The Collectors Estate

Part Two - The Yacht

44 ° 10' N lat. X 125 ° 50' W long.

Approximately 65km off the coast from Newport, Oregon

The pleasure craft "My Money"

3:15PM

As some three hundred or so women were being transported away from a Houston convention center in unmarked black semi trucks, approximately 2000km away a large boat floated off the coast of the northwestern United States. The boat was a yacht; a pleasure craft named 'My Money.' On board the boat, a well-respected socialite was hosting an informal party for one hundred fifty of his guests. The party was already in full-swing and had been for nearly two days. The guests on board the on hundred twenty foot long boat had consumed nearly twenty pounds of fine caviar, over six hundred oysters, almost a thousand pounds of shrimp and over fifteen cases of the finest champagne.

No expense had been spared for this party. The host, a man by the name of Herbert Warner, was stepping down from his forty year position as CEO of Herbert Warner Industries. His two sons, Justin and Jake, both of whom were one the yacht for this special party, were now in equal control of the company. Over the last day and a half, many toasts had been made to Herbert and to Justin and Jake. There was much cajoling in the festive air. The party was a happy one.

Approaching from some miles away were five long, sleek-looking, black boats. These boats were affectionately known in nautical circles as "cigarette" boats. Each boat was a forty foot long monster with twin 400 horsepower motors, a sophisticated global positioning system and ship-to-shore radio. In short, these boats were fast, technologically advanced monsters on the water. Each boat was also manned by a crew of five men: A pilot and four masked men armed with machine guns. Except for one boat, aboard which was also a woman.

The woman was sharply dressed in an expensive, tailored black business suit that was cut to show enough leg to be provocative, but not enough to be unprofessional. She wore expensive sunglasses, behind which her eyes were focused squarely on her target. Her long, blonde hair was bound back in a simple ponytail and was, at the moment, flapping wildly about in the high wind as the boats rocketed toward the yacht on the horizon.

In moments, the cigarette boats swarmed the yacht. The twenty armed men were aboard and were systematically rounding up every guest on board; each cigarette boat pilot had stayed aboard their own boat to keep them manned and steady alongside the yacht. One guest had leaped over the side to escape and had been shot dead before he even hit the water.

Chaos reined and screaming filled the air as guests were hurriedly corralled inside the yacht's large ballroom. The staff and crew were also rounded up and were taken below decks by a few of the men. Eventually, every guest was accounted for, the yacht was brought to full anchor and one of the masked men radioed the all-clear to the boat carrying the blonde woman.

Aboard the black boat, the woman in black had tidied herself up somewhat. When the all-clear came in, she was below in the washroom in the hold brushing her hair. As soon as the all-clear was called in, she hastily pulled her hair back into the simple ponytail she'd been wearing and snapped on her sunglasses. She left the hold of the cigarette boat and crossed quickly to the aft boarding area of the yacht. Up a short ladder and across the aft deck and she was inside the yacht. She proceeded quickly to the main ballroom.

"Everyone shut up!" She snapped in a clear, sharp voice into the turmoil-filled room. The room quieted and eyes turned toward the woman to see who had spoken. One furious-looking man came forward through the crowd in the ballroom.

"Now see here..." he began. The blonde woman reached under her business jacket and withdrew an automatic pistol. She hit the man squarely in the nose with the butt of the gun. He immediately dropped to his knees and clutched his broken nose.

"No. You see here. You shut up and do as you're told." She looked around the room. "That's your only warning," she said. "Any further interruptions or protests like this person here, and you will die." She pushed the man backward with her foot, which was enclosed in a black leather boot that came to the middle of her calf. The man fell backward with little resistance, still holding his nose and whimpering slightly.

A woman bent to help the man and the blonde woman looked at her and said sharply, "Leave him." The woman backed away immediately, her eyes fixed on the blonde woman's gun.

"I want all the women against the port side wall and all the men against the starboard side wall. Move! Now!" Immediately, the blonde woman and her men began separating the men and women and forcing one sex toward the port side wall and the other to the starboard side wall. In moments, the guests were all separated and standing with their backs to the wood paneled wall. Three men kept a watch on the women while the blonde woman and about ten of her men focused their attention on the men. The rest of the mercenaries were, apparently, in other areas of the yacht.

The blonde woman quickly walked the line of men, back and forth, visually inspecting each of them. Some of the older-looking men, she pulled aside and ordered a couple of her men to take them into the hold. Several more men were pulled away from the main group and her men were ordered to lock them in cabins individually. The man whose nose the blonde woman had broken was taken away with this group and held in an individual cabin. The remaining men stood looking about nervously, unsure of what just happened or what was about to happen.

Once her men had returned from their assignments, the blonde woman then crossed the room and swiftly inspected the women in the group. As before, several of the older women were rounded up and taken to the hold. Several other women were taken to individual cabins and held.

The blonde woman returned to the front of the room and her men took up positions watching the guests remaining in the ballroom. In her clear and sharp voice, she began to speak quick commands to the people in the room.

"Strip out of your clothing now. All of you," she held up her hand as some began to open their mouths to protest. "If I hear any words of argument from any of you, I'll order these men to kill you where you stand. Now, strip out of your clothing and do not make me ask again."

Horror-stricken, many of the guests did not even move. Others tentatively began to undo buttons and unclasp dresses. The blonde woman rolled her eyes at the noncompliant individuals in the group. She slowly counted to three and watched as a few more individuals snapped out of their shocked stupor and began to undress. Still, about ten of the guests had not even moved to remove their clothing.

The blonde woman sighed, exasperated. "Shoot them," she said. One by one the mercenaries raised their guns, each targeting a person that was not complying with the orders given. One by one, there were quiet puffs and one by one the guests that had chosen to not follow the rules dropped to the floor, lifeless. The room, of course, exploded into chaos. Women shrieked and some men tried to rush from the room. It was all quite futile, of course. The men were swiftly returned to their positions and the women were silenced either by sharp words or by the barrel of a gun pointed at their heads.

"Finish!" The woman commanded the people in the room. Slowly, hesitantly, the men and women began undressing again. Soon enough, all the guests stood naked against each wall, their clothes and jewelry in piles in front of them and around them. Many of them tried in vain to cover themselves and hide their nudity from the others.

Rolling her eyes again, the blonde woman walked toward the line of nude men. As she approached the first one, she returned her pistol to its holster under her jacket and removed a red marker. Quickly and quietly, she walked from man to man inspecting and grading them. Occasionally, she would slap a man's hands away from his penis as he tried to cover it from view. As she inspected each man, she circled or marked any cosmetic enhancements, scars or tattoos. There were surprisingly few of them, given the wealth of this particular crowd. The blonde woman was fairly surprised with how natural these men were. Once her inspection was finished, she marked each man with a letter. She used S, E, A and B. She didn't mark any of the men with an X. Any man that would have been marked with an X had already been separated from the group and sent to the hold below.

Once every man had been inspected, two of the mercenaries moved down the line of men, quickly turning each man around, binding his wrists with thick plastic cords and then taping their mouths shut with silver duct tape. The men were then all led from the ballroom; there were forty-two men in all. They were led up to the deck of the yacht and then down into the cigarette boats. Twenty-one men went into each hold. They were ordered to lie down, side-by-side, and then they were locked in the dark hold. As each boat was filled, two of the mercenaries remained aboard and the boat sped off at top speed toward the Oregon coast and no one was the wiser for the content of each boat's hold.

The process was repeated with the women in the room. Each woman was inspected and graded; there were quite a few red marks made on this side of the room, though. As before, there were no women marked with the letter X; they had all been separated from the group previously and sent below decks into the hold. It seemed that, while the men didn't spend their money making themselves look younger or fitter, the women were all too happy to spend it for them in vain efforts to cheat time. By the time the blonde woman had finished marking all the enhancements, her wrist had become quite sore. Afterward, each woman was bound and gagged, and then they were all led away and into the holds of two of the remaining boats. The boats then sped off with their cargo safety stowed away below decks. As before, two gunmen remained on each boat for security. The rest remained aboard the yacht.

That left the blonde woman, twelve mercenaries and the remaining guests in the cabins. The woman and six of the remaining men moved from the ballroom to the cabins in which the remaining men were being held.

"Where did you put the informant?" The blonde woman asked one of her men.

"In the end cabin," the mercenary said, indicating a doorway at the end of the hallway.

"Fetch him first. He's supposed to take care of the remaining recruits," the blonde woman said with a wry smile. The mercenary immediately moved to the end of the corridor and opened the door. A few words were exchanged between the mercenary and the man inside, and then the mercenary moved out of the way allowing the man to step out into the corridor.

"Everything went well, it seems," the man said, approaching the blonde woman.

"Indeed," she replied. "Everything went perfectly according to plan. There were more losses than expected, but it doesn't really matter. We'll have plenty of subjects to choose from in the future."

"Agreed," the man said, taking out a cigarette case, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a gold lighter.

"Besides," the woman continued. "This 'upper-crust' crowd really isn't my type. I'd much rather have just shot them all and taken the yacht and the millions in jewels they were wearing."

"I know," the man said. "But you know we cannot keep the boat or any of the jewels here. They're all far too easy to trace if seen or sold."

"Yes," she agreed with a shrug. "Besides, with what the Collectors Estate is paying me, I can afford my own jewels."

"Right indeed," the man said with a short laugh. "Well, shall we see to the rest of our guests?"

"Yes sir. As you wish," the blonde woman said and motioned to her men to fetch the men from their cabins.

One by one, the doors were opened and the men were brought out into the corridor. One of the men, the man in the last cabin in the corridor, was the man whose nose the blonde woman had broken earlier.

"Not him," she ordered the mercenary bringing the man into the corridor. "He stays in there for now." The man was immediately ushered back into the cabin from which he was previously removed.

One of the men seemed to recognize the man with which the blonde woman had been talking. "Carlyle? Robert Carlyle?" the man being escorted by a mercenary asked. "What are you doing with these people?"

Robert Carlyle, Collectors Estate Member #21, looked at the man with a smirk and said, "What can I say, Matthew? I work for the bad guys." Robert Carlyle motioned for the mercenaries to take the man away.

"Can you take care of these men?" the blonde woman asked Carlyle. "I have some personal business to take care of."

"Surely," Carlyle said. "Enjoy yourself."

"Oh I will," she said with a nasty, angry glint in her eye. "You!" she indicated one of the mercenaries. "I'll need your help. Open this cabin." She indicated the cabin in which the man whose nose she had broken earlier was kept.

The mercenary opened the cabin as Robert Carlyle and the five mercenaries escorted the remaining men back into the ballroom. As the door was opened, the man inside, apparently with some newly-found courage, leapt toward the blonde woman in an attempt to force his way past her and make a break for it. As the man rushed at her, she swiftly cracked him in the nose once more, this time with the palm of her hand. Fresh blood ran from his nose and he crumpled to the floor, clutching at the mangled bit of flesh that once resembled his nose.

To the man holding his nose on the floor, the blonde woman said, "I think you've caused me just about enough trouble." She turned her head toward the mercenary that had entered behind her and had slid the cabin's door closed again. "Knife," she demanded. The mercenary quickly produced the sharpened and polished carbon steel knife from his side and placed the hilt of it in the blonde woman's waiting hand.

She slid the knife under the man's collar behind his neck. With a swift, sure motion, she slid the knife from his collar to his waist. The cloth of the shirt parting as the knife sliced through it like butter. She tore and cut the shirt off of him, and the repeated the process for his undershirt, pants and underwear. She tore the socks and shoes from his feet angrily. The man seemed to hardly notice. He put up no resistance and did not attempt to fight her. She discovered why once she had cut his underwear off him. The man's cock was hard. Despite the broken nose and the embarrassment, his cock had still gotten stiff while he was being undressed by this beautiful woman.

"Aw, look at that," the blonde woman said to no one in particular. "You like having your clothes torn off of you by a woman?' She stroked his cock with her boot. Inadvertently, his hips moved forward as she moved her foot rhythmically along the shaft of his cock. The man cautiously moved his hands away from his nose. His bruised eyes were partially closed in his pleasure.

"Well, let me assure you that this is the most pleasant any of my touches will ever be to you," as she said the last word, she pushed his cock to the floor with her boot, crushing it and grinding it between the leather of the sole of her boot and the polished wood of the cabin floor. The man screamed, but his scream quickly turned into a high-pitched squeal, almost as that of a little girl. He tried to double over in pain and to cover up his wounded privates, but the woman held his cock in place with her boot. The man gasped again and squealed loudly again. She stood on his cock with her left foot and raised her right foot, bringing the boot down on the man's nose. She ground the sole of her boot down on his nose exactly as she had ground the other boot down on his cock before. The man gasped again, made a small squeaking sound and then he passed out, his body going limp under her feet.

She turned to the mercenary. "Help me get him onto the bed," the blonde woman said to the mercenary. She grabbed hold of the man's legs and the mercenary took him under the armpits and together they lifted the man's limp body onto the bed. Once he was on the bed, she ordered the mercenary to duct tape the man's wrists and ankles to the bed rails. She needed a way to secure his hips and head to the bed as well, but was unsure how to accomplish that task. For what she had in mind, she needed the man held completely still. He would want to squirm and buck a lot, but that would thwart her plans for him if he did.

In the end, she wound up looping the tape around his forehead and underneath his chin and securing the tape to the headboard to hold his head. To hold his hips steady, she cut linens into strips and tied them about his upper thighs and around his waist, and then pulled the loose end tightly under the bed and around the opposite side, finally tying the free ends securely to the wrapping used to secure the man. It was more work than she wanted to put into the effort, but she had time. She also enjoyed activities like the ones she was about to engage, so a few extra moments wasn't going to stand between her and her work.

Once the man was secured to the bed, she dismissed the mercenary and went into the bathroom to run some cold water into one of the plastic cups in the cabinet near the sink.

Meanwhile, the men that had been removed rom the ballroom and locked in cabins below decks had all been stripped under the supervision of Robert Carlyle and each marked as a 'Special Instructions' package. These men were bound and gagged as the ones before them had also been, but they were also blindfolded. A number was written on them in red marker before they were taken to the boat. Carlyle made a documentation on a notepad he'd picked up, including the mens' numbers and the special handling instructions for each man.

"Okay. Let's go get the women." Carlyle said to the mercenaries with him.

Robert Carlyle and the mercenaries moved below decks again, this time they moved to the cabins into which the blonde woman had secured the women that had been separated from the rest of the group. Again, one by one, the cabin doors were opened and the women were ushered into the corridor. Almost immediately, all of the women recognized Robert Carlyle.

"Robert?" One of them asked incredulously. "What are you doing here? Why are you helping these people to do this to us?"

"Helping?" He scoffed at the woman, a pretty blonde of about twenty-five with smallish breasts and a tiny waist. "My dear, you have it all wrong. These men are helping me to do this to all of you."

The woman stood shocked, her mouth open, not knowing what to say.

"Susan," Carlyle began. "What we had together was great. Oh, who am I kidding? You were all boring fucks and I enjoyed seducing each and everyone of you right out from under your husbands' noses." He grinned as he took note of the shocked looks on all their faces. "Look, if those morons you married didn't have the sense to pay attention to you, then they deserved to have you seduced away from them. It's just their tough luck and yours that I'm the one that happened to do the seducing."

Susan, the smallish blonde, had heard enough. She tried to slap Robert Carlyle for his hurtful words, but he caught her wrist and wrenched it behind her back. He grabbed her roughly by her hair and spoke, growled, into her ear. His words were loud enough for all of the women in the corridor to hear.

"Listen and listen well, bitch," he began. "You and the rest of these useless, worthless cunts are about to undergo some pretty severe life changes. From now on, you're not going to be pampered and primping little socialite bitches. You're all going to be... Ah, but why give it away. The best part will be seeing the look on your faces when it happens to you." He released the woman and turned to the mercenaries. "Take them upstairs," he said. "I need to check on something very quickly."

"Yes sir," the mercenary said. He and the rest of the men led the women up the stairs and into the ballroom.

Carlyle, in the meantime, went looking for the blonde woman. The last time he'd seen her, she was entering one of the cabins in which one of the men had been held prisoner. She had looked quite annoyed about something. Carlyle thought he'd check on her and see how she was doing.

Soon enough, he'd found the door she'd entered and knocked. "Come in. It's open," called the voice of the blonde woman from inside. Carlyle opened the door just as the blonde woman was coming out of the washroom carrying a cup of water and a knife. He saw the man lying tied to the bed and stripped.

"Having some fun?" Carlyle asked.

"This is the bastard from before that tried to bully me. He even tried to escape. Can you imagine?" The blonde woman said with a tinge of sharpness in her voice.

"So he's in for a rough night then, it seems." Carlyle said, rather matter-of-factly.

"Yes. You could say that," the blond woman retorted.

"I'm about to load and send the last boat. I thought you'd want to know," he said.

"Alright. It will take them some time to offload and secure the cargo," she said. "I'd say we probably have two hours before pick up."

"I'd say about that, yes," he said. "I noticed while we were rounding up the men that Morgan Tate was missing. Do you know anything about that? He wasn't taken below by accident was he?"

"Tate, Morgan. Fifty, balding grey hair, six feet and one inch tall, blue eyes, high cheekbones. I memorized the pictures you gave me," she said. "He wasn't here. I don't know why, but he wasn't among the guests.."

"That's good enough for me. I trust you when you say he wasn't here. I was just wondering, because his wife still managed to make it to the party."

"Maybe she knew you were going to be here and she came even though her husband couldn't make it," the blonde woman chided.

"Perhaps," Carlyle said. "That does sound like something Rebecca Tate would do. Oh well. No matter. Her husband will just have to miss out on all the fun and excitement of his wife's degradation and torture. A shame really, but an acceptable loss."

"We could always pick him up later," she said.

"No. No. This will be better," Carlyle said. "This way I can look at him in his distress over her disappearance and have fond thoughts of what I know has happened to her while I listen to him lament." Carlyle grinned somewhat at this reverie. "Anyway, go have your fun. I'll finish up with these women and wait for the boat in the lounge."

"Alright, sir. I will be up when I finish with him," she said, indicating the tied, naked man on the bed.

"Good," he said, walking away from the cabin and lighting another cigarette as he ascended the stairs.

The blonde woman closed the cabin door, eager to begin her recreation.

Robert Carlyle proceeded to the ballroom. He took personal delight in having the women strip out of their clothes, inspecting them in front of these strange men and writing up their special instructions. All of these women were bound, gagged and blindfolded before being led to the hold of the last boat. Unknown to them, they were laid out in the hold opposite each of their husbands, with the exception of Rebecca Tate. Carlyle's special handling instructions had been given to one of the mercenaries to return with this boat.

Ten of the mercenaries returned with the last boat, leaving only two men with Robert Carlyle and the blonde woman, who was, at the moment, below having fun with her latest toy.

After Carlyle left the blonde woman and her bound plaything, she crossed to the small bed to which he was securely restrained. She splashed the cold water from the glass she was holding into his face and the man came to with a sputtering start. He looked around, somewhat confused, taking in his surrounds and his predicament. Seeing himself alone in this room with this slight-looking woman and none of those men with guns about gave him some new courage. The man instantly tried to take command of the situation.

"Now see here, young lady," he began. "I demand that you release me at once. This charade has gone on quite long enough. I would like to call for medical attention for my nose, which I am sure you have broken." To be sure, his nose and cock were both throbbing from this woman's abuse, but that wasn't going to sway the man from his determination to have himself released and to see her jailed for her affronts against him.

She looked back at him, a rather blase look on her face.

"Are you quite finished now?" she asked, rather matter-of-factly.

"What?" the man sputtered. "How dare you..."

"Shut the fuck up," she said in a stern and commanding voice. "I don't give a shit who you are in the 'real world.' It doesn't matter to me one tiny bit; you are my little toy for the next couple of hours and you are going to entertain me for that amount of time."

The man again attempted to become indignant with her, but she shushed him with a wave of her hand. The fact that the hand she waved happened to be holding a very wicked looking carbon steel knife probably helped her position somewhat.

"You see? In this little world you have just entered, I am in charge. I'm the queen bee. I'm the empress of Rome. I am the grand high poobah. You are little more to me than some piece of trash to be crushed and disposed of at my whim," she had taken on a rather imperious tone. "So, shall we get to our fun?"

"What do you intend to do to me," the man asked nervously.

"I'm going to cut off your cock and balls and feed them to you," she said, again, rather matter-of-factly.

"What?" the man asked, astonished. "You must be joking."

"Oh no," she said sitting on the bed next to him, twirling the knife in her hand. "I assure you I am not."

"No!" the man shrieked in his whiny, high-pitched voice. "No! You can't do this to me! No!" He tried to free himself from his bonds or struggle, but he was tied far too tightly to allow any significant movement. About the only thing he could do was to heave his chest up and down and that didn't seem to help his position at all.

The blonde woman smiled at him and said, "Now that's what I like to see. Squirm for me, little man."

He cried out again, pulling futilely at his bonds, but to no avail. He was held too tightly to move and could do nothing to defend himself from this knife-wielding harlot seated next to him.

"First, I am going to remove your scrotal sac," she said in a voice that was calm and detached, almost like a doctor's voice. "I'm afraid this is rather going to hurt a lot. Don't worry though. If you pass out, I'll be delighted to wake you so that you don't miss a thing. Do cry out as much as you want, though. I should enjoy hearing you scream like a little bitch for my amusement."

Without another word, she reached between his legs and, moving the man's penis out of the way, took hold of the sac of skin covering his testicles. Deftly, she began to cut it away from the rest of his body, starting where the scrotal sac attaches to the penis and moving slowly and gently around to the underside of the sac nearest the man's anus. The skin came away remarkably easily, and the man shrieked and screamed all the while the blonde woman separated the small sac from the rest of his body. The man's shrieks and helplessness coupled with the brutality of the acts which she was about to commit were, in fact, making the woman quite aroused. Perhaps she and Carlyle would have some fun of their own on the way back to the mainland.

With another deft, gentle movement of her wrist, the woman made another semi-circular cut with the knife and tugged the sac of skin away from his body. She held it before the man's face so he could see it. Despite his pain, the man could do nothing more than to stare goggle-eyed at his own scrotal sac dangling from this woman's fingers right in front of his eyes. Even though the man had stopped screaming when she had produced hi sac for his viewing pleasure, his mouth was still agape from the shock of what he was seeing. Seizing the opportunity, the blonde woman popped the hairy bit of skin into the man's mouth, jammed his jaw closed and held what was left of his nose closed so he couldn't breathe.

"Swallow it or suffocate," the blonde woman commanded. "I really don't care either way."

The man fought for a couple of moments, his face turning a bright shade of red from his efforts and the lack of air. Shortly, though, the woman heard the soft sound of a gulp as the man swallowed his own scrotal sac.

"Good boy," she said, releasing him and patting him on the forehead. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Please stop this," the man said whimpering. "Please let me go."

"Now, you see?" she said, almost in a motherly tone. "If you had been nice to me like this from the beginning, we wouldn't be here right now. Do you see what acting like an arrogant ass gets you?"

The man could not respond. He could not even look away from her scowling face as she berated him.

"Let's move on, shall we?" she asked. "We're getting to the good part now." She reached between his legs again, taking his exposed testes in her hand. There was very little blood, as no major blood vessels are present in the skin of the scrotum.

"The fun part about this," she said, moving his testicles in her hand as she spoke. "Is that your balls are still attached to your body. So anything I do to them at this point you will still feel." She gave his testicles a firm squeeze just to illustrate her point.

The man moaned, "Oh god. Please no."

"You seem to have a pretty healthy set of nuts on you," the blond woman said, ignoring his plea. "More than you could handle in one swallow, I'm afraid. So I am going to cut them into quarters and feed them to you one bite at a time. Ready?"

"Oh god no!" the man yelled out. "Please stop! No!" He screamed out in terror as the blonde woman took a book the previous occupant of this cabin must have been reading from the table next to the bed and shoved it between his legs, creating a makeshift cutting board for the woman to continue her work.

Without seeming to notice the man's panicked screams and entreaties to her to have mercy, she held one of his testicles in her fingers and, in one quick motion, sliced it in half. The man went completely stiff. Screams no longer issued from his mouth, only a forced, muted stream of air. He, of course, passed out again.

Undeterred, the woman fetched another glass of water from the small bathroom and threw it in the man's face. He woke again, his eyes bleary from shock. He seemed almost listless and unaware of his surroundings. He was awake. That was all that mattered to the blonde woman.

Quickly, she held the two halves of his dissected testicle against the book and cut each of the two pieces in half again. The man let out sort of a croaking moan and his head lolled to one side. Picking up one piece of his testis from the book, she forced it into his mouth and held it closed. Reflexively, the man swallowed it, his shock-addled brain likely not knowing any better.

The woman repeated this process with the other piece she had cut. Then she cut the remaining two pieces of the testis away from the seminal vesicle. There was a spurt of blood as she had to cut through the blood vessel connecting the testis to the body, but the blood flow didn't seem too bad. If it got out of hand, she would cauterize the wound so he wouldn't bleed to death before her torture was finished.

She fed the man the two pieces of his testicle, one after the other, and then she quartered the other one and fed it to him a piece at a time. He passed out again after she sliced the second one, but she was patient and after splashing three or four more cups of water into his face, she was able to wake him again.

The man was completely in shock by now. It was doubtful his body would even register the pain response anymore, so the blonde woman figured it was nearing time to end her fun. She did want him to be somewhat coherent for what would happen to him finally, though, so after cutting off his penis and putting it in his mouth, taping his mouth closed with duct tape and cauterizing the wound with a small butane lighter she kept in her jacket pocket, she waited for some of the shock to wear off. A glance at her watch told her that her time was running short, and it was unlikely that he would com around anytime soon.

She sighed, somewhat frustrated that she would not be able to enjoy the end of her fun more, but he was an old fellow. She had figured he would have had a heart attack or something by the time she was finished with him anyway, so her disappointment was not too great.

She tore another piece of tape from her roll and secured it over the man's broken and bruised nostrils, and then she watched as his body desperately strained for air that would not come. She looked into his eyes as his face turned from red to blue to purple his eyes stared back into hers until, after several great lurches, his body gave up and the life drained away from him.

"Good," the blonde woman said, picking up the knife. She rinsed her hands and the knife off in the bathroom sink before leaving the cabin. As she ascended the stairs back into the ballroom, she saw the boat to retrieve her and Carlyle coming alongside the yacht.

Walking to the thirty foot cabin cruiser with the two remaining mercenaries in tow, the blonde woman said to Carlyle with a half crooked smile, "After I shower, I will require your services."

"Will you now," he asked, somewhat amused. He knew she had tortured the man in the cabin to death and that it had ver likely left her in a very aroused state. "Should I be worried?"

"No," she said. "Unless you can't keep that cock of yours hard." She smiled at him and boarded the waiting boat.

Terror on the High Seas!

The pleasure yacht, My Money was discovered, after being adrift for several days in the Pacific Ocean, several hundreds of miles off the coast of California. According to sources, the yacht had been the site of the retirement party of Herbert Warner Industries CEO, Herbert Warner. The bodies of fifty people, thirty-seven guests and a crew of thirteen, were found on board. Included in the carnage were wealthy businessman and socialite Herbert Warner and his two sons Justin and Jake Warner, who were to inherit equal shares in the company after their father's retirement.

The President of Herbert Warner Industries, Robert Carlyle could not be reached for comment at this time. Carlyle is the highest ranking company executive and the company will now likely fall into his hands following this incident.

Also among the bodies found on board the My Money were...