next thing I knew, the two men were holding me by the arms. "Hey, what's up?" Grace walked up to me and punched me in the belly. Aaagggh And then again in the face. I tried to struggle. Bill and Ham slammed me up against the wall, and twisted my arms behind my back. I could feel my tits squashing against the cheap paneling. Then they dumped me into a big armchair. "Just sit there, bitch," Bill said. I glared up at him. My skirt had slid up, and I tried to adjust it. Was this it? What they intended to do? How lame. They were a bunch of lamers. Midwest hicks. Then I saw th e look on their faces and I wasn't so sure. "I don't want her up here," Grace said. "Take her down to the basement." The men picked me up. I struggled all the way. My shirt had been pulled open, exposing my breasts under the black mesh. They took me to the top of the cellar stairs and threw me. I twisted and somersaulted all the way down, slamming my head on the steps. The four of them came downstairs and stood around me. I was half unconscious. "uuuuo. please don't." What Bill did to me in those stories was nothing compared to what those mothers did to me the next two days. By the time they put me on the red-eye Monday morning, I had been totally destroyed. I was thoroughly defeated. I couldn't believe that any Am erican teenager could be made to feel so dirty and depraved as I was. They demonstrated it over and over again. They made child molesting defensible by comparison. I won't bore you with the details. You have to understand that real torture is not exciting. It is not even sexy. In fact, it has nothing to do with sex. It is mildly like reading the phone book. Or having it read to you. Or being told about someone's brilliant kid. Or watching pro-bowling. Being tortured by someone like Ella was almost as sensational as taking orders at McDonald's. Please, big Al, I thought, come back and rescue me from this mess. And in between, there was the pain. Oh, the men both raped me. But that wasn't the worst. That was nothing. It was the women who kept explaining it was because of what somebody else wanted. I mean, why didn't they just say they hated me and get it over with? Nobody takes responsibility. Bill beat me to a pulp. But he kept insisting that I had asked for it. I had begged. Hadn't I? Well, technically, yes. I had even dared him to do it. Because Grace was twisting my arm up behind my back. And WHAM. He did. I started to get up. They let me get so far, and then one of them would hit me. And I'd go down again. The women were as tough as the men. Grace had a good right hook. She also had a foul mouth. It soon became evident she was seeing someone other than myself. "You stinking little whore. I'll fix you." I don't care who it was. I was getting it. Ella also had some gripes to get off her chest. Whoever it was had been very pretty. She wanted to take that away. Then it was the men's turn. Ham hated women. He knocked me across the room. Bill picked me up. And nailed me to the wall. He had an air hammer, and it happened so fast I didn't know what he was doing. Then I remembered having written something exactly like that. I stood there with my arms outstretched, nailed through both palms to the wall. This was heavy pine. I was not going to be able to pull out of there and keep my hands intact. They stood around looking at me. "Wha what are you doing?" I asked. My toes barely touched the floor. At the same moment, I realized this was not it. This was not what I had come to Chicago for. The pain was nothing like the way it was in my stories. There, it had been exciting. It had been real. "Let me down. I don't want to do this. Please. It hurts." At that point, they didn't seem to know what to do. Bill said they were going to wire my tits. But the women weren't interested. They wanted to rip my skin off. My shirt was hanging open and I was taking deep breaths. She came for an abortion. Oh y eah? Well then, go on in. nnaaaaawwwwwww And then she went home. She was dead inside. The girl had been seven months old. She struggled for survival. Ella ripped it out. I had a right to an abortion, didn't I. Susan's daughter. They pinned her down. She was just trying to get out of dia pers when this happened. "wake up, pig." Endless story lines flooded my brain. I stared at them. They didn't move. The gun had convinced them to cooperate. "Am I getting through to you?" Naturally. I can't figure this out. This goes where? The men were arguing over a drill. In there. The girls talked about Kelly's wedding. Bud came home and asked if he could borrow the keys to the car. I went out with him. When we got home, his dad was waiting. I knew all the rules. And broke most of them. Six-gun. She shot her in the belly. Grace went down on the floor. Grinding them out. Come on, Kelly, get up. You set this up. What do I do now? The two bimbos had conspired across straight lines to turn the plane around before flipping over and gaining ballast right there. Cody! Oh, hello, Dwayne. This is your father's. You can imagine the fight the night Kelly tied her to the school lockers and took her towel away. Cody stood there, half naked, everything hanging out. BAM he hit her again and again and again. See that? Divertimento. Chicago. My kind of town. Not! She groaned as the log hit her. "Where'd you say we were going?" The big muddy. Under the bleachers. That wasn't me. Who was it? Clayton. Clayton who? SLAM Up against the wall mudderfucker. Bill came down to look at her before they went to bed. She was freezing. Her whole body shook. He smiled. "Not at all like on the net, is it?" 'no.' That's nice. He slapped her. 'get me dow. pls.' slap He had the manuscript. He sat down on a chair and started to page through it. "You know, Cody, you got me mixed up with some other dude. Maybe this other guy, whatever his name was. I'm not the one who turned your tits into pin cushions. Not that I have anything against it. But it wasn't me. I'm the guy you ripped off. Remem ber? I gave you ten thousand dollars to take care of your bills for a month while we partied, and you split. Remember how I caught up with you in Miami? Remember now, babe? Yeah. I can see you do. I have to say this other guy, whoever he was, he had some right on ideas about what to do with a betraying pig like you. Ooooeeee. I'll say. Like take this: * "I left her hanging there for a few minutes, while I rounded up some more equipment. I stuffed a half dozen oranges into each leg of a pair of pantyhose; then ripped the two legs apart. "I saw her stiffen as I entered the room. I started one leg of the hose spinning faster and faster, then, at the right moment, I swung it under her gut. "Wham! Like being hit by a fucking car, she couldn't breath, she couldn't move, her whole body went rigid, and her mouth moved like a fish's mouth, only much more horribly so. Some blood trickled out, I'd probably punctured a lung with a rib. "Boy, I hoped she'd live to the end of this, I'd hate to lose such a cute little piece of meat. I splashed her face with some water, she was starting return to this planet. "'What? What? Why? What did you?', she sputtered. "I grabbed my baseball bat. Wham! Wham! Into her shin bones, one at time. Broken, shattered leg bones stuck out through the skin. Cody exploded in pain, screaming as each leg broke. Her weight now supported by dislocated shoulders and broken legs, she thrashed about for only a few seconds before passing out. I had Susan shoot her up with Crystal Meth to keep her alive a little longer." * "You keep some pretty interesting company, slut. This gives me a lot of ideas for tomorrow. Know that? You're real cute, you know. The way you trick people and set them up. The way you were always tricking me. I hate cute, you know that? I especia lly hate cute little whores like you who think they're so damned smart. Just shake your ass and think you can get what you want. That's it, isn't it? You come in here, dressed like a whore, embarrass me in front of my wife and friends. I'll show you, cute, slut. You'll wish you'd gone to this guy before I'm finished with you." "Honey, come to bed," Grace hollered from upstairs. He stood up. "Well, tomorrow's another day. I'd better turn in. Me and Cal, we want to get started on you real early. Thought we'd have some of our other buddies over, too. We wouldn't want you going back to New York and saying we didn't treat you right. That is, if you live long enough to get there. Have a nice night, sugar." * To be continued. * From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl) Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories Subject: CODY: MY KIND OF TOWN PART 2 MY KIND OF TOWN. I DON'T THINK SO. PART 2 From "The Ballad of Billy Hemp": "mmmgogjagkjag gagjkagkadfjgadg gakgadrgmadfghaeg hfhadnmadf o nmp mp no nmop no n no mn no ereahgdfhgadfghadfh oh my God no mmmmmmmlp[ggggg mmmm ugggggh please please please oh god, please I'm sorry I didn't mean it eEEAGAGGGGGTGG i COULDN'T BREATHE I tried to bang my head against the back of the chair but it was too low I couldn't beg him because of the mask but I begged with my eyes which were bugging out of my face oh god, please stop not my breasts my beautiful tits oh god, no, please no more don't my big beautiful titties I was so proud of them I tried to think back tried to think what had happened I kept passing out and waking up my mouth filled with blood and I realized I had bitten through my lower lip under the tape oh my god, I was going to look so ugly I needed to get to a hospital I stared at the guy, trying to make him understand "He shoved another needle into my left breast and I went into another frenzy of pain. "I wished desperately he would take off my gag so I could plead for mercy. It was all a mistake. A joke. Didn't he understand? I didn't want to be mutilated. I kept riccochetting in and out of consciousness. Suddenly something left go, and it was a s if I had come loose from my body. I was outside, looking back at it. Watching. I saw Hemp and I saw Cody. I saw the crazed look in her staring green eyes as she watched another needle being shoved into her left watermelon. And felt the pain stabbin g back into her heart and up her arm -- my arm. Cody's long hair was a tornado of red as the 14 year old sex goddess bucked and heaved. Tears flooded down her pretty face. Somewhere deep inside, I knew she was still desperately clinging to the idea that this wasn't happening, or that she could still be healed, that her tits would still be perfect. Another needle invaded her innermost thoughts, shattering the illusion. I watched, fascinated. I knew it was me there in the chair, that it was my body, but at the same time, I knew how much I hated it, this over developed gorgeous redhead. "Standing outside my body, I was once more wearing clothes. A skin tight black party dress with spaghetti straps. Black stockings. High heeled boots. Around my shoulders was a short black cape. I stared down at the piece of shit in the chair. She was everything I hated in myself. Weak. Cowardly. A whore. I wanted to be very careful. To take her apart with infinite precision. For that I would need Hemp. I slipped inside. Reaching out, I ripped off her gag. Blood and chewed lip dribbled out of her mouth. Now, Hemp, let me show you how to really hurt her." * Cody was on crack cocaine. He had taken her out in the woods and left her. Her head was spaced. Where are we? He smashed her face on the keyboard. See. It comes in here. WHAM again and again and again. He punched her face right through the monitor. It was seventeen inches. He wasn't kidding when he said he'd fuck her over. Cody crawled down the driveway. Bill spread her over the hood of his car and fucked her. Go on, Cody, stand up. WHAM. She was like a knockdown my-size Barbie doll. In high heels and a spray of red hair. Cody hoped and prayed for Sunday evening to come. Then it was Ham's turn. He wanted to rape her on his motorcycle. He wanted to drive his Susuki 5000 right up her twat. The women were bored. Now and then they would ask if she was okay. Then they would go back to talking. Kelly came home with her friend, Cheryl, and wanted some money to go into town. She was very pretty. Clean cut blonde. Cheryl was a cute redhead. Cody saw the way the men looked at her. So that was it. Kelly glanced at the way her father was hitting Cody and shrugged. What are you going to do later? I thought we'd go to Taco Bell's. It's such a drag to cook. Are you guys almost done? We're going upstairs. Cody, holler if you want something. ga ggggagggggaggg It was a fast food weekend. Arby's. KFC. Hooters. Saturday it was Ham's birthday. Actually, it was two days before, but they were celebrating it then. We went over there. They ordered Chinese. I put on a short red silk doll's dress, with tulle petticoats under the ruffled skirt that made it stick out, showing my panties. Kelly and Cheryl helped me dress, applying makeup on my black eyes and fluffing out my hair. I was still slightly stunned from before. Kelly was hard-edged, but Cheryl was still baby-fat soft with a round face and large innocent eyes. She was maybe a year younger than me. She blushed when I slipped my hand in between her legs, but she didn't back away. Our eyes met. She smiled. I also had on long red gloves and fishnet stockings. My shoes had seven inch heels. I looked like a transvestite waitress from Avenue A. The women had had a chance to get some of their anger back. They were putting me down again. I tried to get along. But they were starting to get to me. Ella's son from a previous marriage was there. I could see him looking at me. He wasn't quite ri ght. If anything happened, I knew I'd get blamed. Pretty soon, he started to come on to me. I tried to get away, but he kept groping and fondling me. Soon, my breasts were out of my dress, and I was trying to cover myself. That's when Ella walked int o the bedroom. Boy, what a scene. I thought she'd have a stroke. She yanked me out of there so fast my head spun. Wham. Up against the wall. And again. Wham. "What's the matter?" Ham asked. The women dragged me into the kitchen. I was crying. Ella turned on the stove and put a large frying pan on the burner. "Now we'll see what she does." I went crazy. They pushed one of my big cantaloupe tits, the left one, down in the pan. I screamed. It was already burning hot. Ella got on my back and flattened it out. The other squashed on the warm stove top. It was clear she had been thinking a bout this all day. Then she lifted me up and stuck the other one in the pan. My butt must have been jumping around like crazy. Someone had their hand inside my cunt, like they were cleaning out a chicken. Again, Ella changed the pan. I was losing tra ck which tit was burning. Their kid came in the kitchen. "Whatchadoing?" Ella told him to go in the room. He went but came back. I begged him to help me. He just stood there with his eyes hanging open. After she had cooked my tits, Ella took the pan and held it on my bare behind. I screamed some more and promised to be g ood. Don't hurt me, please. Oh, I was so sore. But it was so boring. I mean, what did this cow think she was doing? It wasn't my fault her half-wit kid had a hormone problem. I had to get out of there. I needed some weed. I got Bill's son to take me downtown. I knew he wanted to show me off to his friends. He put his arm around me. After that, I don't remember. When I woke up I was back on the cellar floor. All I could think of was hands touching me. Feeling me. Groping. Hurting. My tits hurt so bad. I practically crawled onto the plane. I was like a walking body bag. The attendant looked at me. "Pillow?" "Thanks." I started to cry. The smallest kindness set me off. The plane back to New York was living hell. It crashed right through the air terminal. What a mess. I don't know how I got to the hospital. They said I screamed for weeks. I tried to tell them about Bill and Chicago. They said I was very lucky to be alive. It was the pain from the burns. I said they had done this to me. Who? Bill. Bill who? Is he your father? No. Slap. He was fucking Kelly, too. I saw him in my dreams. Only it wasn't his Kelly. It was Kelly. oooo Kel, I don't look like you anymore. She was a gorgeous redhead. I was burned over ninety percent of my body. I looked like a dead twig. Well, don't blame Bill. I didn't, Kel. It's not his fault . But it was. If he hadn't lured me to Chicago, none of this would have happened. She laughed. You're delirious. Bill's been right here all weekend. She smacked me with her fist. uueeeiiiieiegggg ggagggagaggggg It was Grace. She had a blowtorch. "How was it?" "no big deal." Then I remembered. Cheryl. What I hadn't allowed myself to remember. Where Bud had taken me. I don't know where it was. It was a room. A place in that place. Where there were a lot of other guys. And Cheryl. With that baby face and madly curly hair. Standing there. Where she wasn't supposed to be. "Hi," she said. "Welcome to Chicago." She was wearing, get this, a black bustier, with black fishnets and high heeled boots that came up to her knees. Over her shoulders was a short black cape. In front of her, I felt like a cupcake. She was thirteen. The bustier came up under her tits a nd laid them out on a shelf of black lace. She was as big as Kelly. What the hell is this, I wondered. "The guys want to see us fight," she said. In the story, when Bill comes to my apartment, he makes me act like a dominatrix. I had to whip him. And then he punched me through a wall. I was dressed like Cheryl was now. She took something out of her mouth. And showed it to me. Then she slipped it back inside her cheek. It was a single edged razor. She smiled and handed me two. I looked at her. "Go on," she said. "Put them in." I had to admit, this was something new. In fact, I'd never even thought of something that crazy. "Do it," she said. "Or I'll do it for you." She took one of hers out and showed me again how it was done. Don't try this at home. They went in along the sides of her gums, dull side down. "It doesn't matter which way. If you're good." This gave a whole new meaning to oral sex. It made the ol d ball on the tongue routine look lame. My face froze around the blades. My cheeks were deep hollows as I fought to hold them in place. Cheryl smiled. Her round, baby face was totally relaxed. She opened a bottle of Evian and took a swig. I nearly shit. She handed me the bottle. "Go on. Try it." I was afraid to talk. I didn't want my tongue to be cut off. "Go on." I raised the bottle to my lips and started to take a small sip. And she kicked me in the stomach. She was one of the dirtiest fighters I have ever met. Unfortunately, she wasn't very strong. She must have lost a lot of fights but now she was taking it out on me. Hooking a leash to my collar, she pulled my head down, then drove her knee into my fac e. Blood spattered everywhere. She dragged me around the room, kicking and shoving me. Then I hit her. I punched her face. The little nympho doubled up. Wrong move, cutey. WHAM I lifted her off her feet. I guess we were like New York vs. Chicago. My kind of town. Get up, Cheryl. "Don't hit me." I was thinking more like breaking you in half. I too k the leash and wrapped it around her neck, hooking it so it was like a noose, and pulling it tight. She got it now. I'd been taking the blows for this little cunt all weekend long. Now it was pay back time. I could see why someone like Ella hated her guts. Shaking her cute little behind all over the neighborhood. Ham must have spent hours in her pants. I had maybe ten pounds on her, although it sure wasn't in the chest. Cheryl was even with me there. Maybe a little bigger. But my arms were longer and I was taller. Cutey Pie was a wide open target. I wondered who had set her up. Then I noticed Kelly watching me take her friend apart, and I knew. Cheryl could have been the adorable little cupcake Kelly Bundy had hung on the school locker. I gave her cheeks a sharp squeeze. Blood spurted out of her mouth. touch her she was crawling across the floor spitting blood. It was the razors that did it. Upp agaINAST THE TONSCILS CINDERELLA sHGE CUT HER DOWN SUCKER PUNCH HI TOOTS dO IT. cHERRY GOT UP STAGGERING CODDY keep punching I want see how it comes out. this is the part they don't show you back stage. like at the party bud was breathing, but not muchg what happened to him my son i love you they never say it who courtney get her up here slam slam ]sl;ma spag the girl pleaded for her life. she got a kick in the jaw and went down hard Cody walked over and picked her prey off the floor jesus, you're a mess you need a whole makeover touch her go on and touch her you wanted it now she's here do it do what you've always wanted. to drag Cheryl Wright through ever sewer in Kingston no not illinois Jamaica how about it? are you game? we can ride her. Fly Cheryl. I dropped the pig on the floor a razor was sticking out of her cheek. I think she swallowed the other one. gagging on it. you make me sick you know this bitch is what you've lusted for all along. Now use her. Get up Cheryl. Give the man a blowjob. "I don't have to listen to you." oh, but you do, honey. you have to do everything I say. I kneed her in the jaw. I heard those teeth click Cheryl was crying. I hauled her over and practically shoved her head down on the guy's prick. She started to suck like it was something dirty and ugly being forced in to her mouth, which it was. Get used to it, kid. There's a lot more where that came from. She started to gag. He was strangling her with it. Those big lustrous eyes under the lashes opened very wide indeed. I saw the look on her face as she played blowup doll to the whole block. It was like trick or treat. Somehow, we ended up back at Bill's. He grinned. He was using the manuscript of Cody's past experiences, feeding them into Cheryl's emaciated teenage body. * "Deliberately, slowly, I unwound the piano wire around her left tit. It ballooned into a large purple thing twice as big as before. The nipple was a ground-up strawberry. He had done a nice job. Several needles still pierced the pretty teenager's fat melon. She was crying hysterically. I lifted it up in Hemp's big hand. Cody went wild. Crying. Bawling. Snot poured out of her nose. I gave it a little toss and let if fall smack on her skinny chest. She screamed and tried to jerk herself out of the chair. This was why I wanted her loose. So she could really thrash around. I wanted that luscious body to be able to move, to put on a show. "Hemp unwound the other tit. It matched the other. The girl stared down at it in disbelief. She kept shaking her head dumbly as he untied her. Her unbound hands fluttered helplessly about her damaged nipples, but she made no attempt to escape, just c owered there, even when he turned his back on her to walk over to a nearby workbench. There were a number of rather ugly looking tools there. Hemp picked up something that looked like a gun and went back to where I was sitting. I stared up at him, unco mprehending, although at the same time I knew exactly what was in store for the little minx. Hemp jerked her roughly out of the chair and shoved her in front of him towards a wooden column further back in the room. Cody was too weak to resist. He kicke d a box, some kind of packing crate, up against the pole and made her stand on it. And then he jerked one arm up behind her against the pole. BANG. The air hammer nailed her to the pole through the left wrist. Cody screamed. He lifted the other arm. BANG. Neat. And kicked the box out from under her. She came down on her wrists and dislocated shoulders. He admired his work. I did, too. I thought I would die. I know I wanted to. Then he pulled her right leg back around the pole. BANG. BANG. Right through the knee. "The left followed. Cody's belly hung down. There was a look on her face that would have given a religious painter fits. The martyrdom of St. Cody. Her tits flowed across her scrawny chest like two bags of purple pus. She just kept shaking her head , like someone with Parkinson's. I think her nervous system had overloaded. "This new arrangement left her belly and cunt exposed. I was sure Hemp would have no trouble extemporizing on its many possibilities. I cupped her chin with his hand and lifted it. There was still a lot of beauty in that elfin face. And intelligence. That was good. I wanted Cody to be fully aware of everything that was happening to her. She stared into my eyes. There was a short shift sideways and I became aware of the pain in my locked shoulders followed by my broken knees and the arch in my bac k. My mouth was choked with blood. I gazed outward through a swaying curtain of red ringlets as Hemp stuck his fingers deep into my wet cunt. "He was close enough that I could spit in his face. And I did." * Cheryl, however, did not spit in Bill's face. The voluptuous teenager was too scared. She put on a pretty good performance, though. She was a fantastic protege. Dance, slut. Go on and dance. The slut was down to only a g-string. And she screamed a lot. Also, I couldn't really get inside her, like in the story. I couldn't really really know what the pretty little cheerleader was going through. That was a bummer. I could only imagine. Well, I had had some experience. I knew how ham fisted Bill could be. But I couldn't really feel Cheryl's pain, much as I would have liked to. Kelly walked in. Cheryl was going mad in her bondages. She was spread all over the rec room wall. I wouldn't call it great art, but it was interesting. Cheryl was breathing heavily. The men drank beer and watched Sunday afternoon football. Or was i t badmitten? You put the mitten on like this. And then you give her a tap. And she reacts. Nice. Middle Americans are very inventive. The meters on the glove tell you what you are doing and when. Bill had made this one out of parts from an old Mazda he had up on cinderblocks in his front yard. Try it. You can also control the current in the glove on individual fingers and joints. Yeah. Get up under there. See the way she's reacting. That tells you something big is happening. Inside her. Where it counts. wha happed Cheryl looked dazed. we've got it down to basics. she whines when you do that. touch her here. The girl reacted as predicted. so that's how it looked? when i did it. not bad. In fact, even better. Because it wasn't me. The other razor blade was sticking out of her neck. That was another thing I owed her for. I could hardly wait to show the women back at the office. Diane, my boss, would freak out. I slid one of the blad es out on my tongue just to show Cheryl how I could do it; turned it over, held it between my teeth and took it back in, laying it between my gum and cheek. Going up to her, I took one of her big baby boobs into my mouth -- well, as much of it as I could . There was some high pitched shrieking as I gave the soft tit meat a long slow kiss goodbye. When I let go, it looked like it had been chopped up in a blender. "Thanks sucker," I smiled at her. Cheryl begged me with her eyes not to go away and leave her like that. But what could I do? I only had a weekend. I had to get back. As I left, Bill was digging around up inside her with the electric glove, like he was cleaning out a chicken. The lo ok on Cheryl's face said she had forgotten all about me. For all I know, she's still hanging on a wall someplace outside of Chi. Chi-ao, bimbo. Bud said he'd drive me to the airport. The bastard got me there early enough so he could force me to give him a blowjob in the car park. Boy, was he surprised.