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Old 04-10-2014, 08:36 PM   #1
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Default An Officer's Last Night Out - a snuff story

Alright, first off, this story is heavy on torture and blood along with the rape. it is not mild. so you've been warned.
secondly this combines the ideas for the torture device by captive soul with ambush predator's desire for tortured cops. so those of you who continue, hope you enjoy!
ps. as a note, no, snuff this hardcore will not be common in my stories, but i wanted to experiment with something "hostel" like. so this is that experimentation.

******

Allison drags her feet on the floor, choking as she is dragged by the chain hooked to her neck. The leash at her throat tightens as she is pulled and she can only writhe against the bonds holding her, the bowler cap on her head, squashed down flat on her forehead, sweat sticking to her face and dripping down her forehead. She can barely see, but what she can see terrifies her. She coughs, her cheeks puffing out with each hacking gasp, her shoes scuffing against the highly polished wooden floor.
This is almost a battle in futility considering how there are two men holding her at either arm, pushing her forward. Still, she resist as best she can.
While the man in front of the audience can be considered laughable in his tailored tux with large great top hat and small white gloves, the speaker on loud, directed towards the highly extravagant audience in their gowns and suits, the device at the center of the room is anything but.
The device, a wooden table in the shape of an “X” with several belts along the length of it, looks as if it were stained with red blood and Allison Dranger does not want to experiment in the uses of the machine. She struggles against the men holding her, pushing her shoulders back against them, trying to dislodge herself. It seems foolish, even to her, but if she can somehow delay what she is certain will come...
Allison Dranger is, was, an officer of the British police. A rookie at 23, but wishing to pull her own weight. She’d been called on a simple domestic dispute in the backwoods of the city. But when she’d arrived, she’d found everyone to be overly cordial. There was no dispute. In fact, everyone seemed overly civil and interested in her. It was as if they’d known she’d be the one responding to the call...
Then everything had gone black as someone had clubbed her in the back of the head and she’d found herself in a small cell, a dog kennel almost, sitting on a hard metal bench, water dripping from the leaky pipe overhead. Her hands had been bound in tough leather and a gag had been pushed in between her teeth, forcing her jaws painfully wide apart. A bowler cap that was too large had been pushed down on her head and tightened beneath her jaw. Her belt and tools had been taken away, even her badge.
She’d waited for what seemed like hours until a man in an executioner’s mask had come for her, his body large and imposing. He’d brought the leash and after slamming her against the wall, tied the dog collar around her neck and pulled her out of the kennel.
And now she is here. The first man with a mask having been joined by a second, and she seemingly powerless to stop their advances. The men hold her fast between them, jerking her head back, tongues trailing over her neck and arms, hands running down over her sizable D cup breasts. Cupping them and squeezing them tight. She shuts her eyes and bites down on the gag, moaning.
Hands squeeze and mold the flesh of her breasts and she can only moan piteously behind the gag, drool trailing down her chin. Then one of the men is grabbing roughly at the white blouse of her uniform, grabbing handfuls with both hands and pulls, splitting the garment open, buttons flying out across the stage. The crowd gasp. Cheers go up along with applause and ruckus laughter.
Allison’s face burns red with shame. She would move to cover her exposed breasts but with her arms tied back painfully, she is next to powerless to stop it. The men continue to mold her breasts between them, the one before her slapping her right breast roughly. She groans and his friend crushes both breasts in his grip, pushing them out towards his friend. The man answers by slapping them again, the sound ringing loudly in Allison’s ears along with the sparks of pain.
Then again. The hand comes down on her bosom, making her flesh jiggle with each blow and then is slapped again. Allison strains against the second man’s grip as the first goes about abusing her tits, his blows on her breasts getting harder and louder, the stinging pain rushing up Allison’s head. Those on the stands, seated around the spectacle applaud and cheer.
Then it all stops suddenly and the crowd seems to go quiet. Allison can only shake in fear, her breasts now red with the pain of her injuries. Her heart beats with dread and she waits for the inevitable pulling of the chain, the men dragging her to the twisted contraption before her, but it does not come and she wonders, why?
Whispers begin in the audience and Allison turns, seeing a man striding forward in a white half mask, looking like something out of a kabuki show. The mask resembles that of a fox, she thinks, but she’s not sure. The man stares down at her through thin slits in the smiling mask, his eyes narrowed. There is a gleam behind his brown eyes she can see and it makes her shiver.
Save for a pair of black rubber gloves and a black Speedo, the man is fully unclothed, his body bare to the world. Thin and lanky with thinning hair, his skin a yellowish gold. An Asian of sorts, she thinks.
He seems to pull out something from behind his back, tucked into the Speedo and Allison screams when she sees the object, writhing within the arms of the two men. Their fingernails dig into her shoulders, and strong arms push her down onto the floor, knees banging against the wood panels roughly. She whimpers, a sharp pain rushing up her knees.
She shuts her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that the man before her has a knife. He is only going to cut her bra away, she thinks. Humiliate her further. Rape her. He’ll...
She hears the flick of the blade, feels the man leaning down and gripping her right breast painfully. She opens her eyes, looking at him, pleading in her muffled voice. Then the blade moves down towards her chest, the point sliding down the right side of her breast and digging in. She screams.
The men hold her as she bucks against them. The blood rolls down the side of her breast as the blade cuts deeply into her flesh, sliding down it like a twisted finger. The men grip her from beneath her chin, cupping it and hold her head back, nearly choking her in their grip. Her veins bulge along her neck as she screams but she is powerless against the cruelties of the men before her.
She feels the man with the kabuki mask grip her left breast and whimpers, knowing what is to come. It does little to lessen the pain as it comes through clearly, the pain receptors rushing up her brain, handing it dialogue and patterns within the neural network to analyze. And all of them say the same thing. Back away from the danger. And she can not. She can only sit back and let the man mutilate her breasts for his own twisted pleasure.
She cries against the men as they hold her, feels as the thin man grips her left breast brutally, drawing more blood with his wicked blade, sliding it down her tender flesh. When he finishes he wipes what blood has come away on his fingers, licking them. He then slaps her breast painfully, once, twice. The wound makes the pain sharper and she moans piteously against her captors. The audience seems to be whispering, like bugs in the background, but all Allison knows now is the pain radiating through her tit flesh. She whimpers, the pain against her breasts feeling fresh and new.
She’d never thought in all her years that someone would be so malevolent as to purposely injure her breasts with a knife. It is just too cruel.
The man whispers something to one of the executioners and the man nods. Slowly he peels away his leather gloves and takes a pair of mesh wire ones from the executioner. Allison can only stare wide eyed, wondering what exactly the man plans to do.
He pulls down the edges of his speedo and his member springs free, swinging forward, its head thick and bulbous, precum dribbling from the end. Stepping out of the speedo, he grips both her breasts tightly and Allisons bucks, feeling his fingers dig into the wounds along either side of her breasts.
The men behind her chuckle and she can hear laughter among the chorus of the crowd. She whimpers, wondering how people can be so cruel?
She feels the man’s member sliding between her two large globes, the slimy precum wetting the center of her breasts. The man squeezes her large breasts around his manhood, crushing them together so they wrap around tightly against his long shaft, the wire mesh cutting into her tender flesh. She whines against her two captures, rotating her shoulders, pushing her body back against them, but they simply laugh.
Pulling her jaw back, one grins down at her. “You think this hurts, you bitch? This is just foreplay! Wait until we get to the real action!”
His cheeks bulge and Allison realizes he’s going to spit on her but is unable to move away. The spit slaps down against her right cheek, sliding down the strap of her helmet, making it feel uncomfortably moist. Tears stream down Allison’s cheeks. What has she done to deserve this?
Through it all the Asian man has continued thrusting against her chest, his initial actions, slow and tentative at first as he fixed his position and got himself properly placed for fucking her. She’d barely noticed as he’d fucked her chest, the pain almost a shadow to her fear.
Now, as his thrust get more rapid and excited, his hands dig into her breasts, nails trying to dig into her flesh causing the mesh to tear at her tender tits. “Agh, you’re hurting me!” or at least she tries to say this but it comes out as a muffled sound causing the large men to chuckle, their massive bellies jiggling against her back and head.
She realizes it will do little good and simply bears with it as the Asian man continues to abuse her chest, the blood leaking down from the sides of her breasts warm and sticky. She can feel how slimy his own penis gets as a trickle of blood manages to get between her breasts and thinks how disgusting it is that even while hurting her this man is continuing to get harder. Then he is jerking on her chest suddenly, making her howl as the mesh scrapes away at her skin, the man’s groans becoming louder until he finally climaxes.
She feels the first hot spurt hit her beneath the chin then another against her sternum. The man holding her lets go of her throat, some of the hot cum having hit his fingers. He rudely wipes it across her shoulder while the Asian continues to drain himself between her round orbs, his member slowly going limp between her tits as the hot liquid drains down the center of her tits. He gives her breasts a few final jerks before pulling away from her chest, wiping the final dredges of his cum on her right breast.
His eyes gleam with malice, his hand running down her chest, brushing against her scratched flesh almost fondly. Then he is grabbing her bra, ripping it away so her breasts flop out from their confines and continues to pull and jerk, stretching the cotton material until the straps on her white bra snap.
She barely notices as the man pulls it close to his face, sniffing it and wipes his hands away on the material. The humiliation is too much and she tries to turn away, feeling all the people in the audience gawking at her massive orb with their perky pink ends. But it is of no use as the men hold her up, one pushing his knee against her back to push out her breasts, flaunting them to the crowd.
The crowd gasp and cheers, hands clapping in chorus. Allison moans in futility, the knee against her back grinding against her spine. The Asian man, she sees, rubs away at his dick with her once white bra, now stained red and torn in several places. He rubs it slowly, almost as if he is working himself into heat again and is going to cum again. But instead he turns around and walks back into the crowd disappearing into the midst of people. Too many people, she thinks, the sweat trickling down her body, large breasts heaving. How can so many of them be so depraved and sick?
“Well,” says the man before her, jerking her up by the chain on her neck, making her gag as she scrabbles to her feet. “That’s the end to the foreplay. Now we’re gonna’ get to the real show!”
Allison’s eyes widen, her fear making her heart beat rapidly in her chest. The man before her smiles, a wide showing of a his yellowed teeth. He grips her right breasts, twisting it savagely in his grip. Allison jerks back, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The man laughs, pulling her forward by her tender abused tits and runs his tongue along the edge of her neck. “Yeah bitch,” he whispers, “this is only gonna’ get rougher.”
He grabs a handful of her hair, jerking her head back. “You’re a pretty one, for a cop. Too bad really.”
The one holding her turns to the other. “Get those slacks off. She won’t be needing em anymore!”
Desperation surges through Allison as the large beefy man approaches her, his large tits swinging with his movements. With a sudden energy she turns and kicks the man in the groin as hard as she can as he draws near. The man topples over in a moment, cupping his manhood.
The other stares in shock for a moment giving Allison time to raise her foot and slam it down on his toes. The man yelps loudly, letting go of her hair. She hears clapping and cheering from the crowd but ignores the sounds, instead running forwards, into the audience itslef, simply looking for an exit. Any that might be available to her.
So it is from her fear that she does not notice the one in the tux suddenly come upon her from behind, an electric rod in his hand. The shock under her left tit is as sudden as it is painful. Her back arches with the electrical current, the veins bulging against her neck, eyes going wide, a muffled cry coming from her lips. She falls to the floor with a thud, her body twitching violently.
The man walks slowly towards her and Allison can only stare, breathing raggedly. The clapping in the background rings loudly in her ears, making his words hard to understand as he whispers to her. He says something to one of the other men who turns her over roughly and puts the heel of his boot between her shoulders. Pain shoots down her spine as the man grinds his boot into her back while the other moves towards her hips, gripping the belt of her pants and quickly undoes it.
Allison struggles, writhing beneath the large men, kicking out futilely but she has waited too long and both men overpower her easily. One of them jerking her legs back and pulling her slacks off, ripping her boots off with them so they thump on the floor. She hears the tearing of cloth and watches from the corner of her eye as her slacks are violently pulled off her body, ripped in shreds and jerked off callously. Her panties soon follow with one violent tug, pulling between her cunt lips, making her whimper behind her gag.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” says the one in the tux, spreading one arm wide. “We’ve had our foreplay! Now... it’s time for the real entertainment to begin!” And Allison can only whine beneath the boot of the man who holds her, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Take her over to the table gentlemen,” says the man in the tux, as the two men lift her to her unsteady feet. She is now fully naked except for the bowler hat that falls over her eyes, obscuring her vision. Sweat drips down her body, dribbling down the curves of breasts, the blood now clotted in their wounds.
“And this time,” says the one in the tux lunging towards her, zapping her underneath her right breasts this time, making her arch her body suddenly against one of the large men, her body straining, breasts flopping as she lets out a horrendous scream. “Don’t lose her,” he says as she falls forward, held up only by the strength of the large man behind her, holding her up by the shoulders and one meaty hand around her wrists. Her body feels like gelatin and is too weak to actually move.
The man in the tux lifts her chin up with the electric point of the rod, looking at her. He has deep blue eyes on a face lined with light wrinkles, a thin mustache covers his upper lip. She’d say he looks kindly if she didn’t know what he was about. The whole of her body shivers as he looks her over, inspecting her with a dark look almost as if she were cattle. “Very well, then,” he says. “You may unshackle her now. I don’t think she’ll be putting up much fight for a bit.”
The one behind her kicks her down and grabs her wrists, jerking her arms up and quickly tears the bindings off. “No funny business, bitch,” says the large man, pulling her hair back and then pushing her head forwards again as he tosses off the shackles, letting them clatter against the wooden floor. She’d think this would be the perfect opportunity to up and run, except she is winded and her vision is blurry, sweat dripping into her eyes making them sting. So she has little in the way of fight when the pair of men grab her arms and drag her across the stadium towards the table shaped like an “X.”
As she gets closer she can see the red stains more clearly. There is dried blood at the center of the table and by where her hips would be as well as at the ends of each X. The stench coming off of the table is strong, smelling of bile, shit and urine. Small slivers jut out of the wood from between the dried blood making her wonder what exactly was done in those areas. She is turned over, placed on her back, her arms stretched across the two overhead bars. She feels the slivers bite into her back and buttocks, into her legs and thighs, the dried blood rubbing off on her body.
She shuts her eyes, feeling her arms pulled taught and twisted around so her palms are flat against the wood. She groans as her arms are stretched out but hasn’t woken up enough to fight. She simply tries to adjust her body, pushing up on her legs as her shoulders cry out in agony. She feels the leather straps at the ends tied around her wrist and pulled painfully tight.
It’s when the fingers on both of her hands are stretched out as well, pushed in between clamps that tighten to the point her finger joints are screaming that she turns her head to ask what they’re doing. Though all that comes out is a muffled murmer. She can see her fingers being stretched out. Her thumb, pinkie and first digit are stretched out and locked in small metal clamps that are squeezed tight. Only the two middle fingers on her left hand are left free. On the right she can see all of them are stretched out painfully making it feel as if her hand is going to split open. And the movement she has in her left fingers is limited, coming up against three large buttons. She hadn’t seen those when they’d first dragged her here. One orange, green and red. She wonders what they’re for and why she is being allowed access to them?
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Old 04-10-2014, 08:37 PM   #2
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The man in the tux walks up, tapping his cane against the hard wood and smiles. “Ah, I suppose you wish to know what we are doing?”
“Grrph!” she grunts, feeling the pain racing down her arms from her stretched finger joints. She tries to look up at the man in the tux but has to raise her head up as it is not supported by any spot of the table except for a small stiff wooden piece that bites into the nape of her neck so that her head is instead falling over the edge of the table. Looking up with her arms turned as they are is difficult and yet resting her neck over the edge of the table is no more comfortable.
“Hands are ready,” says one man.
“Good,” says the man in the tux, “get her legs stretched out as well. Our clients should have access to all the choice bits.”
Both men move methodically over to the edges of her body and Allison begins to kick out violently, aiming her blows at the faces of the men, who struggle to grab at her feet. No, she thinks as one grabs her left foot and she kicks the side of his face. She won’t let herself be raped and tortured. She won’t!
It is then that she notes from the corner of her eye as the electric rod descends upon her and has only a moment to scream before the rod digs into her left nipple, sending a violent electric shock through her body. She jerks and shudders against the table, coughing violently as the current passes through her. Her body writhes in its spasms, twisting to and fro out of her control. The men at either end of her legs take advantage and grab hold.
The points of the rod are dug into the side of her neck, just under her jaw. “And here I thought you were learning to be a good girl,” says the man in the tux. Allison whimpers, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Well that’s all right,” he says, digging the points into her jaw. “After all, this program is one about punishment. So lessons will be learned!” Allison whimpers in fear, her breasts shuddering with her thin gasp.
“Get her spread!” the man orders. Allison feels her legs suddenly jerked wide apart, her vagina spread in such a lude way as to be quite exposed to the audience. This time, though; she does not fight, too fearful of the rod against her neck. Straps are tightened about her ankles and the base of her feet, holding her stretched out in the obscene position, her breasts pushed out to the onlookers around her. As she turns her head she sees a bevy of cameras pointed in her direction from above attached to the ceiling and can only wonder what the audience is seeing. Only now can she recall as she ran towards them that they had some long boxes like computer terminals before each of their seats. Could this be why? So each could be privy to her suffering?
What do they have planned for her? What are they going to do to her?
To add to the humiliation, between the rows of cameras are two large mirrors, letting Allison look at her own body, pulled taught as it is, her breasts bleeding from her earlier abuse. It is something to hurt her mentally she thinks, nothing more. But it is having the desired effect and she is having difficulty controlling her fear.
Her breathing suddenly grows quicker as the men gather around her chest, crouching beneath her and jerking at something metallic, like wire, she thinks. It soon becomes apparent it really is wire as the long mesh is pulled across her chest and pulled down over her breasts. The barbs dig into her tender skin and she struggles, twisting left and right as the barbs are tugged down against her breasts.
“Oh, my dear,” says the man in tux, tapping her tit with the rod. “It’s a little late to struggle now. You’ll only damage yourself further.” She begins to sob, her head hanging over the table, feeling as the men jerk the wiring over her body, pulling and tugging at it so it cuts her flesh, one of the men cursing as the barbs cut his hands through the gloves.
After a few minutes she feels the wire begin to tighten above her breasts. “You’ve got it locked now?” ask the man.
“Yes sir,” says the man to their right. “Damned stuff cut my hand!”
“Yes,” says the man, gripping Allison’s left breast through the wire and roughly begins to tug it in between the two ends of wiring, cutting her breast along the barbs. “Well that happens when you wear shoddy material I suppose.”
“Fuck you,” she hears the man murmur but doesn’t pay more attention as she cries out, feeling as her breast is left to fall against the barbs, now scratched and bleeding. The man begins to pull at her right now, repeating the process of tugging and pulling to get it between the wires. She can only wonder what it is they really plan to do now that they have her pinned down to the table like this? She soon finds out it is hardly the end to her prepping.
“Tighten the wire two more rotations,” says the man, making Allison cry out as she feels the wiring starting to tighten about her tender flesh. The wire bites into her flesh, barbs jabbing at her breasts and ribs, drawing blood. The man taps her breasts where it rest on the wire with his rod and grins. “Good,” he says. “Now prep her cunt.”
“Gghh... nnnggg...” she murmurs through her gag, straining to lift her head and pleading at the man with her eyes. He runs his hand through her hair, cupping her cheek lightly.
“You’re bought and paid for, my dear. We must prep you for the buyers.”
Her breathing increases as she hears the chains being drawn out and pulled. She watches on the mirror above her and can see that these are chains with heads split into three hooks on each end.
“No.no.no.no.no.no,” she murmurs, shaking her head back and forth as the men bring the hooks towards her vagina. She feels on of the men tugging at the flesh of her cunt lips and watches as one hook is drawn near the folds of her flesh. When the hook pierces her skin she screams, bucking against the chain as the hook bites into her most tender of meat.
She feels a rough slap on her cunt and gasp as the feeling makes itself known in her mind. “That hurt bitch?” says the man at her hips. “Too bad!”
He lowers his head and spits on her cunt, then begins to tug at her flesh again. The second does likewise with her left side and Allison can do little but strain against her restraints as each hook is driven into her cunt lips. She thinks the pain is over at least when the hooks are all in place. She couldn’t be more wrong.
The men hadn’t loosened their grip on the chains as they hooked them, but as the last ones were put in place, the men released their grip, letting the chains slap against her, the chains rolling back into the mechanism from where they were drawn, hooks pulling at her flesh. And Allison screams.
The pain as her most tender flesh is stretched apart is agonizing, and she winces, unable to think properly, only sucking in more air to begin to scream once more. It’s because of this she does not notice until her screams are choked off by the strap being tied around her neck, pulled against the base that is at her nape. Her eyes bulge, the pain at her hips temporarily forgotten as the strap is tightened against her throat. The leather digs into her neck, her veins bulging.
She sees herself above in the ceiling, tied down now, straps, wires and chains pulling at her body. She is helpless.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” says the man in the tux. “In a minute I will start the machine. As you can see, our lovely young officer is tied in tightly to the contraption. Her crucifix! On her right hand is a small panel of three buttons. After I start the machine, holding those buttons will stop the machine wilst the buttons are held down! But our officer can only stop two of them!
The red button will keep her throat from being crushed! The orange keep her breasts from being shorn off and ribs gored! And the green will keep her cunt from turning into so much ground meat! But she can only choose two! So which will she choose!?”
Allison stares in shock. They are planning to kill her! What’s worse is they are going to break her mind, making her choose how she will die. Only two she realizes, seeing the buttons to her right now, too far apart for her to choose more than two and too large as well. She begins breathing more quickly, realizing this.
“And in case you thought you’d be getting bored just by watching our lovely civil servant’s choices...”
He makes a grand gesture as a cart is wheeled over on which several instruments ranging from hooks, nails, to a blow torch are laid out before her. “How about you do things of which she has no control over?”
Oh gods, she thinks. Not only were they planning to kill her slowly but they were planning on making the torture worse by letting the audience inflict it as well.
“Now ladies and gentlemen,” says the man in the tux. “Put in your votes and send your bids. You can always choose to fuck our lovely officer or torture her or both! Whatever your twisted mind wants! It’s all up to you.” Those last words are said in such a way that send a dread fear down Allison’s spine, her bowls loosing themselves as she finds herself pissing on the floor, her piss creating a large puddle on the ground.
“Looks like the lovely lady is so eager to get started she pissed herself!” says the announcer. The crowd laughs. Allison can only hear her heart beating rapidly, eyes wide as she looks down on herself, at the buttons on her right. Then the machine whirs into motion and she finds herself out of time...

The machine whirs to life and Allison begins to feel the pain on her body begin to get greater. The wires over her chest begin to bite down into her flesh, grinding into her ribs, the barbs digging in with their sharp teeth and start to pull. The strap at her throat begins to squeeze tighter making it harder to breathe and the blades at her pussy begin to tug at her tender meat pulling it apart.
Allison stumbles with her prone fingers, eyes wide, chest heaving up and down quickly, fingers fumbling over the buttons and she pushes two down. The barbs at her chest stop moving and the chains lay flat against her hips, but still, the machine whirs, the leather at her throat squeezing. She grits her teeth and begins to move her fingers over to the one at her neck soon realizing she can’t push the one at her hips and neck at the same time. So she’ll either be split open or asphyxiated. This crosses her mind quickly as she begins to move her fingers over when someone grips her head suddenly, pulling her head back sharply, nearly banging her neck against the hard wood base.
A large man with thick patches of burly hair running over his body, man boobs hanging down so his flaccid pink nipples face her. His face is almost without neck, thick slabs of meat hanging over his cheeks and chin like melted wax, his bald dome shining under the hot lamps. But the worst part is his eyes. Small and dark, as if looking down at her like nothing more than raw meat to be eaten.
“Always wanted to choke out a copper,” says the man.
“Nggg...” she whispers, gurgling the noise behind her gag, her fingers slipping from the panel, barbs beginning to cut into her flesh, grating against it again while the cold hooks slowly begin to tug at her labia once more. “Pease...” she hisses.
The backhand stings loudly against her face, her cheek burning suddenly. “Fucking copper,” he says, slapping her again, splitting her lip against the gag. “How many times I see a whore like you in yer fancy dresses, always lookin’ down on me cuz I’m overweight? Well...”
The obese man raises his foot and pushes the ball of his foot into the opening of her gag, her tongue pushing against the hard wrinkles, tasting the fungal cream and powders on it. “How ‘bout you lick my foot while I beat yer’ fat tits in, cunt?” he hisses.
She coughs against the gag, her tongue trying to push futilely against the man’s foot, her neck straining, veins bulging, head being pushed back against the head board. Drool and slobber run down her cheeks, her cheeks bulging as she coughs against the foot in her mouth. She cries, her chest wracked with sobs, her large breasts swinging, the machine temporarily forgotten.

The large man smiles, tugging at the woman’s left breast. It expands so nicely, so full and rich, he thinks. It makes him happy and at once angry. Angry at all the rejection and heartache he’s had to endure at the hands of women like this. In his anger he crushes the woman’s nipple between his thumb and index finger, licking his upper lip as he feels her flesh resist his strength. How long? How long has it been since he’s wanted to fuck a woman like this? But no matter how much money he’d throw at these women they’d always shun him, always laugh at him behind his back! Always mocking him!
He does not even notice when he picks up the lash, his hand shaking. Doesn’t notice that it’s one with a razor lining the edge or notice when he raises his hulking arm and brings it down for the first blow with brutal force. But the woman does. Her body reacts suddenly, jerking as the lash rips through the pained flesh of her breasts. She shrieks against his heel, her tongue pushing against the bottom of it, back arching and breasts rising, giving him an even better target to lash out against.
The man grins. “You like that, did you?” he hisses, a small pride at making the woman wail making him feel mighty. “Well here’s another!” The lash comes down again and he watches as a thin line of red appears on the woman’s large bosom. This is soon followed by more lashes. Each blow creating a red etching against her flesh. His arm comes down again and again, those large breasts swinging back and forth, dotting his arm with spots of red as each lash comes down. “You like that?!” he yells. “Huh!? Huh!?”
The woman only answers with a gurgling shrill cry from beneath his foot her body straining and making it an even more inviting target. He continues for several minutes, the woman’s screams lulling him, her fingers flexing and twisting. But soon, he is sweating, his pits chaffing, and water stinging his eyes. He wipes at it roughly and looks towards the woman’s limp tits, now red and raw with his beatings. It makes his member hard, to see her body shuddering, quivering like this. He grins, hearing the crowd around him clapping, their joy at the woman’s suffering palpable, cheering him on. Now he is the one making her suffer instead of the other way around.
He takes his heel out of woman’s mouth, finally allowing her to breathe. She sobs loudly, her breasts awash with fire, blood running down her chest. “You like that whore?” he growls, gripping her head. “Well now you’re gonna’ pleasure me with that filthy mouth of yours! If you aren’t going to give me one hole, you’ll give me another!”

Allison tries to shake her head, to answer him that she’s never been one of these women who have hurt him, but the man’s meaty hands are too thick and hard to let her move her head away and the gag prevents her from saying anything coherent. Though she is uncertain if it would do any good. This man... his eyes bleed of blackness and her breasts can attest to his hatred.
Soon his monster penis is being shoved into her throat between the opening of the gag. It pushes in roughly, slamming into the base, making her gag, writhing against his hips as his member clogs her wind pipe, keeping her from breathing. The hairs on his ball sack push against her nose, his wide member stretching her mouth impossibly wide, cheeks bulging. She coughs, feeling the spittle coming up her nose, mixing with the hairs from his bodies. Her hands slap at the edges of the cross, the machine temporarily forgotten due to her current situation.

“That hard for you?” the man says mockingly, watching her body swing back and forth, slick with sweat and blood. “Breathing that is? Well now, you’ll have to ask me permission to breathe rather than me doing stuff for you!” He grins, hearing the woman shriek around his member. Her nose tickles his balls sending a tingle up his spine, making his member shiver with precum.
He grips her head, feeling her fine supple neck and pulls out slowly, hearing how she gags with such a lovely sound around his cock. He thinks, she probably has never had something so big in her fine mouth. Just a bunch of limp dicked frat boys, no doubt. This thought surges him on and he slams back down into her throat with brutal force, making her grunt in pain, her body writhing. He licks his upper lip, enjoying the action as she struggles and pulls out slowly once more so only the head is inside her mouth before slamming back down again. The woman writhes violently sending a flutter through the man’s insides.

Allison feels something tear in the back of her throat, feels as blood trickles down her lips as the man brutally slams his member inside her throat a third time, his ball sack crushing her nose. She squirms around, feeling something tightening around her neck, suddenly remembering she needs to stop the machine too.
She tries to look over her side, at the buttons and forces herself to look at them as the man brutally fucks her throat, slamming his cock into her sore neck over and over in hard thuds. She makes her fingers reach to the far right, pushing the buttons. She feels the strap on her neck stop, but is unable to hold the one at her chest, the man slamming into her throat making it difficult to concentrate enough to push both buttons down. So it is she feels the barbs continue to dig into her ribs, the hooks at her vagina tugging at her flesh.
She shuts her eyes and cries. Please, she begs mentally. Please stop this!

But whatever gods above or below seem to ignore her request, leaving her to face her tormentor alone. For the man, all he can see is a woman suffering and he begins to remember anew what he has gone through with each of his former attempts at courting one. Feeling an anger burn deep within him, he grabs the underside of the woman’s chin, holding her head back and begins to slam into her face, ramming it over and over in quick rapid succession. He enjoys the view of her, how her veins bulge against her neck, her throat making beautiful gagging sounds as his member thrust deep into her it, creating a large bulge in her throat with each blow.
It brings him such joy to see her suffer this way, to see her breasts swing wildly, slapping against each other with each thrust. He begins pumping into her tender neck even faster, a rhythm building within him of wild frantic excitement, and pushes his thumbs down into the concaves of her throat, making her squirm as she finds herself unable to breathe because of something new.

Allison can barely breathe, her nose trying to catch breaths between each thrust and having difficulty in doing so, the man’s piston motions jamming his curling hair slick with sweat into her nasal cavities. Each blow is brutal and she feels her throat expanding with each one, the leather adding a tormenting pain to her breathing while his thumbs dig into the sides of her neck adding a greater pain to what she feels already. From no place can she acquire air and yet from everywhere it seems to be squeezed shut. Her body writhes in agony.
The other pains are forgotten, her fingers slipping from the controls as the man quickens his pace, making the act of breathing all the more difficult. It barely registers in her mind that the belt on her neck is still constricting when the man slams his girth into her face, crushing her nose against his thick overhanging flesh, his testicles pushing into her cheeks. Truthfully she doesn’t even notice the hot wash of cum spilling out into her throat, the gagging reflex making her involuntarily swallow the hot loads. Her body chokes it down, seeking air and finding none...

For the man this has been an intense pleasure, the woman’s lips a fine conductor for his lust. It is unfortunate that she has the gag in place. The plastic makes the feeling of her lips less fulfilling. However; he does note that she’d likely have bitten his member off if she didn’t have it and he just can’t have that.
He pulls out from her mouth feeling the last loads of his semen draining into her throat. A trail of cum still sticks like a string to her lips. He takes his member in hand and wipes the end on her chin, enjoying the thin trail running down her cheek. He looks down on her, expecting some to slide out from her mouth and comes to the realization that she has already swallowed it.
He rubs her cheek almost tenderly, smiling. “Good lil’ slut,” he whispers. “Just like a good copper’, taking all the loads a man shoots.” He slaps her face hard, the sound ringing loudly in the room, but the woman’s eyes remain dull, unresponsive.
A dark image crosses his mind and he prepares his lightening erection. “How about we clean you off, shall we?”
He aims his flaccid member towards her face, her eyes already rolling back, almost drunk. The stream of piss comes out in a thick shower, spraying over first the woman’s chin, over her neck and then down into her nose and over her eyes. She blinks rapidly, snorting out the piss from her nose but gives no other response to being abused in this way.
The man grins, his mind thinking of the other women in his life and imagining it is them strapped down to the table and being pissed on. He slaps the woman across the face half heartedly and lumbers off, pleased with his use of her and feeling like more a man than he has in several years.

Allison’s lips quiver, her eyes tearing up. The urine had made her gag but being able to breathe around it had felt so much better than choking on the man’s cock that she hadn’t resisted. Truthfully, the water had woken her up a bit, bringing her back to consciousness once more, though she is uncertain if that is a good thing or not. She is still in the middle of this horror. That is a reality she can not escape.
The pressure on her throat reminds her, while she can breathe now, that won’t remain true if she remains passive. She raises her head up, still dizzy from the choking the man had put her through, the marks of his fingers clearly felt under her jaw line. Still, she forces herself up. Her survival counts on it.
She looks towards the red button and presses it down, keeping the leather from choking her and is able to press the orange button as well to keep the barbs from tearing her chest further. She cries, the tears running down her cheeks. While she can keep these two from hurting her, the hooks at her hips are still pulling, and it’s beginning to hurt now. It....
“Iiieeeaaaa!” she screams, feeling a hard blow land on her cunt, her fingers instantly losing their grip on the buttons.
“What’s wrong cop?” says a distinctly Negroid voice. “Can’t take a hit?”
She tries to raise her head, to look at the man who has hurt her when a second blow lands on her cunt, smashing down on her clit with brutal force and she shrieks, all coherent thought lost in her agony.
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Old 04-10-2014, 08:38 PM   #3
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The man, a thin black individual with a strong build and great dark dome for his head, looks through his shaded glasses at the white meat placed before him. Beautiful and helpless, spread wide before him, her great mams rising and falling. All his to beat and destroy. He taps her own club against his palm and shakes his head, a shiver running through his body.
Normally he’d fuck the woman’s cunt, but stretched out already as it is, looking like a great wide pink cave, he thinks she’ll hardly feel his rod. But this...
He slams the club down, purposely smashing her clitoris, watching as her eyes bulge and her body arches, red swollen mammeries pushing up, swinging red and raw before him. This. This she can feel. He slams the plastic rod down hard on her body, watching her writhe.
“That hurt bitch?” he says, watching her pleading eyes tearing up, sweaty body twisting in its bindings. “How about this?”
He slams the rod deep into her cunt, ramming it in, making her grunt, head arching back, hips twisting before him. “Yeah..” he says, “bet that stings. Too bad for you.”
He’s surprised. Her cunt is barely able to hold its girth, meaning she’s not quite as stretched out as she initially was, her lips hugging the rod lovingly. He begins pumping her own club in back and forth into her stretching cunt, slamming it in deep. She screams as he feels the rod slam into resistance at the end of her hole. The stage itself is active with life.
He can hear the whispers in the background, different claps sounding out from among the audience. It amuses him, how people are entertained by another’s suffering. Under different situations it could be him in this cop’s place, but with enough money it never will be. He rams the baton one more time into her cunt until he feels her womb starting to give way and pulls it out, slick with lubricative ooze and blood.
It is so bright and red, dripping down the black shaft. It’s almost as if it were a black man’s dick in itself. He runs his tongue over it, tasting the thick iron flavor that comes off of it, and smacks his lips.
It isn’t until he looks up that he notices the woman staring at him, her eyes bulging. “You want some of this?” he ask, looking at her puckered anus, so ignored throughout the entirety of this ordeal so far. The little hole quivering. “Don’t worry, I’ll be getting to that.”

Allison stares wide eyed. Each blow he’d landed on her vagina had been brutal with a horrid pain rushing up her body, but when the man had rammed her own club into her cunt, she’d thought she’d pass out. Unfortunately, this hadn’t been the case and she’d had no choice but to endure the brutality as she’d felt her cervix slammed again and again by a hard and unyielding rod. No man had ever abused her this way before and it made her terrified to know such a one existed.
When he pulls out the rod slick with her blood and begins to lick it, her heart sinks. He is enjoying the destruction of her body as much as any criminal. He says something briefly that she does not understand and puts aside her blood encrusted rod. Then she feels his fingers against the edges of her anus and she shakes, trying to twist out of the man’s grasp, as futile as it is. No man has taken her anus before. As she feels the head of the cock against her puckered hole, she braces herself for the agony.
“Get ready bitch! Here it comes!” says the man hungrily and slams his girth into her tightened sphincter with brutal force, tearing it open in one savage blow. She cries out, her body instantly tightening around his manhood as her body arches, trying to pull away. It is no use of course and the man laughs, pulling out slowly, seeming to enjoy her agonies as he pulls out only to slam back into her once more. It hurts unbearably and she wonders for how long she must endure?

The man loves how tight her hole is, that little puckered hole squeezing his ramrod like a glove. He can feel her pain, how her body quivers with each blow he gives it and it amuses him to no end. His ramrod is getting harder with each shuddering cry from the woman. Even muffled as she is he can tell the pain he is causing her and it brings him great joy.
He feels the blood flowing more thickly into his phallus, the woman’s agonies making him want to take her even more, to abuse her. His thrust become quicker, her anus seeming to greedily suck at his ramrod as he pushes it in and out of her body, fucking her brutally. He piston fucks her, rutting her like a bull, his hips slapping against hers with wild abandon as he leans down and squeezes his hands around her neck, choking her.
He watches her eyes begin to bulge, her face seeming to go blue as he begins to squeeze down and he laughs. “Yeah.. Yeah... cunt. Take it! Take my ramrod into that fucking ass of yours! Take it!”
Her answer is to struggle, writhing underneath him, trying to kick out but unable to do so. He laughs and slaps her bruised tit flesh. “What? Can’t take it?” he says, slapping her luscious orb again. “Well... that’s too fucking bad!”
She sputters as he clamps both his hands around her neck again and begins to ream her asshole once more, slamming into it. He squeezes tight, no longer able to concentrate on her face as he pumps into her more vigorously, his thoughts lost. All he can think is how her anus feels, clenching around his shaft as it is, feeling so nice and wet with her blood.
He thrust roughly into her a few more times, groaning loudly before his heat brings him to climax, his seed spilling all over her insides. He leans down on her, thrusting quickly a few more times to finish himself off and licks the end of her right nipple, sucking up some of the blood. He takes the end and bites down, pulling on it as far as the breast will go before letting it snap back violently making the woman groan.
Slowly he releases his grip on her throat. She is in a fit of coughing, eyes wide like saucers. He withdraws his member, turning to the loud clapping of the crowd and bows, his manhood still erect. If he had this woman to himself he’d probably fuck her pussy too, but that would demand extra payment, and by the time they get around to him again she’ll be too torn apart to be worthwhile. He pushes his shades down so she can look into his eyes and blows her a kiss. The woman simply stares, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Just as he likes them, he thinks. Sad and broken hearted.

The woman strides down the stairs, her hips swaying, the large strap on against her hips dipping up and down and looks at the cop. Her pussy lips are spreading beautifully, the hooks tearing into the fat titted whore’s cunt in a wonderful manner. The cop’s cunt is nice and pink, blood running down the pulled holes that now strain from the hooks. But the cop just looks away, not even pushing the buttons anymore, letting them tighten and squeeze the life out of her. Stupid cunt, the woman thinks, she won’t even fight to keep her life anymore. To amuse me.
She takes out an empty bottle from under the rack of instruments, turning it, inspecting it and feeling satisfied, grabs the base, aiming it at the cop’s extended hole. She grins and slams the bottle deep into the cop’s cunt. The cops’s eyes grow wide, her voice groaning, hands now writhing over the panel. The woman grins.
She is not unattractive herself, but she has never been someone to be said to be beautiful. Her hips are too narrow, breasts too small, arms too thin, face too long. But this cunt.. The woman wonders how often this cop has spread her legs open wide, offered them up to her boyfriends or her superiors to get a promotion. It disgust her how easily women like this get through life. Well then, her promotion here is a come uppance.
She pushes the bottle in deeper, twisting it. “Plzz!” the cop begs, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Stp!”
The woman smiles. “Why?” she says. “Can’t take it? Thought cunts like you always liked men with big dicks? Always bragging about them. Well, here’s a nice big cock up your cunt hole bitch.” She twist the bottle in deeper, slamming the heel of her hand against the base of it so it thumps against the cop’s cervix.
The cop writhes, twisting back, veins on her neck bulging, sweat running down her body. “Stupid bitch,” says the woman, turning back towards the torture rack and picking up the blow torch from the top level. She flips the switch on, hearing the gas push against the nozzle, hot flame coming out in a long line. “Do you really think I don’t know you? People like you?”
The flame lights on the end of the torch as she twist the nozzle, the blue light a beautiful deadly hue. “Well now,” she says, turning around, looking into the girl’s big, wide eyes. “You’re going to see what I do to you big titted whores who are always looking down on me!”
And she lowers the torch, bringing it level with the base of the bottle....

Allison howls, the pain ripping through her body as the bottle heats up, the hooks on the ends of her vagina growing hot incredibly quick, making her flesh sizzle. She screams, bucking wildly, pulling and jerking at the bindings holding her down, spread and helpless. But no matter how much she struggles, how much she writhes, she can only manage to barely tug at the straps holding her, they doing more to hurt her appendages rather than loosen to any degree.
A wail rings out from her lips, Allison unable to comprehend how another woman is willing to put one of her own through such suffering. Neither of the men who had tortured her earlier had decided to put her through such awful treatment and she can only wonder what it is that pushes this woman to such atrocities?
Soon her mind fades, these thoughts replaced by agony. It is all that remains. This horrifying pain that sears through her entire body as her inner thighs begin to boil and blacken around the super heating bottle. Even after the flames die out her body continues to tug violently at the bonds, the bottle no less hot than when it was being heated, her cunt lips feeling like they’ve melted around the hot bottle.
She watches as the woman walks towards her and tries to pull away from her, straining against the binds. The woman chuckles and leans down, stroking her hair lightly with her hand, looking almost kindly, except none of it reaches the woman’s eyes.
“Ah, poor thing,” the woman says. “Maybe you haven’t fucked around with every single creature who has a stick between his legs?” the woman says, cupping Allison’s left tit painfully between two painted nails.
“Please...” Allison tries to say.
“And maybe you haven’t spent hours working on your nails either?”
Only now does Allison notice the pliers in the woman’s free hand, her other hand now running over Allison’s own, over the very buttons she needs to push to keep herself from dying. “Ngggg..” she says as the woman strokes her fingers, and Allison shakes her head in denial, fear making her jerk at the bond which barely gives.
“Poor thing,” says the woman with malice in her tongue. “It must hurt to be so beautiful.” The pliers dip under the middle finger and close down on the nail, the woman’s hand pressing down on Allison’s hand to keep it still. The pliers begin to pull up, the nail crunching beneath and Allison finds herself screaming.

The woman looks upon the cop with a dark mirth. How she has longed for this, to hurt one of these uppity sluts who parade their bodies around like so much ornamentation, sticking out their large asses and flinging out their large breasts like they are so much better than she. Now it is her turn to flaunt her power over one of these women. Now it is her turn to make them hurt!
She relishes how this tart now looks as she pulls up on one of the nails that’s supposed to keep the buttons to her torture pressed down. Purposefully the woman takes her time, pulling the nail up, enjoying it as each sliver of flesh slowly parts, the nail cracking audibly.
The cop strains in her bonds, shrieking, saliva splattering from her upturned mouth. While the pain from the bottle and blow torch were enjoyable for the woman they were also something minor in how little time she was allowed to use them. Sure, she could have kept the blow torch up longer but then she’d have had to pay extra and she’s already paid enough for what she is doing. She’ll just have to enjoy what she has.
The nail finally plucks away, the cop’s finger spurting a surprising amount of blood from the open wound, drenching the button and wood in red fluid. The woman turns the nail over, inspecting it, the red end still dripping and nods, pocketing the nail in a small baggie.
She generally prefers taking teeth to add to her collection, each representing a woman she’s tortured and put in her place, but with that gag in play, teeth aren’t an option. Still, the nails will do. She has a collection of those as well. She leans down, gripping the end of the second nail. “And this little piggy went to the butcher shop...” she whispers to herself, the cop shrieking into her gag through the whole process.
It really is amusing to have a woman like this under her power.

Allison is delusional with pain. Her mind is throbbing with it. She wants it to stop. How the woman has been slow and methodical in withdrawing her nail had been horrid, and now she repeats the process with the second nail. It is too cruel.
Her hips still radiate with fire, the bottle still lodged hot in her loins, hips burning. Compared to that this should be minor, but the woman is so slow, so deliberate in the twisting and tugging of the nail that Allison can barely think. Every pull, every twist sends a spike of pain racing through her nervous system, making her writhe futilely on the table.
Allison sucks in a breath of air to scream anew and finds something tightening on her throat. She forgot! The leather is still squeezing her neck and it has gotten tight enough that breathing is becoming difficult.
“Oh,” the woman says, with mock surprise now noticing Allison’s bulging eyes, shallow gasp escaping her lips. “It seems that neck brace is getting tight. How unfortunate.”
The woman strokes Allison’s cheek, smiling. “We should get started with the fucking then, before you expire, shouldn’t we?”
Allison stares, her eyes pleading, but the woman merely circles around, leaving the pliers where they are with her half pulled nail straining on the end of her finger. The woman strokes Allison’s neck, grinning, and jerks her neck back, thrusting the dildo on the strap on into Allison’s throat suddenly.
Allison jerks, the tightness on her throat such that she has no space to take the massive instrument into her neck without the insides tearing. The woman doesn’t seem to care. She thrust the thick device into Allison’s throat savagely and Allison feels as much as hears something crack. She wails against the woman’s strap on, drool and blood dripping down into her nose, her body thrashing on the table.

The woman grins, pulling out slowly, then slamming back in, then back out and back in. She repeats the process, watching as the woman struggles on the table, jaw stretching and neck bulging, her large breasts swinging back and forth, now purpling from the wire. She wonders...
Turning her lips into a pout, she sighs and calls over the man in the tux while keeping her plastic phallus lodged deep into the cunt’s throat. She tells him what she wants and the man grins. It’s expensive.
Sighing, she agrees and has him wheel over the table.

Allison gags against the woman’s strap on, buried so deep into her neck she can feel it against her collar bone, blood and drool slipping from her cracked lips and running down into her nose. She moans, trying to cry out around the strap on, the blood and leather making it hard to breathe. Her jaw feels dislocated on the right side and hurts with each thrust made by the woman. She wonders when the woman will stop fucking her mouth?
Then suddenly... she does.
She wonders why? What kind of torture does the woman have planned for her, for it can’t be mercy. She would not stop to help her if she is leaving that painful strap on lodged into her throat, each movement and twist making Allison squirm.
She hears whispering, but can’t define what it is. The pain in her throat is simply too much to allow her to think properly or concentrate on something so menial as whispers. Added with the pain that still radiates up her loins, it’s all she can do to keep from passing out. Still...
She hears something lifted off the table and feels as the woman touches her breasts, softly, almost sweetly. It fills her with dread, her body stiffening with the touch. Tenderness is always a prelude to pain. It always is. Then she hears the whirring electrical noise above her and she begins trying to scream.

The woman smiles, feeling her lips part and grin spread, her heart racing wildly. The cop’s tits are so large and soft, even after being abused as they have been. She feels them, holding the right, the nipple hard and erect. Fucking cunt is probably getting off on this, she thinks. Well, we’ll see if she can get off on this!
She raises the electric drill with the long nine inch end and flips the switch on, watching as the bladed point begins to spin quickly, making a loud grinding noise. “Now let’s get these fat tits of yours pierced, shall we?” she whispers. The woman beneath her is moaning, shrieking, but she doesn’t worry, leaning forward more to get better placement on her hips while being able to hold the breast in a more proper position.
The cop is shaking, crying, but with the woman leaning as she is the cop can’t really move. Pity for her.
The woman lowers the drill slowly, aiming it towards the upturned nipple and begins pushing the bladed point down. The effect is almost immediate. Bits of flesh and skin begin to splatter, chunks spraying with hot blood.
As the drill digs all the way down, the flesh sizzling around the base, the woman finds herself surprised at how the bag of flesh manages to hold together. True, the nipple itself was obliterated but the rest of the meat seemed to hold together decently. She withdraws the drill in reverse, eliciting another scream and wracked shudder from the cop. But she ignores it, instead entranced by the drill itself.
The long blade is covered in blood, dripping, hot and steaming with bits of flesh still clinging to the drill. The woman finds herself giggling, enjoying the reflections of color in the gore and takes hold of the second tit with a sweaty hand, her heart racing as she thinks of how she’ll tear this sack of flesh apart.

Allison cries. The woman has been nothing if not brutal. The strap on stretches her throat in unbelievably painful ways, her lower jaw moving in ways it should not. She feels it sliding around the strap on. The pain in her breast still burns. She fears looking at it. She’d felt how that drill had torn through it, how the drill had jerked and burned through it.
When the woman grabs her second breast Allison begins sobbing. The woman’s nails dig in savagely, ripping scrapes along it and the drill whirs to life, its voice a fiery demon. Allison begins to sob, unable to move, her body prone to these savageries.
The bit bites into her tip, like before, tearing flesh and nerve quickly. The length of the bit rips through her flesh, burning her tit at the same time it bores into her. As the bit hits bone it begins to waver. For Allison it makes her strain, her back arching as she tries to pull away, her body impaled by both ends and now a third. She feels the nail, half pulled, fall away from her finger. The pain from her fingers is inconsequential in comparison.
As her breast meat begins to form over the drill bit it goes back in reverse and she feels the pain all over again. The burning and tearing that rakes her body as all sense is ripped away from her. Then it is over.
The seconds tick by like an eternity, her chest heaving up and down, hot blood leaking down her chest, burning her skin. She no longer hopes for salvation, just an end to the pain. An end to the agony.
Then she feels her throat stretching, blood and bile coming up her throat as the strap on is jammed in and out at a furious pace in her mouth. She cries, wondering what god is it that punishes her so?

The woman relishes the feeling beneath her, the cop slut writhing in agony, her very life choking away as both the woman’s strap on and the choker on the cop’s neck cut away the air supply. It is too sweet, she thinks, all this violence.
She feels an orgasm beginning to build, the strap on coming with a reverse phallus pushed into her own vaginal opening so she may feel pleasure while she causes her victim extreme discomfort. This end now moves into her pussy, wetting her insides as the longer more brutal part continues to ravage the police woman. So it is with each thrust of agony for the police officer the woman herself feels a greater pleasure.
She continues thrusting rapidly, banging against the young officer’s face as the heat in her body rises, watching as those large breasts flop, slapping against the ribs as the barbs dig deeply into the meat, blood spraying forth from the wounds. All so beautiful, she thinks. So.... perfect.
Her thrust become more vigorous, frantic. Her nails begin to dig into the cop’s collar bone, lacquered plastic tearing thin lines into the officer’s chest. She beats fiercely against the officer’s face, the slapping of her lips and cheeks so beautiful as she watches the neck bulge and swell beneath her.
It all works to arouse her further, to push her to her limits until finally the orgasm hits her. Wave after wave washes over her, her body beating a few rough blows against the officer’s lips before she feels herself fully sated.
She pulls out of the limp mouth slowly, tracing a nail across the officer’s cheek, drawing blood. The cop doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes almost glazed over, mouth hanging open with a mixture of drool and blood dribbling down into her nose and eyes.
She lets the officer give her strap on one final kiss with her lips before drawing it away. The strap on is covered in red blood that shines against the burning lights overhead.
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Old 04-10-2014, 08:38 PM   #4
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The woman frowns. The officer’s face looks almost as if dead. She does hope the cop isn’t dead yet. She’d not like to be the one to pay for killing her, but if so, then at least she put one more slut in her place.
Noticing the broken nail against the twitching fingers where she’d left the pliers, the woman picks up the second nail, turning it over and smiles. It broke off roughly, with the edges rippled and cracked. The woman chuckles and pockets her trophy with the first one. All in all, it’s been a good day for her.

The black man sighs, looking over the ravaged body of the police officer. Her face is slack, jaw hanging limply with bone protruding from the left cheek, her eyes glazed. She’s not even moving to struggle any more. Her breasts are two torn pieces of meat and walking around to the vaginal end he can see the bottle has made it so the hooks have torn away the flesh without properly spreading the pussy lips, the lips themselves seeming charred and boiled.
“Shit,” he hisses, looking back towards the rich woman making her way up the stairs back into the audience.
The woman has a fine backside and compared to what is left of this pig it would be far more preferable to fuck. He realizes he really can’t be turned on by this and simply expels his bowels on the officer’s face, letting his piss drain down over her. She does not even flinch.
“Shit,” he mutters, pulling out a long pole with a barbed end. “There’s not much left to this bitch,” he says idly. “So let’s see if this wakes her up?”
He picks up the blow torch, flipping the switch to light the flame and presses the fires to the barbed end.

Allison can barely feel anything anymore. Her whole body has turned into a massive bottle of pain and abuse. A great open sore that has been slit open.
Her mind is frenzied and she barely recognizes the torn piece of meat she sees on the mirrors above her. There is blood everywhere and moving at all just brings more pain. More agony.
She feels the choker at her neck squeezing, crushing the life force out of her and looks towards the buttons all now splattered red. Which one was it? The one on the left? Or right? It doesn’t matter anymore, she thinks, turning away. It only delays the inevitable.
She lets her hand drop back, feeling the constricting pressure of the strap around her neck but can’t be bothered to care anymore. She’s going to die. She just hopes it’s sooner rather than later.
When she hears the blow torch light up she squeezes her eyes shut instinctively, awaiting the agony that is to come. But after several seconds she wonders what it is they are preparing?
The strap tightens more as she finds her breath wheezing through a small tube. It won’t matter much longer. She’ll be dead soon. She’ll be...
Then the pain comes. Something jammed in her rectum that is burning hot and Allison lets out a final, pained scream.

For the man he feels his member finally picking up as he jams the barbed poker into the cunt’s ass, watching as her body writhes and bucks, thrashing on the table. Her anus bubbles, splattering blood out from its opening, the girl managing to let out some tortured cry from beneath her bondage.
He continues pushing the poker in, driving it forward. He paid money to fuck and torture, but since fucking seems out of the question, torturing seems to be all he can do. He pushes the rod in further, taking time to turn it, her asshole smoking and hissing as the rod is driven deeper inside. All too soon though, it is over.
The body stops flaying, coming down and going into its final death throes, the bindings still tightens around her body crushing her throat and chest. The man sighs, tugging at the poker and then letting it go, leaving it lodged in the woman’s rectum. It could have been better.

The man in the tux smiles, watching as the woman dies. She’s brought in a good deal of money for he and his organization. A pity it had to end this way. But so is life.
At the end of the day they’ll prep the body and dump it in the river in another week, her body found mangled and even more befowled than it is now due to what a river can do to one’s corpse. If they find it at all. Many times the bodies are never found at all it would seem. Not that much would be recognized anyways, after it’s been burnt to ash. A skull there a femur there, it makes no difference in the end. None at all...
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Old 04-13-2014, 05:41 AM   #5
ReturnSomeVideotapes
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Oh man this was one hell of a story, I loved the direction you took with it. You can consider me a new fan.

Keep up the good work
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Old 04-13-2014, 10:20 AM   #6
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Oh man this was one hell of a story, I loved the direction you took with it. You can consider me a new fan.

Keep up the good work
thanks! i'm glad you enjoyed!
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Old 04-16-2014, 01:09 PM   #7
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Marvellous!
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Old 04-22-2014, 05:36 AM   #8
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What a waste. A good story by a favorite writer ruined by a snuff ending. Not gonna read this...
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Old 04-22-2014, 02:32 PM   #9
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The story is not ruined just because it ends in a way you don't like. I'll even help you out, don't read the last paragraph and you won't have to deal with the snuff. You could even stop 2 paragraphs before the end and it ends just fine there too.
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Old 04-23-2014, 11:42 AM   #10
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The story is not ruined just because it ends in a way you don't like. I'll even help you out, don't read the last paragraph and you won't have to deal with the snuff. You could even stop 2 paragraphs before the end and it ends just fine there too.
Doesn't work, sorry. Knowing it ends with snuff ruins all reading pleasure for me.
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Old 06-28-2014, 03:37 AM   #11
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Fantastic!!!Loved this, wish I could read a story THIS great about my Mrs.!!!

Robert V.
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Old 06-28-2014, 10:52 PM   #12
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Fantastic!!!Loved this, wish I could read a story THIS great about my Mrs.!!!

Robert V.
glad you liked friend.
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Old 07-02-2014, 11:24 PM   #13
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Very nice story, I really enjoyed it, thank you
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Old 07-06-2014, 11:46 AM   #14
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Very nice story, I really enjoyed it, thank you
glad you enjoyed!
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