This was one reason Marianne never dated since her divorce. The other was fear. She was a timid, shy woman who was easily taken advantage of. As a teen, she'd endured numerous date rapes and later in life had been attacked at least twice by either co-workers or complete strangers. Marianne never fought or resisted, preferring to let her attackers have their own way and finish.

She blamed herself, of course, because she was meek, but also very lovely. 5'3" tall and one hundred five pounds, she was small breasted, with long, slim legs and a fair, delicate face with freckles and green eyes. Her thick, wavy red hair fell to the middle of her back. Dressed today in a red long sleeve blouse with a short black skirt and white high heels, she was a knockout.

As she approached her car, a van pulled up behind her. She heard the door slide open and tensed, just a moment of hesitation that was too much. A second later a cloth was pressed over her face, and she went out like a light...

It was a typical morning in the Harris household. Kids clamoring to the table for breakfast, June Harris working quickly to feed them, Brad Harris reading the morning paper over coffee.

Shannon Harris, twelve, spooned cereal into her mouth and read the back of the paper her father was holding. Little April Harris, ten, the Harris's adopted daughter, nibbled at the eggs her mother lay before her.

Mark Harris, eighteen, ignored his breakfast and sat reading a stack of papers resting in his lap, occasionally fiddling with a calculator on the table next to his elbow. He smiled a little as his mother tousled his hair and encouraged him to eat.

On the surface, just a plain, ordinary American family, all together at breakfast on a warm July morning.

Brad Harris set down his paper and got up from the table, ready to go to work. He gave each of his daughter's a kiss on the cheek, then one for his wife. His day at the new video store he'd opened a few months ago had to begin sometime.

"You kids be good, and mind your mother", he said.

"We will", the girls chorused, and Mark just waved him off.

June leaned over to kiss him again. "When you get home tonight, I've got something...very special in mind."

"Mmm, can't wait", Brad laughed, kissing her deeply before he left.

To anybody peeking in a window, it would have all looked so normal. But it wasn't, as anybody close to the Harris family could tell you.

As soon as Brad was gone, the smile vanished from June's face, and the two girls stopped eating, also looking troubled. Little April even got up and ran over to her mother.

Mark stood up slowly, his expression calm and placid. But it didn't stay that way. Turning to his mother, he ordered her to sit down, and she did, trembling all over. Little April joined her, climbing into her lap.

In the past year, much had happened in the household--and to Mark. What had begun with raping his sister and her friends, using them as his personal slaves and prostitutes, had escalated to new and more violent heights. In short, Mark had become like a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off.

"Well now, I see I have your attention", Mark sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "You girls have been slacking off on me big time. Profits are down. And you know what that means."

June burst into tears. Mark--indeed, everything over the past year--had begun with her. Begun long ago, when she'd started molesting her son, eventually egging him into turning his agression against her. She'd always been in control then, however, at least to some extent.

Then last summer, Brad--who up until then had been a wimp of a husband, doing what she wanted, when she wanted, and liking it because he had to--and suddenly turned on her, taking control, going almost crazy. For a time, he'd been dangerous, violent. But in the past year he'd calmed, grown to actually love her, and she him. Early on, Brad had raped her, and allowed others to do it as well, but that had finally calmed to lovemaking, and it was something June had grown quite appreciative of.

Although, Brad still liked to have sex with her two daughters, and the girl's friends, the Roberts twins, their sister Julie, and their mother, Marianne. But June understood that for what it was--sex. Not lovemaking, except maybe with his two daughters (who had, over time, grown to look forward with their special sessions with Daddy) but just plain sex.

But if Brad had changed--going from wimp to power man, taking sex as he pleased yet returning kindness mostly--Mark had changed for the worse totally. He'd grown more demanding of his mother and sister and their friends, ordering them around, using them as slaves, partly with his father's consent. Partly, in that, Brad didn't know the entire story. If he did, he might well have killed Mark.

Mark leaned over the table then. "You have a problem, mother?", he asked, his voice as cold as steel.

"Don't hurt her Mark", Shannon pleaded. In the past year June had renewed her love for her child; before that, Shannon had just been another sex slave in waiting. Now they were mother and daughter, loving, and allied.

Mark whirled on his sister, who shrank into her chair. "Please don't hurt her."

Mark grinned. Hurt them--he loved that. Physically, Mark never laid a hand on his mother or sisters, or anyone else; he didn't want to risk bruises, or letting his father discover what he was doing. No, the hurt was something else now. It was rape, like they'd all experienced the past year, but more violent and painful than ever. Much worse, thanks to a drug he'd obtained that made sex VERY painful for a short time (he'd heard of a permanent one, but hadn't been able to get it.)

For June, it also brought a new definition. While she normally engaged in sex with her daughters--and other girls--it was also gentle and loving, and she didn't mind watching Brad do it, either. But watching them be raped--which had for so long turned her on--was totally painful and repulsive to her now, given how she loved them these days. It was one thing to know it was happening, it was another to see it. And this was how Mark most often hurt her.

"She's been slacking, sis. You all have. You've all gone and gotten wimpy on me, too. It's like you dont' like it anymore."

"They're tired, Mark", June pleaded.

"I don't give a FLYING FUCK!", Mark shouted. Little April shrieked and buried her face in her mother's breast.

June wrapped her arms around April protectively. She couldn't fight her son, but some part of her was determined to protect her youngest. She was the one Mark abused the most, knowing how much his mother cared about her.

"April, don't you have day camp or something?", Mark asked. April nodded. "Then get off her lap and get going."

April slowly got down, stopping long enough to hug and kiss her mother. Then she turned and tried to bolt past her brother, who caught her around the waist and scooped her up.

"Hey, what about me?", he asked softly. "No kiss?"

Grimacing, April leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. June turned her gaze as Mark grabbed the child's head and forced her to deepen the kiss before he set her down.

April backed away and ran over to Shannon next. Shannon gave her adopted sister a hug--they'd grown very close in the past year--and a quick kiss. Then April was out the door and gone.

Mark turned back to his mother and sister. "Well now, that just leaves you two. So which one shall I punish?"

Shannon looked at June, and June looked back, both of them miserable. Finally June spoke. "Me. It's my fault."

Shannon didn't argue. Mark's attention was on her mother, and before he could change his mind, she got up and ran. Mark made a grab for her but missed before she was out the door.

June breathed a small sigh of relief and began to cry again. She could only imagine what Mark had in store for her.

Brad Harris liked his little video store. It was nothing like his old job, which he rarely thought of. He had all the latest tapes here, and if you knew how to ask for them, some particularly nasty ones he and his son had made over the past year.

Last summer--after years of watching and taking abuse--Brad had finally snapped and become as bad as his son, raping little girl and even killing a few of them, and other people, on the way. But as the year had progressed, he'd lost interest in the force of it, still enjoying the control, but preferring to employ "gentler" means--though bondage was usually a part of it. Often, with some younger girls, he only made them do the least--usually oral sex--then used threats or bribes to assure their silence. If the risk was too great, he turned them over to Mark, who inevitably "got rid" of them--whether by death or selling, he rarely asked.

When it came to his own daughters, or the Roberts girls, he was very gentle; bondage only when they wanted, and he never made them do anything. Deep down, he knew this disgusted Mark--and he was also vary wary of his son lately. Mark was too prone to violence and though nobody said anything, Brad suspected he'd been doing more than he should with June and the girls.

With him in the store was Marianne Roberts, whose change from meek, submissive lesbian to meek, submissive sex slave nearly a year ago didn't show much. She worked as a clerk at the store, though he paid her a lot more than most clerks. Marianne was deeply afraid of him--she feared all men, in fact, a side effect of her "training". But at least she seemed to respect him. And he liked her, maybe even loved her a bit, but more as a child than as a woman.

Brad loved both, and often used the store as a means to obtain the objects of that love. Sometimes he just took Marianne or one of her or his kids into the back and had sex, when the mood struck him, but at other times he preferred the fresh young customers who came in.

He saw a small blonde head duck in the door, and instantly got hard--until he saw it was only Shannon. Dressed in short khaki denim shorts, a white short sleeve blouse and pink sneakers, she still looked cute, but she wasn't what he wanted.

"Hi daddy", she said brightly. "You busy?"

"Not right now. Julie's in back, she came in a little while ago. And I got somebody else waiting back there. Want to mind the counter for me?"

"Sure, okay", Shannon shrugged.

Brad patted his daughter's head, and stepped into the back. Beyond a room full of tapes lay a smaller room, with TV, some bean bag chairs and a couch.

Laying bound and gagged on the couch in back was a pretty girl with thick red hair that fell to her waist and big green eyes. She had a freckled face and was cute as a button, about six years old. She wore short little denim shorts and cream yellow t-shirt, and white tennis sneakers.

Her name was Meghan, and Brad had lured her back here this morning after she'd come to drop off some tapes. Once she had her back to him it was a simple matter to grab and restrain the child.

She'd been near hysterics until Julie had come in a little while ago and calmed her. Sweet Julie, in her purple satin t-shirt and matching short purple shorts, with white sneakers--Brad had tied her hands to show Meghan "it wasn't so bad."

"Well, how are you two getting along?", Brad asked.

"Meghan's scared. She thinks you'll hurt her."

"I'd never do that. I like you, Meghan. That's why you're all tied up. I didn't want you to leave."

Meghan whimpered and squirmed a bit.

"I'm going to teach you a little bit about sex, okay, Meghan? Now you just watch and learn, then it's your turn. If you do it right, I'll do something to make you feel good, then you can go home."

Brad unzipped his pants, letting his cock spring free. "Come on Julie, show Meghan how to suck cock."

"Watch, do just like I do", Julie told the girl, kneeling down and sliding Brad's cock partway into her mouth. She usually went deeper, but there was no way this small child was going to be able to repeat that. Brad moaned, calling Julie a good girl and complimenting her, then she backed off, not wanting him to cum. She stood up and smiled at little Meghan, who looked more curious than anything now.

"Ready to try?", Brad asked.

The little girl nodded. He went over and helped her up, moving her so she could kneel. She took it as far into her mouth as she dared, and after a few minutes of experimenting, began to imitate Julie. Brad moaned, enjoying her hot, wet, six year old mouth, and stroked her hair, telling her how good she was.

It took a good ten minutes, but she got him off. He held her head as he came, telling her to swallow. She had a hard time of it, but managed to get it down.

When Meghan had finished the last of his cum, he gave her a firm hug and a kiss. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?", he asked.

Meghan shook her head. "Can I go home now?"

"Not yet. Now I'm going to make you feel really good." He laid her back down, pulling her shorts and panties off. She seemed nervous about this, but relaxed when he smiled at her fat, bald little pussy.

Marianne came in, leaving Shannon to tend the front counter, and motioned for Julie to lay down. Pulling down her daughter's shorts and panties, she balled up the panties and stuffed them in Julie's mouth, then put the gag into place as well. Brad did the same to Meghan, who gave him little resistance but clearly didn't like it.

Moving down, he bent his head and began to lick and suck her little pussy. The child jerked at the touch, then calmed, her breathing picking up. Brad pushed his mouth harder against her, sucking her little clit.

Meghan was really into it now. Brad was glad he'd gagged her; she was loud! Her moans and panting were really getting up there, and seconds later she came, her little pussy flooding with moistness. Brad licked her clean and reached up to remove the gag and panties. "Wow!"

"You liked that?", Brad asked.

Meghan nodded. "Do it again!"

"Not today. But if you come back tomorrow, I will. Just don't tell anybody about this, or I can't ever do it again."

"I won't tell!", Meghan promised excitedly. Brad untied her and she got dressed, except for her panties, which she let him keep. Then she skipped out the door, promising to be back tomorrow.

Marianne rose from Julie, who'd just finished coming. "Thanks for your help, you two", Brad told them, returning to the front where Shannon leaned on the counter, watching a video.

"You look bored. Why aren't you out, you know?", he asked, aware of customers a few rows away.

"I was waiting for you to get done, daddy", she said. Brad knew it was more like she didn't want to go; since tasting what just plain loving sex was like, she'd lost much of her taste for getting raped. But it made money a lot of the time, when it was set up, and Brad liked the money too much to encourage her to break the habit.

"Well, I'm done, so go on. We'll do something special later, okay?"

"Okay", Shannon sighed, and left.

Julie came out just after that. "Where's Shannon?"

"She went out. Maybe you can catch up to her."

Julie shook her head. "No thanks. I like to get it alone." She smiled. A year ago, rape was the worst thing in her life; now she lived for it.

"Well, then go on out and get some", Brad told her. "Unless you want me to arrange it..."

Julie nodded. "I want ten of them."

Brad cocked an eyebrow. "Ten?" She meant ten men.

Julie nodded. "And I want to stay away a while."

"How's a week?"

"Okay", Julie agreed.

Returning to the back, Bill picked up a phone and punched in a number. After arranging a kidnapping and gang rape for Julie, he returned.

"Go on down to the park. It's there", he told her.

Julie smiled and ran out the door.

Shannon made her way slowly down the sidewalk. Her life these days was so confused--sex with her father, who loved her; rape by her brother, who hated her. Her best friend, who had once been kind and sweet and terrified of rape, now loved it the way she had. Her mother, whom she'd learned had caused all this, would willingly die for her now, and Shannon for her.

She'd been avoiding rapes lately, not only because she hated them but out of fear she'd get pregnant. She hadn't yet had her period, but she had little doubt soon enough she'd be fertile--and if she got pregnant, she'd be in big trouble. Mark had made it clear if she did, she'd wind up dead. "Accidentally", of course.

Yet for all of it, Shannon was not entirely down on it. Yes, she hated the rapes, but couldn't escape the excitement they brought, or the way the feel of the ropes made her wet. She couldn't escape the joys of helplessness. It was a twisted, love-hate relationship with no end in sight.

As she turned the corner around the video store, she saw a van idling by the curb, the side door open. A man was sitting there, holding a puppy. Stupid as it was, Shannon approached, part of her very much hoping he'd grab her.

"He's cute", she said, smiling.

"She's cute", the man corrected. "Want to hold her?"

"Yeah." Shannon took the puppy and held it in her arms. The dog licked her chin and she giggled. "Is she yours?"

"Sort of. I'm giving her away. I have a whole litter in here, if you'd like to take a look."

Shannon knew that one TOO well. But she played dumb anyhow. "Yeah. I'd love a puppy."

"Back here", he told her, as she leaned in, his hand clamped over her mouth and she pulled inside. A second later the door shut, and Shannon knew it was about to begin again...

The bus stop for the bus that took April to day camp couldn't have been more isolated. It sat on a corner of a block filled with rows of homes long since abandoned or occupied by older people who rarely came out, and what little traffic there was didn't amount to ten cars a day.

April didn't like it, and she didn't like day camp. From almost the first time she'd come here, she'd been molested or raped at least a dozen times. One man even came around every Wednesday and picked her up, believing he was scaring her into not telling; he didn't know she was into this, more or less. Actually, she didn't like the rape--sex with her daddy was okay--but rape hurt. But she let them do it, because she was expected to.

Day camp was no better. She never actually attended it; one of the counselors always latched onto her when she arrived and took her into the woods, to an old cabin, where he spent the day raping her.

Oh well, she expected that today, too.

Dressed for camp, she wore very short red shorts, a white t-shirt and white tennis sneakers. It was the same camp the Roberts twins had gone to last year; now they went almost no place. Brianna went out a lot, but Brandi was skittish, and tended to stay home alot.

It wasn't long before a strange car pulled up. It was a big car, with dark tinted windows, too dark for her to see in. She expected the door to open any second, and resigned herself to go along.

The driver's window slid down, and an arm appeared. Something silvery flipped through the air and landed on the pavement behind her. Curious, April turned and bent to pick it up--it was a silver dollar.

At the same instant, she heard the door open, and a cloth pressed over her face. The cloth smelled, and it was a smells he remembered well. But memory was useless as darkness closed over her and she was pulled into the car...

At a rundown garage on the far end of town, Jimmy Cault was preparing to go out and get little Julie Roberts. Jimmy had never fucked the little eleven year old before, but he'd heard she was good, one of the best. Sure, it wasn't real rape, but Jimmy liked it anyway.

Getting ten guys to help hadn't taken much; just the idea of young pussy was enough to draw them. As he was about to get in the car, the phone rang.

He briefly considered ignoring it, but it was insistent, and he got up to answer it. "Hello? Hey, yeah. I was just heading out. What do you mean, a change in plans? Okay, okay, chill. WHAT? Aw, come on!" He frowned, then grinned. "Well, in that case, I can make an exception. Sure will. The other guys'll be disappointed, but screw 'em. You got it." He set the phone down, shaking his head. A hundred grand. Yeah, that would make up for it.

Frowning, he sat back down and pulled a girlie magazine out of the desk under the phone, and leaned back to read. A hundred grand was nice. But he sure could have used some pussy. To bad he wouldn't get any today.

Marianne emerged from the back room to find the store empty, except for a few customers. There was a note on the counter for her.

"Marianne--Had to go out for something. Probably be gone most of the day. Keep an eye on things. Love, Brad."

She crumpled up the note and forced a smile. Brad was really nice to her, but she couldn't help but be afraid of him. He was, after all...a MAN. A year ago, she might not have thought that way, until the training...

She still had nightmares about it. Brainwashing, pain, the terror of watching one of her twins raped, of joining in and helping, of having her mind twisted so badly that she now lived in daily fear. Working here helped some--you had to deal with men on a regular basis--but not much.

She wondered where Brad had gone. It wasn't like him to leave so suddenly; and without explanation. Though maybe after this morning, he'd decided to go after that Meghan girl and get more of what she'd given him.

Marianne had liked watching him lick the girl, and secretly wanted to see him do her. She much preferred to watch Brad do other women and girls--even her own kids--than do it to her. Sex was just so...repulsive to her now.

Even her lesbian relationship with June Harris was on the rocks. She loved June deeply, but over the past year June had pretty much lost interest.

The door jangled, and Brianna came in, minus her twin. Brandi never left the house much these days, but Brianna was out all the time. And she rarely seemed to have trouble finding someone who wanted to have fun with her six year old body.

Brianna looked totally out of place, yet cute enough today. A red, long sleeve pullover sweater with a white blouse underneath, a pleated, short plaid skirt, and white flats. She was out to get raped, Marianne knew, because rape was about all her daughter could understand her life was for.

"Hi mommy", she said sweetly.

"Hi honey. Why are you all dressed up?"

"You know why."

"Oh, yeah. Well why are you here? You should be out there."

"Oh, I just wanted to say hi."

"Well you did, now get lost", Marianne told her. Being snappy at Brianna--once a sweet, innocent child--hardly phased the girl.

"Alright. Bye." And she skipped out, holding the door for a man on his way in. The man watched her go, then shut the door and locked it, turning the sign around. Marianne got a very bad feeling in that instant.

It got worse when he pulled the gun. "Okay, lady, I want two things, and money is just one of them."

Marianne moved to the register, opening the drawer. "Not yet. You didn't hear number two."

"W-What's that?", Marianne asked.

"You. Get in back."

Marianne held up her hands, as if that would somehow ward him off. "No, please--"

"I SAID GET YOUR ASS IN BACK!", the man demanded, shoving the gun in her face. Marianne backed away. The man climbed over the counter after her, grabbing her arm and pushing her into the back. He spotted the couch and the ropes and gag lying on it, left over from earlier.

"Well now, this makes things a fuck of a lot easier", he said. "Turn around and keep your mouth shut."

Marianne stood quietly, shaking all over, as he used one length of rope to bind her wrists together behind her. When that was done, he ordered her to her knees and stepped in front of her. Down came his pants, and out came his rock hard cock.

"Don't just sit there, bitch, make me happy", he ordered in a low voice.

Marianne leaned forward, sliding his cock into her mouth.

Thunder Park had been built back in the 30s, a quiet, tree-lined park sporting a huge lake and acres of walking paths. Originally intended as a place for families, it had quickly fallen over the years into the hands of the seemier members of society, due in large part to a lack of police to patrol it.

Julie got off the bus at the park's entrance, ignoring the stare of a wino who leaned against the wrought iron fence, sipping booze from a bottle in a paper bag. Once or twice in the park wino's had raped or molested her; it was no pleasant, given their awful smell and unwashed bodies, but with the way her life was going, it was just something she accepted as part of things.

For Julie, there was no future--just the present. A year ago she'd thought differently, but over time she'd come to realize her predicament, and there was no way out of it. So rather than fight, she'd given in. She allowed the abuse to happen, aggravated and asked for it, in fact, because it had become her life. Not much of a life, but a life at any rate.

The park was fairly empty today; most people avoided it even by day, given that one could expect to be mugged or worse at any given time. That made it an ideal place for her to wander in search of a rapist--the trouble was, most rapists were pretty suspicious of such a young girl roaming the park, given it's reputation, and usually avoided her, expecting to have cops show up the minute they grabbed her.

That wouldn't be the case today, of course; thanks to Brad's having arranged this one. It wasn't as much fun as having it spontaneously happen, but it was something, at least.

Wandering deeper into the park, she saw less and less of anyone around, even winos. A squirrel scampered across her path, then disappeared into the bushes.

For the first time, she noticed the oppressive silence. The woods, normally teeming with animal noises, had gone silent. She suddenly felt incredibly alone...and incredibly scared.

Something crunched off to her right. She turned to look, but saw nothing. She shivered a little as a chill crept up her spine. She felt like she was being watched, and it was a sinister feeling, something that went way past any of the excitement she'd been feeling.

She continued on, anyway, the feeling staying with her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement several times, but when she stopped to look, it was gone. Now her anticipation of being picked up and rape fled, and she just wanted to get clear of the park. There was something in those woods, something evil, and it was after her.

She ran. Whatever was in the woods moved with her, just a blurry shadow in the dim shade, no longer trying to keep silent. Julie ran as fast and hard as she could, determined to keep ahead of it. Rounding a bend in the path, she spotted the park's other entrance up ahead. If she could just make it...

She never saw him step out until it was too late.

Stumbling, she tried to halt, but he was right there, moving out of the trees like a shadow. A man, she thought, in a long coat. Only this was no man. Where his head should have been was a skull, a bare, grinning skull--with two black, empty eye sockets.

Even as she opened her mouth to scream he had her, grabbing her shoulder and pressing a chloroform soaked cloth over her face...

For the third time that morning, the phone rang and Jimmy Cault picked it up. "Yeah, they weren't too happy, but they'll have to like it", Jimmy said, answering the question he was asked. "Oh! Hey, yeah! Another hundred grand? Shit, I don't even need that to go do that little cunt! Yeah, I'll get a bunch of us and go over right now! Sure thing, Mr. H!"

He hung up the phone and let out a whoop of triumph. Maybe he wouldn't get Julie, but he was going to get little Brandi!

The Roberts household was quiet, the silence broken only the the occasionally click and whir of the refrigerator and the hum of the air conditioner.

Little Brandi Roberts sat on the couch, a teddy bear tucked under one arm. The TV was on in front of her, the volume turned down. She stared at it without seeing, deeply lost in her own thoughts, memories of the awful training she'd gone through only a year before. Memories that haunted her every day and threatened to drive the small girl out of her mind.

Brandi wore the same outfit her sister had--the twins always dressed alike. But while Brianna actively sought to get raped, Brandi chose to hide at home and avoid it when possible.

The ringing of the doorbell brought her back to reality. Brandi didn't want to answer it, but the choice wasn't hers. If it was somebody Mark had sent to hurt her, she had to let them in. Otherwise, Mark himself would see to it she suffered for not doing as he wanted.

Four men stood on the front porch, all young men, not much older than Mark. "Hi, what's your name?", one asked.

"Brandi", Brandi answered, wanting to slam the door but was too afraid Mark had sent them.

"You all alone, babe?"

Brandi nodded.

Suddenly he had her, one hand over her mouth, and he was lifting her with his other arm. The men stepped in and shut the door, locking it behind them, as Brandi squirmed in the man's grasp.

"See? I told you she's home by herself a lot. So we got lots of time", one man said.

They carried her up to the bedroom she shared with Brianna and pushed her face down on the bed. First her hands were bound, then her panties ripped off and stuffed in her mouth, then she was gagged more appropriately. Flipping the girl over, one man straddled her squirming body, then slapped her face hard, making her cry harder and lay still.

"She's got too much clothes on for such a hot day", he said, then promptly ripped her sweater and blouse open, and ripped her skirt off.

He plunged into the helpless girl, each stroke burning as he fucked her dry cunt. Lips and tongues caressed her bare nipples and soft little neck as the other three rapists went to work joining in.

One after another they took turns on her, until their cum was leaking out of her abused pussy. Then they rose, one after the other, and without even glancing back, turned and left the house, leaving the child bound and sobbing on the bed...

As if leaving her to some other fate.

Little April slowly came awake. At first she felt groggy, but that soon passed; still, she couldn't open her eyes. She realized quickly she'd been blindfolded, and bound and gagged as well. Momentarily panicked, she soon relaxed, having learned from experience there was nothing to be done about it.

A voice whispered in her ear. Soft. Hollow. Emotionless. It made her shudder. "Well now, are we awake?"

April nodded slowly.

"Well, I suppose that's good. Maybe not. Either way, it no longer matters. What matters is that I am here and you are here. And it is time for you pain to end."

April stiffened. She didn't like the sound of that.

"I promise, it won't hurt. Just a little prick is all. You were the most innocent of them all. You lost the most. I can sympathize with that. Now just lie still. This will only hurt a second. Then you'll go to sleep, and never wake up again."

April whimpered and began to struggle. She felt something stick her in the thigh, something sharp. In seconds, she became very sleepy, the world around her fading out. A few seconds after that she went still, drifting off into a slumber from which she'd never awaken...

Death leaned over the child, and was satisfied. The first was done. Her suffering was over.

The Killing Time had begun.

Brandi squirmed on the bed, unable to get free of the ropes. The footsteps approached her door, then stopped. Slowly the knob turned. Brandi watched hopefully, praying it was someone come to rescue her.

Then she screamed as Death swept into the room.

He moved swiftly over to the child, climbing on top of her, straddling her small form and pinning her down. Without a word, he pulled the pillow out from under her head, and only then did he speak. Four words in a voice that echoed with a hollow, emotionless chill.

"Time to die, Brandi."

Then he pressed the pillow over her face.

Brandi squirmed under the hot, suffocating blackness of the pillow, gradually losing awareness of Death on her, of the pillow itself, then of her own self...

Several minutes after the girl stopped squirming, Death lifted the pillow. He reached out to touch her neck, then drew his hand away from her lifeless body.

Brianna could hardly wait to meet her "secret" pal. She knew it was a man--he'd told her so. She'd met him on the computer, and he'd told her things, lots of things, that he wanted to do if he met her. Things she liked, like tying her up and raping her. She'd played innocent, of course, which wasn't hard, and he'd finally arranged for her to meet him at the mall parking lot. Brianna giggled, thinking of how much she knew that he didn't know she knew.

One thing that sounded exciting was the snuff film he said they'd make. Brianna had NO idea what it was, but he assured her it was more fun than the rest of the stuff, and that sounded pretty good to her young, twisted mind.

The instructions he'd given Brianna were simple--get in the car and put the blindfold on. She found the car easily--he'd given her the license plate--and climbed in front. The blindfold was on the seat, and she tied it over her eyes and sat back to wait.

It wasn't long before she heard the driver's door open. She turned to him, and his hand pressed over her mouth, holding a smelly cloth to her face. It wasn't more than a few seconds before she passed out...

Julie slowly came to.

Her first impression was of cool darkness, and the smell of must. Rapidly she gained other understandings, like the fact that her body was bound, and she was tightly gagged.

As her vision cleared, she could make out shapes: a bicycle tire, boxes, a washing machine. She was laying on a cold, hard floor that gave her chills.

Then she realized where she was. Home. In her own basement.

And then a skull popped into view over her.

She screamed, but with the gag, it was pathetic, almost mute. Death leaned over her, and spoke, his smile never changing, jaw never moving.

"Once, Julie Roberts, you were a good child. Sweet, kind, innocent. Once I might have left you be. But you have changed. You have become the worst of the lot. You seek what the others hate. You crave the taste of violence. You are no longer pure, Julie Roberts, and no longer fit to be a part of this earth."

Julie trembled. She didn't like the sound of those last words.

Death stood up. "I have thought long and hard on this, Julie Roberts. You are still a child in body, but no longer in mind, not entirely unlike your sisters. Yet they, in some sense, remained children, suffering children. Their ends were ones of relative peace. Yours will not be."

He turned and stared down at her. "I sentence you to die by hanging, Julie Roberts."

Julie screamed and struggled frantically, but she was like a fly in a web and Death was the spider. Grabbing her by the throat, he yanked her to her feet and dragged her to a nearby chair, above which a rope had been suspended...

Brianna wasn't sure how long she'd been in the back seat of the car. Bound, gagged and blindfolded, she could do nothing but lie there and whimper or listen. And there wasn't much to hear except the hum of the motor and the hiss of the air conditioner.

The car had stopped only a little while ago, and the air in the car had quickly grown hot. She'd heard the trunk open and close, then there had been only silence.

Her "secret" man hadn't spoken to her once yet. He hadn't even touched her. In her short time of life, she'd never quite been through anything like this. And it scared her.

The rear door opened. A pair of hands slid under her and lifted her. She was being carried now, through a door. All was quiet...yet she smelled a familiar smell. She just couldn't place it.

He continued to carry her. Up a flight of steps. Through another door. Then he was laying her down on something soft. A bed.

The blindfold came off.

Brianna looked around her and gasped. She was in her own room! Her sister lay on the opposite bed, a pillow over her face. She was almost naked, and not moving at all.

"Look at me", a voice, hollow, cold, said to her. "Look."

Brianna turned her head and let out a muffled scream at the sight of the skeletal face. A gloved hand clamped down over her mouth, further silencing her.

"Be quiet", he told her flatly, his other hand moving down under her skirt, yanking her panties down. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silencer-equippmed pistol.

"I'm going to shoot you...right here", Death cooed, pushing the gun up inside Brianna's little cunt. The girl furiously shook her head. She didn't want to be shot there!

He continued to probe her with the gun, raping her with it now. Scared as she was, she got excited. Her little mind was going around the bend with the sensations it was giving her.

"No, you're much too little to die this way", he told her. "I have a better idea." He pulled the gun out and sat it on the bed next to her.

Suddenly his hands were at her throat, squeezing. Brianna struggled, but given her small size, she was no match for him. In only a matter of minutes she went still.

It was nearly three by the time Marianne got loose. After raping her, the robber had cleaned out the register. Stumbling out to the counter, she slammed the drawer closed and fought back a sob.

The robber had locked the door and put up the closed sign, and Marianne wasn't about to put it back. She wanted to go home now, take a shower, and forget about today.

The back door opened and shut. "Brad?", she asked fearfully, thinking the robber had come back.

"Yeah, it's me", Brad called.

"Oh Brad, we were robbed!", Marianne shouted, dashing into the back. She expected to see Brad standing there, looking concerned, but he wasn't. The room was empty.

"Brad?"

A viselike hand clamped over her mouth, and she felt the cold steel tip of a barrel press against her temple.

A moment later, the side of her head exploded.

June had long since stopped crying. She'd spent the entire day here, locked in her bedroom closet, bound and gagged. Mark had not raped her. He had not hurt her. He had done the worst thing he could do.

He'd let her own mind torture her.

Hours and hours of sitting here, alone, in the darkness. Wondering what he'd do...or what he might be doing.

The door opened. Mark stood over her, grinning from ear to ear. "All right mother, it's time..."

In the silence of midafternoon heat, before the rush hour and the press of the rat race began, Death pulled his car up to the curb and waited, watching through the tinted glass the Harris house.

The street was quiet, but it had always been that way. Today, however, it seemed even more appropriate, standing against a background of gathering clouds heralding the arrival of a summer storm.

How fitting.

He could have ended it here, and now. But that wasn't his way. It would not do. The horror of what he had done, the total impact of it, would be wasted. No, he would bide his time.

He watched the garage door open, watched Mark's car back out. On the seat beside him, a small box began to beep. For the moment, he ignored it, watching Mark turn into the street and drive past him without a second glance.

Starting the engine, he pulled up into the garage and stepped out of the car. He had work to do.

The lid of the trunk popped open. Mark reached in and lifted his mother out, setting her on her feet. June looked around as Mark stepped behind her and began untying her hands. They were someplace out in the country, on a pothole filled paved road surrounded on all sides by fields and a few trees.

Finishing her hands, Mark untied her ankles and removed her gag. "There now, does that feel better?", he asked in a mocking voice.

"What are we doing out here, Mark?", June asked, her voice shaking from exhaustion and fear.

"I thought you could use some exercise", Mark told her, shutting the trunk lid. "A nice walk should help."

June started. "A what? You want me to walk back? We must be fifty miles from town!"

"Ten would be more like it", Mark told her. "Boy, sure is hot today. I'd sure hate to be walking out in this."

June looked up at the sun, already feeling thirsty. "Mark, you can't! I'll never make it."

"Oh, cut the crap. You can always hitch. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? A bad sunburn? Maybe you'll get a little thirsty. Just consider it an object lesson."

"Mark..."

Mark leaned against the trunk and folded his arms. "What? This isn't the freakin' desert. There's lots of shade."

"Your father won't like this."

"Fuck him", Mark snapped. His eyes dropped to his mother's legs, and he rubbed his chin.

June didn't like the look on his face. She took a step back. "Mark, what...?"

"Just wondering...how well you'd walk with only one kneecap."

June swallowed hard. "You wouldn't."

"Oh wouldn't I?", Mark asked, pulling his gun out of his belt. "Tell you what. If you can outrun this bullet, just maybe you won't get shot."

"Mark, don't--"

"I'll count to three. One, two--"

"Mark!"

"Three!"

June took off. There was no place to run, nowhere to hide. But she ran anyway, expecting to feel a bullet come boring into the back of her leg any second. But all she heard was Mark's laughter.

She stopped and turned around. Mark was heading back to the car now. He was leaving her out here.

"Mark, you can't leave me!", June shouted.

"Oh, I can't huh? Well, just watch me!", he laughed...

It was almost over. Just a few more loose ends to tie up, and he'd be done. The rest he'd earned through his cooperation and silence would finally be achieved.

For her.

"Please, Mark, you can't leave me out here!", June pleaded. Then, more rationally, "Your father--I'll tell him."

"No you won't", Mark laughed. "Because he isn't going to be around to tell it to. See, by the time you get back...well, he won't be alive anymore."

June gaped in shock. "You're not..."

"Yes I am", Mark laughed, climbing into the car. "Have a good walk, MOTHER."

He started the engine and pulled out, his mother running after him. It was almost comical, this slight, lovely woman who'd made him this way, was now running after him, totally out of control.

He was still laughing when the car appeared behind her.

It was a big black Caddy, with tinted windows. Fancy car--and it was moving straight at his mother. As if the driver didn't see her--or wanted to run her over.

Without even thinking, Mark hit the brakes. The other car kept coming. He lept out and yelled to his mother to get out of the way.

Too late.

June had only just started to turn when the car hit. She flew through the air, crashing into the pavement right behind Mark's car, her body lying twisted, broken and bloody at his feet.

The other car stopped as well, the driver's door swinging open...

And Death stepped into view.

Mark froze, staring at the hideous skull atop the shoulders, at the rictus grin and the empty, dead eye sockets. It was Death, like in every story he'd ever heard.

Tearing his eyes from the sight of it, Mark lept into the car and took off, flooring the gas. The other driver slowed to swerve around June's body and put a little distance between them.

Mark drove like a madman, ignoring stop signs and squealing around corners in his rush to get away. It was several miles later when he finally looked up in the mirror, half expecting to see the other car closing fast, Death at the wheel.

But it was gone.

He slowed, not wanting to risk attracting a cop, even out here. He had to chill out and think. This was not part of his plan!

Think, think, think. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Okay. First thing was first. He had to get his father out of the way first, like he'd planned. Then come back and get his mother's body and hide it before somebody got suspiscious. Then he'd run, and hide, where the cops and nobody else would ever find him...

"WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!", he shouted, slamming on the brakes so hard the car skidded several feet. "Just wait a damn minute!

This was Death following him! Death! Who could go anywhere, no matter what! Where did he think he could run to? Where could he hide?

"Hold on, Mark, get it together", he cautioned. "Think man, think! If that guy is really Death, he wouldn't need a car, would he? No way! He wouldn't! No way, he's got to be somebody else. He's got to be flesh and blood, man. Just somebody in a mask...but those eyes..." He shook his head. "No way. Just a mask. Whoever it is, he's as real as I am. And that means he can die, right?"

Suddenly he realized how silly he'd look, sitting here and talking to himself, if somebody came along. Worse than that, he was beginning to doubt his own sanity. Taking his foot off the brake, he hit the gas and eased back up to speed.

Okay, first thing was first. He'd take care of the original plan, then handle this. Whoever it was in that mask, he wasn't going to win. If he wanted to play Death, he was going to get a nice, close look at it for real.

He glanced at the dashboard clock. Almost five. His father would be home soon. Mark wanted to get there and be waiting. If Marianne or one of the girls got in the way, it would serve to show them who was in charge.

That brought him back to the here and now. Whoever had hit his mother had done it intentionally; and then they'd come after him! But who? He could think of probably a thousand nameless faces that would want him dead. Parents, uncles, friends, just about anybody connected to one of his numerous victims. Thanks to the mask, he didn't know.

Yeah, but...how did they know he'd be out here? He sure hadn't told anybody, and he hadn't seen anybody following him, either. In fact, this was the first time he'd come out this way in a while! It didn't make sense.

His first thought was to get home. One thing at a time, right? Just handle it one thing at a time.

It was just past five when he pulled up to the house. The front door was locked--a good sign. At least his father wasn't home yet. That would give Mark time to plan. He shoved the door open--

And stopped dead at the sight before him. Arrayed throughout the living room were the girls and Marianne. They all were just sitting there, but there was something very, very wrong.

Because they were all very, very dead.

The stench of death had begun to fill the house already. Mark put a hand over his mouth, feeling sick. Whoever had done this had also killed his mother. It had to be.

He suddenly realized that one other person might just do it. Somebody else who might have a reason.

His father.

It made sense. His father wasn't stable to begin with--and now he'd really lost it. And for all Mark knew, he was already here, waiting...

He turned and bolted, racing out to the car. He had to get away, FAR away, from here. Just as he jumped in, his car phone rang. Quickly he snatched it up.

"Yeah?"

"Mark..."

Mark froze. "Who is this?"

"Mark..."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Mark...help me..."

Instantly he recognized the voice. Max. Master of drugs, Mark's private agent when it came to selling his snuff and porn flicks.

"Max? What the...?"

"You...have to help me...been shot..."

"Who? By who?"

"You have to help me...I can help you...stop him..."

"Max, where the fuck are you?"

"The docks...near the abandoned pier...Warehouse 23..." The phone went dead, the line buzzing in Mark's hand. He slammed the phone down and roared off, heading toward the docks.

Even by day, the docks were a dangerous place, gloomy and filthy, so dangerous even the homeless and the cops stayed away. A rat scurried away as Mark climbed out of the car, his gun drawn.

A figure stepped out of the shadows of a nearby warehouse and hurried toward him. The move was so unexpected, Mark almost shot him, until he saw it was Jimmy Cault. "Mark, man, what are you doing here? Where's your father?"

Mark held up his hand. "He's lost it, Jimmy. He killed them all. Everybody."

"Yeah, I know. First he tells me to go pick up Julie and give her what for, then he says no, don't go, then he calls me again and tells me to go do her brat sister and get lost. Paid me a hundred grand each to do it. I was supposed to meet him here to collect. Weird, man, he never works like that."

Mark scowled. "Never mind that. You armed?"

"Yeah." Jimmy held up the small pistol he'd used to kill Julie. "You think he really killed them?"

"Yeah, my mom too, and now he wants me. I think he got Max here and shot him, too. Only he managed to warn me."

"Shit!", Jimmy swore. "I don't--"

Jimmy suddenly stumbled, a bright red patch blossoming on his chest. For a moment he looked down at it, then collapsed.

Mark dove for cover, unsure of just where the shot had come from. Silenced, no doubt; he hadn't even heard it.

"Looking for me, Mark?", his father called, his voice echoing off of the empty buildings.

Mark crouched low, looking around. "Inside, Mark. Come and get me...if you can."

Keeping low, Mark ran for the door. He was no cop and no soldier, but he'd seen enough TV to get the idea of what to do. The door was open just enough for him to slip inside. Quickly he moved to the shadows, keeping out of sight.

"Oh come on, Mark, you can do better than that", his father taunted. "Poor Max is waiting for you to come help him. But I guess you don't care about that."

"Fuck you!", Mark shouted, dodging out of the shadows and scruncing down behind an old wooden crate. "It's your ass I want! You're fucking nuts!"

"That I am, Mark. And you know why? You made me that way."

Mark looked around, listening. His father's voice echoed, but seemed to come from directly ahead. Keeping to cover, he moved forward, while his father taunted him.

At last he came up to a partially open door, seperating the warhouse into two halves. His father sounded to be just on the other side. It sounded like Max was there too, moaning or something. He couldn't make out the sound; it was muffled.

Spotting movement on the other side, he swung around and opened fire.

One, two, three shots ripped into his father's body as he stood helpless against them. It wasn't until he doubled over against the I-beam he was standing against that Mark realized his father couldn't have been speaking.

Because he was gagged. Somebody had tied him to the I-beam and gagged him. And now, he was dead.

"Nice shooting, Mark", his father's voice said from off to his left. He whirled around and came face to face with Death.

Mark let out a gasp and raised his gun. Death just stood there calmly, then raised one hand, which held a pistol in it, and pulled the mask off his face.

Dressed in a black suit and sunglasses, offset only by his pale white face and hair, Max looked like death himself. He stared at Mark, then held up one hand, showing him a small box he held.

"Like it? It's a neat little toy I picked up. Changes one's voice quite nicely, once you set the pitch and all." He tossed it to the floor at Mark's feet. "It sure fooled Jimmy."

Mark looked from Max to his father. "What?"

"Jimmy carried out his orders perfectly. Just a test, to make sure this worked. He thought I was your father...and so did you."

"It took time, of course, and money, which you so generously provided. All those years I worked with you, soiling my hands to gain precious insight into you. At first, I didn't even know you were the one I sought. But once I found out...it was just a matter of time from there. I began to observe you, all of you. Wiretaps, bugs, hidden microphones. I knew everything that went on. And when the time was right, I began. Your father came first."

Max sighed, folding his hands. He didn't seem to care that Mark was aiming a gun at him. "Brad, it's Max. Look, I think something is up with Mark. Can you meet me down at Warehouse 23 on the docks? It's the only safe place. Thanks." He shrugged. "And he came. Right to me."

"I don't get this shit, Max. What the fuck are you doing?"

"Setting right what went wrong, Mark. Wiping out the damage you've spent the last year creating."

"You killed them all?"

"All but Shannon. My guess would be she lucked out, Mark. A shame, too, I wanted to get her and finish this totally. But I don't think she'll live long enough now for it to matter. At least, not without a family to shelter and support her any longer. She'll probably wind up prostituting herself and dying of some drug overdose someplace. Because of you."

"My mother! How'd you know I'd be out there, Max?"

"Easy. A simple tracking device. I didn't want to lose sight of you, Mark."

"Guess you lucked out. I'm just curious, Max. Why? Money? Power? Somebody hire you, maybe?"

"You want an answer, Mark...but you won't get it. Not until just before you die. Slowly. Very slowly."

"Like hell I will!", Mark shouted, opening fire. Three bullets caught Max in the chest, knocking him flat. He hit the floor hard, his gun clattering away across the cement.

Mark kept squeezing the trigger, but he was out of bullets. Shaking, he slowly lowered the gun. Then started to laugh.

He'd killed his father, like he'd planned--and one upped Max, who was out to kill him! Man, this was too much. Letting out a whoop of triumph, he turned and started through the door.

Something shuffled behind him, and a powerful hand wrapped around his throat. Suddenly he was being jerked back, a thick, foul smelling cloth was jammed over his face.

His vision swam as he grappled with his attacker. Just before he went under he heard Max say, "Bullet proof vest, Mark..."

Mark shook his head to clear it. He was sitting up, he could tell that much. And strapped so tightly into that position he could only move his head. Also, much to his chagrin, he was...naked.

A rat scurried across his line of vision, then darted away as Max appeared from the shadows. "Well, finally awake? Good. You're dead weight when you're out of it."

"What the fuck is this?", Mark asked, wincing a little at the heavy leather straps holding him in the chair.

"The end, Mark. Welcome to the Chair. You've been charged, tried and convicted by a jury of One. Me. And as judge, I sentence you to death."

Despite his predicament, Mark wasn't afraid. Not yet, anyway. "Bullshit. If I disappear, you're going to have a lot of explaining to do, Max. Sooner or later the cops'll find out."

"Oh, I know that, Mark", Max sighed. "In fact, I've arranged for them to do just that. In the meantime, I'd like you to see something."

Reaching inside his jacket, he removed his wallet, and from that, a snapshot.

Max held the picture in front of Mark's face. It was a picture of a girl in a scout uniform, a little girl of about seven. "Recognize her, Mark?"

Mark nodded. The first girl he'd ever snuffed on film. He remembered doing it.

"She was my daughter, Mark. Michelle. Missy, she liked to be called. Just seven years old. One day, she went out to sell cookies...and never came home. I remember when they found her body. After the rats had gotten to it. I lost it then, Mark. Lost it." He sighed. "It took me a long time to find out what happened to her. I lost my wife over it, Mark. She couldn't take it. Put a gun in her mouth and blew her brains out." He hefted his pistol. "This gun. I thought it would only be fitting to use it now." He smiled, the first smile Mark had ever seen on his face. It was NOT pleasant to see.

"So do it then", Mark hissed. "You got me, do it!"

"Can't", Max stated. "No bullets."

Mark laughed. "Ha! So what are you going to do now, huh? Huh?"

"Oh, something very special, I've been saving just for you, Mark. Tell me, have you ever seen the movie 'The Serpent and the Rainbow'?"

"Why--yeah, I saw it", Mark answered, feeling a LOT less cocky than he had a second ago. "W-Why?"

"Remember the scene when they have the doctor strapped down in the chair, and the witch doctor wants him to scream?"

Mark swallowed hard. "Yeah."

Max turned to the table behind him and picked something up. Turning around, Mark could see he now held a mallet and a long, thick iron spike.

"I want to hear you scream, Mark."

Mark had scene the movie, and he sure didn't have to repeat any of the lines. He was already screaming. Max grinned, looking not unlike death. He pressed the tip of the spike against Mark's left nut.

"Not good enough, Mr. Harris", he said, mimicking the man in the film.

And brought the mallet down.

EPILOGUE

The gates to Restful Groves cemetery normally stood closed at midnight, but Max paid them no heed, driving his car straight through them. Even in the darkness, he had no trouble finding the grave.

He shut the car off and climbed out, climbing the low hill to the grave. By the light of the full moon he knelt and read the stone in front of him.

MICHELLE TIFFANY MAXMILLEN, 1977-1984

THE LIGHT OF OUR LIVES

TAKEN FROM US BEFORE HER TIME

REST IN PEACE OUR BELOVED DAUGHTER

A small laugh escaped Max's lips. Max. Maxmillen. Mark had never known. He doubted, seriously, Mark had ever known Tiffany's last name. Nor had he ever cared.

"He's gone, honey. You can rest now", Max said quietly. "He'll never hurt anybody again."

Settling back on the ground, he pulled the gun out of his pocket. He'd lied to Mark about there being no bullets. There was one left.

As he lifted the gun to his temple, Max briefly wondered what, if anything, would become of Shannon Harris, the only survivor. He guessed it didn't matter anymore.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the stone, he cocked the hammer.

And joined the darkness.

The End