Disposal By Degrees.

 

DISPOSAL BY DEGREES.

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Snuff, torture, non-consensual.

Warning. Don’t even look if you do not like those categories.

This is extreme PHANTASY.

If it had any bearing on reality it would be sick and disgusting.

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This is a new story from Susan, readable as a separate story but featuring the characters introduced in “Questions and Answers”.

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However, what happened in that story was only childs-play when compared with the outlandish cruelty unleashed on the unfortunate family in this episode……

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You have been warned.

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Chapter One.

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I’m Sorry to Disappoint You!

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Greta was soaked to the skin.

Her light beige cotton shirt clung to her breasts and revealed every detail of her prominent nipples through the fine fabric.

Pale cream shorts dripped rivulets of rain water down her bare legs.

Incongruously, she was wearing black patent high heel shoes, having to step carefully along the muddy track, keeping her weight forward so that the heels did not sink too far into the mud.

Her black shoulder length hair was plastered to her head as if she had just stepped out of the shower.

Behind her, equally soaked, Lou Cortez watched the swivel of the soaked shorts at the top of those long sexy legs.

He did not have to try very hard to imagine that deep cleft of her nicely rounded buttocks over the twin holes of sexual bliss he frequently visited.

An ex-boxer, Lou was not very tall but had a well defined muscular body, his appearance slightly Hispanic, his eyes dark and cruel.

Greta was technically his boss, but as they spent a lot of time fucking each other, it was more of a partnership.

They were walking under a canopy of palm and other verdant foliage, climbing towards the well concealed command centre above the cliffs on the small unpopulated island that they called their “James Bond” set.

The Group owned the island.

Ostensibly, the only buildings that were visible were to record weather details and service wild life conservation teams that occasionally visited the atoll.

The beaches, such as they were, had rough dark pebbles and unwelcoming sheer cliffs.

Few sailors ventured to this speck of land when there were so many palm fringed tropical isles close by that absolutely begged for exploration.

Tropical islands are fine when the sun shines, but Greta was pissed off with the torrential rain to-day.

“I wonder if they’ll ever dig the tunnel so we can get down to the cave without this fucking trek?” Greta grunted.

“Doubt it, Darlin’……they never have to climb up it, do they? And it’s not exactly difficult. Just look at the scenery. Sea, cliffs, Gawd, people would give a lot of money to see all this!”

“Not in this fucking weather they wouldn’t!” Greta snapped.

 

She rang the bell of the “weather station” and after a short wait, the door was opened by the only permanent inhabitant of the James Bond set, a dark Spaniard no-one knew anything about.

He did as he was told, never questioning his orders even if they were outlandish. He rarely smiled, seemed to have no interests in anything, and ran the communication centre on the island.

He was a good sailor, useful if one had to hi-jack a boat, could fly almost anything, and only occasionally availed himself of the frequent sexual treats that were sometimes on offer down in the cave system below the cliffs.

Carlos grunted, staring without lust at the dripping breasts of his superior as she calmly pulled her shirt over her head and wrung it out like a dish cloth.

“What’s the panic, Carlos?”

“No panic. They want you on the scrambler. Line down to the house has packed up. Probably water in somewhere. I’ll fix when the storm’s over.”

Greta went in to the small glass fronted radio room and lifted the radio phone.

Her superior answered in seconds.

“The Wilson case. We have the money. You did well. How are they?”

“A bit shattered but all in one piece. There won’t be any dramatic evidence if they tried to prove what happened.”

“And their boat?”

“Still in the lagoon. It is under the cliff.”

There was a short silence.

“Do they have any idea where you are?”

Greta thought for a minute before answering. The family had been aboard their boat when she had hi-jacked them. They had been unconscious until secured in the cells of the cave complex. Since then, they had not seen outside the caves.

“Possibly feel they are somewhere in this area, but no way they could find us, I think.”

There was another pause. Greta thought there was a little conference going on. Then her superior gave a short laugh. “Would you object to a disposal job, Greta?”

“No Sir. I’d be happy to take care of it. It would be a pleasure, Sir!”

“I  take it there were women involved then, judging by your eagerness, eh?” the man chuckled. He knew Greta’s predilection for cruelty. Indeed, that was why she was the Groups’ chief interrogator.

“Three, Sir. I really mean it. It will be a pleasure!”

“Make sure the boat is not traceable. There is an alert out for it, by the way. Perhaps destroy and sink would be the safest method.”

“Carlos will take care of that, Sir. Thankyou.”

“Go on, then, you awful bitch. Go and enjoy yourself. We will write them off as no longer our concern.”

Greta put down the phone and turned to Lou, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

“Oh Lou Baby…..guess what Momma’s got as a present!”

Lou smiled. There are a few people who can make a smile something horrible to behold. Lou was one of those people.

“We can kill them?”

“Got it in one, Sweetheart. Come on, I won’t even moan about getting soaked again going back down. Oh, Carlos. The 45 footer has to be disposed of. Shall I ask  Simon to help? He can come out in our boat to pick you up. Make sure there are no identifiable bits that could get found or trawled up.”

Simon Hutchings was the other one of the unholy trinity, as Greta’s little group were sometimes known.

Equally as sadistic as Lou, but a homosexual, Simon was an expert driver and a dangerous fighter when the need arose, a “good man to have around” as Greta often said.

He and Lou had been with Greta for about four years now. It was a well paid job, and how many sadistic homosexuals could actually get paid for raping and torturing men?

Simon was a happy bunny, especially when he heard about the disposal order.

The things he had in mind for that big black man……….

At first he was not too keen on the yacht destroying job, thinking he would miss out on telling the family what was going to happen to them, but Greta promised she would not reveal the truth to their guests until he and Carlos got back.

The waters round the island were deep, each island actually being the top of an old volcano.

Sheer sided underwater cliffs meant anything that was sunk went a long way straight down.

Some judicious cut and burn work, and  Greg Wilson’s lovely boat would sink without trace and even be unidentifiable should it ever, by some remote possibility, be discovered.

They did it at dusk. In the red sunset that followed the storm, their acetylene torches would not show up to any unseen passing craft. And by the time they had de-personalised the boat ready to sink her, it was nicely dark. She went down with just a few bubbles and no oil slick.

Simon drove back at full throttle.

He was looking forward to this evenings’ entertainment.

They tucked their motor yacht in close to the overhanging shore of the well hidden lagoon, and Carlos returned to his solitary existence on the cliff top whilst Simon sped with unseemly haste into the disguised and well secured complex of cells and living quarters that the Group had constructed secretly inside the rock caves.

The James Bond set, the builders had called it.

But this was real.

Inside, Greta and Lou had seen the return of the motor cruiser on the security cameras, watched Simon come ashore, and released the security locks to allow him to enter their hidden chamber of horrors.

They had a meal ready, all wolfing down their food, eager to get on with what was to follow.

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In a quite comfortable square cave with six adjoining cells that were all open, the reluctant guests of the Unholy Trio were also eating.

A small kitchen area had bottle gas cookers, micro waves, preparing surfaces, and a surprisingly well stocked fridge. There was even a shower and w.c. room.

For the past two days, the five reluctant residents had been able to look after themselves almost as if they were in a self catering holiday flat.

Of course, they could not leave the suite of cells and they were all in a pretty strange state, glad that they were no longer being subjected to rape and pain, but at the same time unable to come to terms with what they had done to each other.

Greg, 53, was ashen, still totally shocked to the core and dreadfully ashamed as it was his refusal to hand over money to the Group that had caused his family to be outrageously treated. What made it worse, of course, was that in the end he had given way and all his money had gone.

But he had seen his virgin eighteen year old daughter, Priscilla, raped and tortured, his wife Mary, a lovely woman who normally looked far younger than her 44 years, violated and abused, his older daughter, Sally, 19, and her twenty year old fiancée, Bill, also ravished and hurt.

He had even been forced by that fiendish woman to take part in those orgies of depravity, somehow unable to stop his body responding even though his mind was horrified at what he was doing.

And he had actually been ravished himself, once by one of his captors and then, horribly, by his future son-in-law who was also drugged so he was doing things his brain hated but his body could not resist.

And, perhaps more insidious in its horror, he had seen his wife explode with  passion as she was introduced to Lesbian lovemaking and later repeatedly ravished, seeming to enjoy it all without being drugged, even coming when her own daughter was made to perform cunnilingus on her wide spread pussy……

These feelings of guilt and shock were similar for all the family. Perhaps the youngest girl, Priscilla, could claim to be the only one who had not performed willingly, though she had suffered dreadful abuse, been anally and normally fucked even by her sisters’  lover, sucked off her own mother and father, and so on. She had not been given the special Viagra based cocktail of drugs, however, and so she had done nothing without coercion.

Mary, ashamed by her own sexual hunger, was also finding it hard to even speak to her older daughter and her tall negro fiancée. Mary had sucked him off and whimpered with bliss as he shagged her. How can one’s daughter forgive such abhorrent behaviour?

But they were sure their ordeal was over.

Greg had explained how he had been forced to give away his life’s savings and was now virtually penniless. Bill had said it was “one of those things”……..O.K. for him, young enough to make it and with a good business anyway!……….and they were trying hard to pretend  that the things they had been forced to do just didn’t happen.

They had no idea of time, not even sure how many days they had been held captive or whether it was night or day. All they could do was wait, and it was almost a relief when the door to the main cell opened and that awful woman and her two male helpers strolled arrogantly into the centre of the chamber.

All three were holding pistols in one hand and those dreadful electric prod sticks in the other.

“Well Hello, my Dears. Have you missed me?” Greta smiled sweetly.

Looks that silently wished her dead were returned by all the apprehensive captives.

“First of all, the people at The Group for whom I work asked me to thank you for your co-operation. The transfer of three and a half million pounds left your bank in Antigua and is now safely in control of The Groups’ financiers. This means, of course, that we have no further reason to keep you prisoners.

I expect you want to be placed back aboard your yacht, to go on your way and resume your lives just a little less opulently than you had hoped.

Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.

You see, The Group is a criminal organization that does not want publicity, and it has been decided that you should stay here as my guests……….permanently!”

Greta gave an even more dazzling smile as she looked at the shocked faces of her captives.

It seemed to take a few moments before the real meaning of what she had said sank into their brains, their faces now starting to register fear.

“You bitch!” Bill cried, launching himself forward to try and reach the evil smiling dominatrix.

Almost casually, Greta shot him in his left leg and he spun round and collapsed in a whimpering heap on the stone floor. Sally squealed and dropped to her knees, trying to help her big black lover. She began dabbing at the blood squirting from a flesh wound just above his knee.

The others backed away, their faces drawn with terror.

“Silly man!” Greta purred. “He will have to be bandaged, won’t he? We don’t want him to do anything stupid like dying. At least, not until we’ve had a lot more fun with that lovely big black cock of his! Anyone else want to have to limp? No? Then make yourselves at home, campers. We’ll decide who we’re going to have some fun with later on.

 You see, I like my work. So do my Boys. We are going to  dispose of you all, slowly if we can, but if you do anything stupid we are quite prepared to shoot you. Not to kill you, of course.

 We want to take our time over that.

 It seems you made a bigger mistake than ever by not dealing with me straight away, Greg Darling! Now you can watch us play some really dirty games with your lovely wife and daughters!”

Simon walked over and pulled the bleeding negro to his feet. “Come on, Sambo. I’ll put a tourniquet on that and bandage it up before you lose too much of the red stuff!”

Bill groaned, hobbling out, the fight knocked out of him by Gretas’ shot.

The others also left the cell, laughing, knowing that one of the best bits of torture was anticipation.

These poor fools would be wetting themselves wondering what was going to happen next!

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Chapter Two.

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You Thought You Had Suffered?

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Simon was enjoying himself.

He had handcuffed Bills’ wrists one each side of a chrome and leather operating table in what was laughingly referred to as the medical room.

Strangely, Bill had not struggled when told to lie on the table, even when Simon said he would have to cuff him before he worked on the gunshot.

The big man had even lifted his buttocks to help his shorts being pulled down.

The sadists had known this type of behaviour before. It was quite amazing how victims tried to pretend nothing bad was going to happen, almost as if they hoped that by acting normally, the horrors would go away.

Simon had swabbed away the blood from the hole drilled through Bills’ leg. It was a simple clean wound. The pain made Bill jerk around a bit, of course, and Simon said “I’ll have to stitch you up to stop the bleeding. Rest your ankles in these stirrups so you won’t jerk too much!”

And, like a lamb to the slaughter, Bill did as he was told.

The double “click” as the spring bars snapped shut was the first thing that made the big man realise he had been conned. Too late he tried to sit up, but his legs were locked open and raised.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to stitch up the wound…..but I’ve got to stop it bleeding first, and we’ve got a very good way to do that!”

Simon had plugged in his instrument of choice. It was heating up nicely. An industrial soldering iron.

The scream when it came was unearthly. Few people could imagine that a man could make such a terrible noise, but then few people have watched a man have a glowing soldering iron pushed into a raw fleshy hole in his leg!

Simon was already getting a hard-on.

He loved the smell of boiled blood and charred skin, working the iron to cauterise the entry and exit holes of the gunshot. The sight of this semi-naked beautiful black man writhing in terrible agony was a turn on that went to his loins like a pump. He shoved down his own shorts.

“Last time you were fucking your girl friend’s little sister when I fucked you, weren’t you, you dirty motherfucker? Liked it then, my cock up your arce and little Priscilla screaming while you fucked her brains out! Aren’t you going to get this lovely foot of muscle up for me this time? Maybe when I get going, eh?”

Simon altered a couple of settings, and Bill found his parted and shackled ankles raised up to lift his buttocks off the leather couch and present his sphincter for Simon to attack.

“Oh, you gorgeous tight-arsed nigger!” Simon growled as he started to push the glistening dome of his pale pink phallus into the almost jet black crinkly ring of the young mans’ rectum. He had to butt repeatedly, slowly moistening the ring of muscle and forcing it to spread a little, then quite suddenly his knob popped inside the tight hole and he gave a smile of victory.

Located, and thus no longer needing to use his hands to guide his attack, Simon now started to toy with the limp penis of his groaning victim. It was lovely, heavy and thick, still about ten inches long although flaccid.

“Christ, that fucking girl of yours must have a big cunt!” Simon giggled.

He closed one hand around the thick leathery black sac of Bills’ testicles, the other round the root of the cock.

“You’d better learn to enjoy this, Sunshine. When fuckin’ Greta wants to play with you, she’ll be more interested in slicing these nuts off and dicing your cockhead with a fucking razor!”

 

 

 

He was reaming the tight arsehole out now, long plunging strokes, his loins mashing into the curve of those muscular black arse cheeks, revelling in the sensation as his foreskin peeled back on the fast in strokes and wrapped forward as he almost pulled out.

He squeezed and twisted the captive cock, hurting Bill enough to get him to cry out. Faster, deeper, lunging in and out of this lovely black arse, balls swelling, tightening, nearly ready to spray deep inside this hot clinging shit-hole…..screams, it needed screams to make it perfect…

He grabbed the soldering iron, the end was actually a cherry red.

And he jabbed the sizzling metal into one side of Bills’ left buttock, branding a two inch burn in one spitting sizzling moment of delicious satisfying cruelty……

The almost woman-like scream was just what he needed. Combined with the threshing of the struggling bound man, it brought Simon to the peak he was looking for, and with a groan of superb satisfaction he let his sperm flood deep in Bills’ arcehole…….

Probably Bill had passed out for a while. Whatever. He did not remember being released from the medical table.

He was lying on the floor, hearing this strange whimpering noise, then he realised it was his own voice, and he desperately tried to pull himself together.

The boot landed in his balls with terrifying force.

He doubled up into a foetal position, retching, pain exploding all over his body.

“You thought you had suffered before, Sambo? Jesus, you black faggot. Six foot six and crying like a fuckin’ kid, and we haven’t even started to try and hurt you yet! Don’t worry.

You can have a nice rest and watch your pretty girl friend taste a bit of pain for a while! You’ll probably enjoy that.”

And Simon left the American curled on the floor, dreading what he knew was probably coming next….

And it did.

He stood between two steel poles on which multiple half hoop securing points were supplied so a victim could be chained between the posts at various heights.

Bill was standing.

His leg looked awful, the bullet holes blackened and blistered, the brand on his thigh weeping clear liquid.

When Sally was dragged in, already stripped naked, she gave a cry of anguish to see her lover so disfigured, but was unable to do anything to help as she was strapped against an oblong metal frame with arms at either side, looking rather like one of those full length dressing room mirrors but without the glass. Pivoting on the arms, the frame to which she was bound could rotate. She was upright at the moment, but could be swung to horizontal or even upside down.

A similar frame was trollied over to stand in front of her, clamped to sockets in the floor.

Then  her mother was dragged into the cave, naked, and secured to the vacant frame.

Mother and daughter faced each other, two blonde haired blue eyed beauties. Despite the traumas so far endured, Marys’ youthful figure belied her age and to any casual observer, these two naked creatures could have been sisters.

Greta wore a micro skirt of black leather. As she moved, it was obvious she had no panties on.  Her top was a low cut loose silk blouse, the cleavage of her full breasts catching the eye, and the points of her already stiff nipples showing she was also bra-less. On her feet she wore her high heeled black patent leather shoes and self support thigh length black fishnet stockings.

To be honest, she looked like a Parisian hooker, but she preferred working with some clothes on.

Her male colleagues both had short-sleeved shirts, loose black trousers, and point toed leather boots.

Greta walked around her trio of silent captives, wondering whether to start or bring the whole family in at once.

It would be a shame if Greg didn’t see what was going to happen to his wife.

“Come on, let’s bring the other two in and make it a full house. How about having them face to face over a barrel?” she smirked.

Lou applauded softly. He loved how inventive this merciless bitch could be.

Greg, arched backwards and secured over the barrel shaped equipment first, legs apart, knees secured to make sure he could not protect his private parts from attention, then lovely Priscilla, the youngest and the fairest, face down on top of her nude father, her breasts squashed to his chest, her loins pressed to the curly thatch of his pubes, very conscious that the wriggly bits down there were his cock and balls.

Mortified with shame, terrified with apprehension, the victims stared at their grinning captors, vainly hoping to see any glimmer of pity or remorse in their cruel eyes.

“Welcome to the first of many family get togethers,” Greta chuckled. “I thought it would be nice to let you all share this first evening of pain. We haven’t gagged you yet, but we probably will if the noise gets on our nerves. Please feel free to scream. That’s really the part I like best. But I have a terrible problem, you see. I’m like the little kiddie given the whole jar of cookies. I just can’t make my mind up what to do first.

Oh, one important thing. If you want a little respite any time, all you have to do is tell me you will perform a little penance to earn your rest.

I must warn you, though. If you don’t do what you are told when you get this special respite, everything you have suffered so far will be done to you again.

Now, what am I going to show you first?

You’ve all tried the shock sticks. Maybe do it again but pushed even further up your cunts or your arseholes?

No?

Something new. How about a whipping? I’ve got lots of different sorts of whips to show you. Ones that sting, ones that cut, ones that smash your flesh to a lovely red mushy pulp!”  

“You are insane!” Greg gasped.

Greta laughed softly. “Oh, Greg, if you only knew. I’m not actually insane, Darling. I’m a pervert. Have been for as long as I can remember. Hurting people turns me on. The more disgusting the things I do, the more gorgeous the orgasm I get. It’s a sex thing, Sweetie.” 

“You’re sick!” he replied, staring into her dark eyes with a mixture of disgust and dread.

“Probably, Sweetie. But I’m rich, I get paid lots of lovely money, I can have virtually anything I want, and, best of all, I can take a miserable toad like you and cut you into little pieces without anyone in the World trying to stop me.”

Sally tried, too. “Please, look, we haven’t done anything to you. Dad gave you his money. Just let us go. We won’t tell anyone what happened even.”

Greta laughed. It really did amuse her, how stupid people were. She had told them she wanted to hurt them, and they still imagined she might suddenly get all sentimental and let them go!

“You really don’t get it, do you, Sally? My two friends here like fucking unwilling partners. Lou adores smashing a pretty girl with his fists. Simon loves to make men scream in agony. And I want to disfigure that pretty body of yours.

 I want to hear what your tits sound like when I cut them off and they make a lovely wet splashing noise as they land on the floor, I want to hear you when you feel me deep inside your cunt, probing you with my electric toys or ripping your womb out with a nice shiny meat hook.

 I like it, Sally.

 I don’t want you to die, but unfortunately the games I play will kill you.

 Until then, you are just a lovely living canvas for my artistic works of cruelty. I’m going to make you all beg me to let you die. The pain I will cause you will drive you to the edge of madness.

 So don’t think you can appeal to my better nature, Darling. I haven’t got one!”  

Sally’s face was white with dread. She could hardly believe the calm way this woman said such inhuman things. She turned to Lou Cortez, who was standing close to her mother. “Can’t you do anything?” she pleaded.

Lou swung round on the ball of his left foot, right arm looping in a wide arc. He connected with Mary just above her belly button, the force of the blow knocking her breath from her body in a “whoosh” of anguish.

“Sure I can, Blondie. I can stop fuckin’ talking and get down to some fun!” And he hit Mary repeatedly, using the front of her body as a punch bag, uppercuts jerking her ample breasts into up-pointing peaks that dropped only to meet the next vicious blow, hard machine gun flurries of blows into her belly and swinging chops into her kidneys, the poor woman unable to scream because she could not draw breath before another smashing fist forced it from her lungs.

Sally was crying “No…Stop it…You’ll kill her…Noooghhh!” and then Lou stopped boxing her mother only to spin round and smash his fists into her breasts and stomach instead.

When he paused, both women were gurgling and gasping like fish out of water. He dropped his pants, an erect penis springing into view. “Now you’re warmed up, let’s get some pussy!” he drawled, and he caught hold of Sally’s hips, positioned his rampant masculinity, and drove into her with all the finesse of a bulldozer.

Simon was tormenting Bill again, playfully pulling clumps of thick black curly pubic hair from around the base of Bills’ cock, occasionally pushing one or two fingers up Bills’ back passage just for the fun of it, and taking the limp but still impressive sex meat into his mouth to suck on and occasionally deliberately nip between his teeth.

Greta had uncoiled a long finely plaited leather whip. The handle was woven into a penile shape like a big black dildoe, the lash tapering to a fine tip split into three knotted tails.

It was long enough to flip-crack, the noise sharp like a pistol shot.

She snapped it a few times close to Gregs’ head, those last few inches of leather accelerating to the speed of sound in that final bend, hence the loud “crack” that made her captives wince in anticipation of pain.

She didn’t keep them waiting long, standing to one side of the arched couple, sending the first stroke whistling down to crack across the twin globes of Priscillas’ rounded buttocks.

The eighteen year old tried to straighten her body, a total waste of energy as the bindings that secured her over the barrel were strong enough to tie down a raging bull. The line of fire that exploded over her bottom actually shocked her into a long moment of total silence. Her lovely blue eyes widened in surprise, every muscle in her body seeming to knot solid while her brain processed the feelings that were radiating outwards from the impact zone.

Below her, her father felt the reaction, actually sensing her breasts harden where they were pressed to his chest.

And then she screamed.

Greta shuddered, that delicious worm of cruel lust inside her vagina wriggling into instant life as she heard the desperate terror in that high-pitched shriek of girl pain. She drew back the whip, but waited for Priscilla to stop bucking.

A good sadist does not waste pain by layering too many sensations on top of each other. Greta was patient because she knew that a large proportion of any victims’ suffering was the dread of the pain happening again. She used her free hand to gently frot her clitoris, already erect with its sensitive hood drawn back.

The sweet rounded cheeks were slowing down their humping gyrations, Priscilla slowly regaining control of her actions. Like creamy jellies, wriggling, a faint pink line starting to blush almost perfectly bisecting each globe. Just at the crease where the thighs met the swell of the buttocks, this time……steady the whip arm, swing, hear the leather sigh as it cuts through the air, ready, down, and….flick!

The “crack” was like a pistol shot, then the second “snap” noise as leather met skin.

Greta smirked. To be able to crack a whip takes skill. To be able to do it a fraction of an inch away from a target you then flog is something very few people can do. Greta was always proud of this skill. It had to be done correctly. An inch too low, and the last few inches of the whip that actually cause the noise would rip a gash from the target, and fail to reach the speed required to make the “crack”. Too high, and the tiny back jerk that sent the wave down the length of the lash to form the snapping tip could actually pull the blow back from the target completely.

Priscilla felt as if her legs had just been chopped off.

Now her waist.

“Crack…Snap….pause….shriek!”

The rounded cheeks. “Crack…..sna..snaps….shorter pause….louder shriek”

Greta was vaguely conscious of someone else screaming, but when she was concentrating her skill like this, all her attention focussed on her victim.

Actually, it was Mary, shrieking at Greta to stop whipping her youngest daughter.

Mom was actually the only one nothing was happening to for a minute. In front of her, Lou was still enjoying fucking her older daughter, Bill was yelping and struggling as the kneeling Simon did things to his manhood that Mary could not actually see, her husband was enduring the awful sensation of his own daughters’ body writhing against his, and, of course, Priscilla was crying like a baby, convinced her bottom was now shredded to a pulp by the cracking lash.  

Forty strokes.

Every one accurate, none criss crossing each other. Doing that would heighten the risk of the skin splitting. Greta didn’t want to ruin such beautiful arce cheeks yet. She wanted a perfect canvas for some other pleasures she enjoyed inflicting on smooth girly bottom cheeks….

Greg lay limp. His eyes looked far older than his years, deep with horror. He had been looking at his daughters’ face only an inch or so above his own. He had seen her pain. Her sweat had dripped on his cheeks, her spittle run from her lips, lips drawn wide in constant screams of never-ending pain.

She had emptied her bladder during the flogging, he had felt the hot liquid spray his loins and dribble down between his legs. The smell of her urine was in the air, a strangely sweet odour, a young girls’ pee.

He had seen the first sparks of anger and fear in those lovely young eyes slowly turn to empty despair, as the hopelessness of her situation burnt away any vestige of hope from Priscillas’ mind.

And now she lay still on his arched body, her empty eyes wet with tears, her breathing short and jerky. It was as if she had been blinded. He could not see any sign of consciousness or recognition in his daughters’ face, because she had been whipped into a little shell of intense terror, withdrawn from reality into a world of suffering.

“Oh, God, Pris….I’m sorry!” he moaned, and he began to sob, overwhelmed with guilt and self-pity.

“Shut the fuck up, you wimp!” Greta snarled. She grabbed one of her penile shockers, a ribbed cock-shaped metal version in which the shocks were released in sequence along the ribs from root to tip.

She reached between the splayed legs of her arched back victims and viciously rammed the torture dildoe inside Gregs’ rectum, forcing it eight or nine inches inside his back passage.

“You want to cry, you prick…..so fucking cry!” and she squeezed the button.

Despite being arched backwards on the barrel, Greg found his body could arch even more. He bucked upwards, the  shattering agony erupting deep in his anus, seeming to pulse as it ran along the length of buried metal. He was sure he must be about to die. Nobody could survive the pain that was zapping through every muscle in his trembling body.

The wet contact between his daughters’ pee-soaked pubic lips and his own loins successfully transmitted a good proportion of electrical energy directly into Priscillas’ cunt, too.

Father and daughter danced in their bonds like helpless marionettes as the evil torturess

 played with the controls of her pain stick, jolting, tingling, blasting  shocks to their squirming naked bodies.

Gregs’ piss joined that of his daughter as his bladder contracted. Greta giggled. Some torturers were offended by the touch, smell, or appearance of ejected waste from their victims, put off by piss or faeces, wanting their subjects cleaned each time they soiled themselves to remove offensive odours.

Greta was not one of these sensitive souls. Though it did not turn her on, the smell of such things was all part of the procedure of pain, as was vomit or burning flesh. She just took care that she did not kneel in the pool of pee below her victims. No way did she want a blast from her own torture tool !

Thoroughly enjoying herself, she pulled the instrument out of Daddy and forced it up his daughters’ arcehole to give her a taste of the full force shocks. Unfortunately, already stressed so much by her whipping, poor Priscilla only took about six shocks before she passed out.

 

Lou, having had a very enjoyable time driving his cock to the limit into Sallys’ tight pussy, was trying hard not to come.

 Though there were plenty of drugs in the dispensary which would give him a very prolonged hard-on, he tried not to use them too often. He had known a few friends who had become reliant on the drugs to such an extent that they lost all sexual desire unless they had taken a high dose. Lou wanted to retain his naturally rapid ability to get hard just by hurting a woman. Causing pain was a much better aphrodisiac.

He gave a flurry of punches to Sallys’ lower belly, making some of her juices actually squirt from her well-opened slot.

Jesus, he loved punching women.

He had been a finalist in the South American amateur boxing championship some years ago, could have become a champion if he had not got a little drunk one night and let his suppressed desires escape.

The girl had only been a hostess three nights when she fell for his charms and agreed to meet him when the club closed. After making love to her, Lou had seen her naked on his bed, and the urge just took over. He had always thought how sexy it would be to really punch a woman since he first had sexy thoughts. He had wanked since he first learned how, thinking about what a woman would feel like when he hit her.

Of course, these had been secret thoughts, never to be put into practice….but maybe if he just gave her one little punch…..

After all, she was a slut, really. Working at that sleazy night club, hustling for drinks.

 

He beat her to death.

It was that first punch into her breasts. It just felt so sexy, he had to do it again….and again….then lower down….what was it like to hit her low, an illegal low blow, just above her crotch……oooohhh, yessss!

Again, hearing her gurgle in agony, seeing her eyes actually bulge from her face.

Again. Tits, belly, tits. And she was still, but the knuckles still tingled with that hot glowing feeling as they sank into her warm body, and his cock was stiffer than he had ever known it, even though he’d just finished shagging her….

It made the local papers, of course. Young boxing hopeful claims diminished responsibility over naked girls’ death.

And if it was not for The Group, he’d probably have hung or, worse, been locked up for life.

The papers ran the story of him committing suicide. Hung himself in his cell, overcome with shame and remorse for his dreadful crime. 

In fact he was learning how to keep reluctant hookers in line, being taught by a sadistic little fat Jewish man how to hurt a girl without spoiling her looks.

That was when he first used the cattle prods, getting so turned on when Solly showed him just where to put the tip of the tool in the lips of a poor bitch who was being difficult that the old man could see his erection in his pants.

“Boy, you wanna fuck da goods, fuckin’ do it. Jeez, our jobs to make em open there fuckin’ legs when dey get told to. So you want a fuck, have a fuck. But wear a Johnny ‘cos dese goils been wit a lot of dirty bastards and you don’t know what dey got down there. Me? I don’t got the energy any more. And anyway, I like the very little girls you know. So The Group lets me take a daughter maybe, back my place, keep her as a fuck toy kid.”

Lou soon realized that The Group was never shocked by obscenity or cruelty. They knew how to use the worst of human failings for gain.

Depravity was rewarded. An ability to kill without remorse was prized as a virtue.

Soon he was being used for more extreme work.

You want a rival to stop spoiling your game, you buy him off, you join forces, or you scare the shit out of him.

In the latter cases, one frequently used ploy was to get hold of something or someone your rival valued, and destroy it.

If Lou worked on your wife or mistress, what was left of her when he finished tended to convince you to do as you were told.

Which is how he met Greta, of course, his superior in both rank within The Group and skill at the art of cruel destruction.

He glanced over at her now, on her knees between the legs of her victims, gleefully poking her torture penis up the little girls’ cunt.

He loved that wonderful evil bitch.

“Darling, how about we do a bit of double tit pressing with these two? You like?”

Greta got to her feet, used the switched off metal prick in her own cunt for a few obscene thrusts to show Lou how wet she was, then came over to join him with the two standing naked females.

“That’s a good idea, Lou. We don’t want them to die too quickly. A bit of press and pin work, perhaps?”

“I’ll get the clamp bars!”

These were four foot long light aluminium bars adapted from double glazing frame extrusions.

The complicated forming gave a choice of a double angled or a multi strip and gap profile according to which way up was used. Holes drilled in the bars allowed long threaded bolts with wing-type thumbscrews to join both bars together with a six or seven inch gap which turning the butterfly nuts then reduced down to zero if required. There were various holes at the centres and ends of each bar for adding extra refinements.

Obviously, with one bar above and one bar below a nice prominent pair of female breasts, the pleasure that a  torturer could experience as the frame was slowly tightened was only matched by the agony the recipient would experience.

One had to make sure the breast meat did not pop out before a good grip was established, and having mother and daughter  facing each other was ideal.

Lou did Mary, Greta took Sally.

One left breast, one right.

A sharp steel skewer and a pair of pliers, then a coil of dull silver wire and a box of matches.

The captives watched the preparations with a sort of hypnotised horror, whimpering softly like puppies left in when their owner went out.

And then the pliers clamped the very tip of the opposing nipples and pulled until the screaming women stared down at their breasts dragged into a sharp pointed cone, ready for the needle to be slowly and lasciviously forced though the aureole of the straining nipple.

Despite being bound pretty securely to their frames, both the naked women could writhe violently enough to pull away from the clamping pliers, which was unfortunate for them, really, as the sadists gleefully caught the escaped nipples again and just squashed them even more severely so they could proceed with their needlework.

Greta and Lou twisted the needles in the pierced aureoles, watching the blood start to ooze from the widening pinhole and flow down the shaking bodies.

Pulling the needles out made the blood flow faster, but then the flow was staunched a little as each torturer snipped a length of the silver grey wire and threaded it through the pin hole, forming a sort of large wire ring by twisting the free ends together loosely.

Then they lit the wire, and the brilliant spluttering intense white light of burning magnesium lit the torture chamber like daylight.

Intensely hot, magnesium burns even under water once ignited.

It also burns whilst passing through the flesh of a pierced nipple!

Pain that transcended all that had gone before rocketed into Mary and Sally, bursting through from their breasts to their brains. They shrieked and jerked in agony as blood momentarily boiled to steam and the pierced flesh was cauterised and sealed by the white hot flare.

“Now the other ones, my little Pets!” Greta drooled.

Both mother and daughter begged and pleaded not to have the other nipple so awfully pierced, but their horrified pleading only gave pleasure to their tormentors.

This time, the victims knew what was coming. It was possibly even worse, knowing you were about to endure a pain mere words cannot describe.

More desperate screams, two more lovely nipples skewered and cauterised, and then the stainless steel rings inserted and clipped shut.

“And we haven’t even started yet!” Greta purred, licking away some of the blood from Sally’s chest. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when the real torture starts!”

They tweaked the rings, lifted them, pulling the surprisingly heavy weight of generously rounded boobs up by the impaled nipples, then letting go to watch them bounce down and shudder like firmly set jellies.

“Rod, chain, or springs?” Lou grinned.

“Springs, Darling. Keep them nice and taut.”

Cut and modified from an old chest expander, the selected springs were attached between the nipples of the women, hooked into their nipple rings.

There was just enough tension to keep the opposing teats standing firm.

Then the aluminium bars, one above and one below each pair of breasts, the long screws inserted and tightened down until the angled edge of the metal began to dig in to the soft meat of both womens udders.

By now, Mary and her daughter realized exactly what was going to happen. But there was absolutely nothing they could do to prevent their sadistic captors causing as much pain as they wished.

Already, the shiny aluminium was folding into the top slopes and biting upwards underneath each of the four shapely breasts.

The trapped flesh had nowhere to go, unable to pop out of the trap as the secured nipples were so horribly secured by the thick coil springs.

Greta and worked slowly, turning the wing-nuts on first one side and then the other, keeping the bars parallel as they squashed into creamy flesh.

The four tits were starting to bulge now, the closing metal crushing harder with every twist of the screws.

Sally was crying, pleading with the cruel torturess to spare her, saying she would “do anything” if the breast crusher could be removed.

“Would you suck my cunt for me, Blondie?” Greta grinned.

“Yes! Please, it hurts. I’ll do what you say!”

“How about if I wanted you to suck off your father and mother, too?”

Sally hesitated, but a new twist of the nuts sent a stabbing flash of pain through her bosom and she knew she would prostitute herself rather than endure such awful pain.

“Yes….I will……..I’ll do anything, but please stop the pain!”

Lou reached down and stuck two fingers into Mary’s cunt. He grinned. She was quite damp down there.

He had often read dirty stories where women getting raped and beaten suddenly get turned on and get fantastic orgasms while they are being hurt, but he had always assumed this was just a hack writers phantasy, the sort of crap such pornographic tales revel in.

But this woman had actually come when on the rack, being fucked in front of her bound husband. Could she be one of these mystical creatures who actually gets turned on by force?

He dropped to his knees and got his tongue to work on the older blondes very pretty snatch.

She tasted slightly salty, but had none of the fishy odour of some of the women he had sucked. He slipped his tongue inside her, licking up the groove and over the bump of her stiff little clit.

He could feel her shudder, but it was excitement and not pain. The bitch was turned on.

Above him, Greta was holding a long fine needle, the point just slightly denting the pinky brown centre of Sally’s right nipple. “Alright, Darling girl, we’ll have a sex break and you can give me a nice hot orgasm before you go down on your parents. After that, we break for refreshments. But, just so you know I really do want you to suffer, this is what we are going to play with for an hour or two if you annoy me!”

And, licking her lips to stop the drool of anticipation that was escaping her parted red lips, Greta slowly drove the needle over two inches deep into the shrieking captive’s crushed and swollen breast.

“Oh, God, I love it when you scream!” Greta sighed, having to close her thighs tightly to stop wetting herself as the quivers of sadistic ecstasy churned inside her sex slit. “Just think what you’ll do if I decide to cut these fuckers off!”

..

..

Chapter Three.

.

Sex Break.

..

..

Simon was really enjoying the stiff hard black cock of the six foot plus negro. He had resorted to the Viagra based stimulant, injecting an unwilling Bill with enough of the illegal special product to force his libido to over ride his brain big time. With a painfully injured leg and despite knowing he was probably going to be killed after being forced to watch his lovely fiancée butchered by these fiendish perverts, Bill could not stop the rampaging sex lust throbbing in his loins, his member standing proud, shuddering with unwanted but undeniable delight as Simon licked around the swollen knob and sucked the thick pulsing dome inside his eager mouth.

Bill was spread out on a leather-covered bed, limbs shackled to each corner post with a cushion lifting his black arse up high to make sure the glory of his penis stood out in obvious erection. Simon had toyed with his captive, crushing his balls in pliers until Bill’s screams bounced off the rock walls, then licking the blood away and sucking him almost to orgasm again.

He used the tip of his tongue to roll the thick foreskin back over the ridge of the dark pink  nob, rimming the ridge, tasting that male musky tang that set his own cock hard with desire. Bill grunted and groaned, acheing to shoot his load, feeling the insane mix of absolute hatred and intense desire. Just as his scrotum tensed in preparation to tighten and explode into orgasm, his merciless tormentor clamped the pliers shut again around his left testicle and gave an agonising sideways twist.

The American screamed, body arching upwards, driving his cock deep into Simon's throat.

It was so good, Simon did it again.

He was feeling really turned on now. A screaming man and a hard big cock.....sheer bliss.

He climbed onto the spread out negroe, positioned his buttocks above the upthrust black tool, then lowered himself down to have Bill's cock enter his anus and surge up inside him, hot, hard, and awesomely long.

"Come on, you motherfucking nigger bastard, fuck your Daddy good or I'll rip your fuckin' bollocks off, you black son of a bitch!" Simon growled, bouncing on the helplessly hard shaft, churning his own insides into molten lava, then wanking his cock as the first rushes of orgasm exploded in his rear. He had to fuck the guy....needed to shoot his load....quick.....roll off and feel the delicious suction as that big ebony boner jerked out of his asshole, then squat down between the widespread legs and work his prick into the Yank's tight arse.

He was so wound up, he only managed a few lovely  deep thrusts before the floodgates burst and he was jetting his spunk up the sobbing black man, at the same time grabbing the still hard black cock and jerking him off, too.

The first jets went up in a round arc and splattered down over Bill’s own face.

Simon jerked the thick cock-meat back a little so the next two fountain jets splashed into his own face, his tongue greedily lapping all the grey-white globules of sperm he could reach.

Oh, yes. Fresh cream from a suffering man while your own cock slowly softens in his rectum. Pure bliss.

Released from the springs and presses and unbound from the frame, Sally was learning how to lick the inner folds of a woman’s pouting labia. If she didn’t do it just right, Greta slashed a leather strap down over the kneeling blondes’ back.

“Now push your forefinger up my arcehole!” Greta commanded.

“That’s it…..a bit deeper, now move it back and forth….curl your finger a bit….faster…yeah, come on Sweetie, your learning to be a good little lezzie, now. Push your tongue deep inside me and suck the lips into your mouth….harder, roll them between your lips. Oooghhh, yes….come on, Bitch, make me come…..Ooogh…..Kerrisstt YESSSSSS……NOWWWWWW !”

Lou was on one of the couches with Mary.

She was sucking his cock and he was underneath her, sixty-nine position, chewing quite viciously on the thick swollen lips of her cunt.

She really was a twisted bitch. Each time he bit hard enough to even draw a little blood, she would gurgle and wriggle with excitement, and he got a mouthful of pre-come. She would go down on him even further, as if nearly choking herself on his shaft gave her still more unnatural masochistic pleasure.

For the first time in his life, Lou was thinking about marriage.

Just imagine a wife who comes like crazy when you knock the shit out of her. It was a shame this bitch was part of a contract by The Group. He really would have liked to save her for his own exclusive use. She was good looking, shaped like a dream, hot as fuck, and turned on by depravity and pain. What a fuckin’ waste being married to that straight faced fucker all these years……

It was a shorter session than planned.

Their climaxes had worn them out.

Sometimes it went like that. You could keep applying pain for hour after hour, enjoying each new cruelty and never tiring of seeing your victim suffer, but if you got too involved with the sex side of things, your libido got satisfied and your body needed a rest.

This time, Greg and his youngest daughter got off lightly.

Re-united in their holiday accommodation, the captives were released to take care of each other, feed, and rest.

Unfortunately, they all knew that further atrocities were going to happen whenever their fiendish captors decided to come and get them…..

.

.

.

.Chapter Four.

.

 Kill the Bitch.

.

Bill and Greg were spectators at the little Natzi tableaux Greta had arranged.

They were roped back to back, a wire with slip knot loops at each end joining the roots of their cocks.

They had to stand very still, despite being forced onto a square base plate covered with up-turned steel points.

If one moved, the wire round his shaft cut deeper and pulled on that of his fellow sufferer.

For the girls, things were worse……

.

. Sally hung by her tits.

The rings that had been put through her nipples a day or two before could not support her weight, so her tormentors had wrapped a triple coil of barbed wire around the base of each beautiful breast, pulling the loops tight so the barbs punctured her skin. Hooks in her nipple rings and two more slipped into her meat to pierce her where the top of the wire bindings crossed over her voluptuous curves were attached to a hoist operated by remote control. When she was raised just off the ground, the nipple rings pulled her lovely breasts upwards, which hurt a lot….but it was almost a pleasure when compared with the agony caused  by the hooks under the wire loops. The triple coil was strong enough to support her weight, but it was hoisting upwards into the curving out-thrust of the under-flesh of each golden globe, the twisted sharp barbs puncturing her skin and clawing into her flesh.

In front of the naked blonde, Greta was sprawling on some embroidered cushions strewn on the floor as if in a Turkish harem.

She wore a Nazi uniform, or rather a sexed up version of the S.S. outfit, tight black jacket with Deaths Head insignia, ultra short severe black skirt, dark stockings and highly polished black leather riding boots. She even had a peaked officers’ cap with the S.S. badges in silver.

The effect was very erotic if you like that sort of thing, very intimidating if you were the one she was playing with.

She did not have any underclothes, a fact made blatantly obvious by her wide open thighs exposing her pussy into which  Priscilla was pushing a large plastic dildoe.

The sisters were only one year apart, blondes with Nordic good looks. It had been a toss-up which of them had their breasts tortured.

Greta Stern was playing one of her little theme games. She was the cruel Nazi fiend, type casting for sure, and the two terrified girls had been brought in to the torture chamber to play the other supporting roles. One had to be a Hitler Youth, learning how to hurt the enemies of the Fatherland, the other would be the one to be hurt.

It was a dreadful game for Priscilla. The rules were brutally simple.

“You are my assistant, do you understand? I will decide what tortures we are going to perform on our victim, and you will do them if I tell you to. Of course, the fact that it is your older sister might make it difficult for you to do some of the nasty things I’ve got planned, so I want you to listen carefully. You refuse once, actually refuse to do what I order, and I will slit your sister open all the way from her cunt to her breastbone. You will see her guts come slithering out of her belly. You’ll smell the acid and shit smell of ruptured guts, and you’ll watch her slowly struggle and scream as her life blood gushes out in front of you until she’s dead. Remember, one refusal and she’s slit open like an over ripe peach.”

Being American, possibly Priscilla did not fully appreciate the horror of the uniform she was made to wear. A sort of sexed-up Hitler Youth field grey outfit with an unrealistic micro skirt to allow easy access to her blonde snatch, almost visible under the tiniest of grey cotton briefs.

She did appreciate the horror of what an apprentice SS interrogator had to do, however.

Helping Greta wind the barbed wire around Sally’s gorgeous breasts had made Pris cry, but she did as she was told.

“I’m sorry, Sal….I’ve got to do it or she’ll kill you!” she sobbed.

She tried not to look at her father and Sallys’ fiancée, avoiding the horror and accusation in their eyes, silently thanking God that both the men were gagged and over in a dark corner of the torture chamber.

She tried desperately to wind the wire without letting the spikes dig in, but as Greta was not giving a damn about being gentle, winding the sharp wire in a figure of eight with cruel delight, no matter how careful she was, Priscilla could not avoid hurting her sister as she shook and squirmed in agony.

Then she had to turn the winch handle that drew her sister up onto her tip-toes, begging for mercy, pleading with the smiling Nazi-costumed torturess to let her at least keep her feet on the ground.

Both sisters were entreating Greta to show mercy.

“Please, for Pity’s sake, let her keep her feet on the ground. Those wires will cut her breasts off if you make me lift her off the ground!”

“PLLEEEZZZEEE….I can’t take any more…..Please………..Oh, Dear God…….NOOOOGGHHHH!!!”

“Two more turns, my pretty little torturess. Nice and slow. Look at her toes trying to keep in touch with the floor….and see the barbs sinking deeper into her meat……that’s it. She’s off the ground. Now we sit down and watch her suffer. You can show me how much you love being my little Nazi pupil by licking my hot cunt and giving me a nice slow fuck with one of my favourite dilly toys.”

And Priscilla was working her tongue deep into the salty slit of her dreadful mistress, at the same time slowly driving a finger thick knobbles plastic rod in and out of the pink hole, her tongue getting the full taste of hot woman come as the plastic emerged and ran under her tongue, bringing juices from the depths of Gretas hole.

At least she had her back to her poor sister and did not have to see the increasing flow of blood that was coursing down from the deepening gashes in the underflesh of both Sallys tortured tits.

.

Greta allowed herself a sort of slow relaxed orgasm. Contrary to what many people, especially men, believed, an orgasm does not have to be a sudden spurting shiver of extreme emotion if you know how to get the most enjoyment from your body.

 Lying back being serviced by a tearful teen, and with the intensely satisfying sight of a naked girl hanging from slowly rupturing breasts, Greta had only to thrust her pussy just a tine bit harder against Priscillas face to tip herself into a long tingling climax of delicious pleasure that seemed to burn down the nerves of her thighs and up from the pit of her stomach until her whole body simmered with a long hot tremor of glorious depraved satisfaction.

As the heat subsided, Greta pushed her little cunt-toy away from her swollen mons.

“Now go and give your sister six strokes of the cane on her backside, Sweetie. I want them to be hard. If they don’t make a nice meaty “crack” each time they land, you’ll see her guts come out like I told you.”

Greta licked her lips. This really was ecstasy. From her reclining position, she could see Priscillas long shapely legs from behind, even see her tiny grey panties under her micro-mini Hitler Youth skirt as she walked away to pick up a bamboo cane.

“Stand to one side of her, Darling. Measure the distance with the cane. You have to hit her across the lower rounded part of her arce each time.”

There was a small but expanding pool of blood on the floor. The gashes torn by barbed wire tourniquets are messy. And Sally was beginning to lose it a little, her voice lower, the cries reduced to sort of whimpering whines like a sick puppy.

Priscilla turned her tearful face to the grinning She Wolf S.S. fiend who smiled up at her with bright cruel eyes that glittered with anticipation.

“Please…..please don’t make me do this…..it’s inhuman.”

“You want me to show you how deep I can cut her, do you?” Greta purred.

“No…I….I don’t think she can take any more……”

“Do it, you stupid blonde bitch, or I swear I’ll cut your fucking sister to shreds right now!”

.

The bamboo rod was quite light, and, even though she tried, Priscilla could not force her arm to give much power to the blow….but with strained nipple rings and tearing boobs, the extra line of pain that etched across Sallys buttocks was all that was needed to cause the dramatic reaction Greta had been waiting for.

One cry, a slight jerk of her body, then suddenly pain like nothing she had yet experienced burst like a volcano inside Sallys breasts, her body contorting, a gurgling scream of animal agony tearing from her throat, and a wet ripping sound, horrible to hear, as her breasts tore open and she dropped to the floor, tits still hanging above her, shredded meat and dripping blood……….

“Kill the Bitch!” Gerta smiled, and she got to her feet, snatched up a wire whip, and began to flog the scrabbling howling thing that rolled in the scarlet slick of blood like a vision from Hell.

Priscilla was being sick, the sight of two awful circles of ripped tissue on her older sister where once had stood such perfect breasts having finally taken away all sense of control she had.

She heard the whip singing through the air, heard the wet sound as the wire sliced deep into Sallys flesh, the ripping sound as it drew back for another stroke. She heard the gurgling choking screams slowly subsiding as the whip tore Sallys body to ribbons. Wet sticky pieces of raw meat landed on her own body, covering her little uniform with splashes of red.

Priscilla gave a little cry, retched once more, then sank to the ground unconscious in a pool of her older sisters blood.

Greta ignored the youngster, just revelling in the ferocity of ripping the older girl apart. No finesse. Just slash her belly. Rip her buttocks. Slice a nice shot right in the crack of her cunt. Face…yes, one eye ripped out. Back, torn to expose bone. Amazing, she’s still scrabbling to try and get to her knees. The power of the survival instinct frequently amazed Greta. But that stroke ripped her titless chest open.

 Die, you delicious gorgeous pain-filled tortured cunt…..die!

Later, Greta took the severed breasts in to Bill’s cell. He and Greg had both passed out during the last frenzy of violence when Greta sliced the girl to ribbons.

“Thought you might like to beat your meat off between your girl-friends tits, Big Boy!”

It gave her such a lovely feeling to see the expression in his eyes. Almost wet her panties….if she’d been wearing any.

.

.

Chapter Five.

.

More Death.

.

Lou Cortez had Mary naked on her front in a sort of head down kneeling position as he fucked her rear entrance, his hands gripping her hips and pulling and pushing her to make his cock go really deep with every in stroke.

She was smiling, her body responding to being dominated and subdued, and she was not drugged. She knew her older daughter had been killed. She knew her late daughters boy friend was at this very moment hanging in agony being tortured by that brutal queer, Simon, and she knew her husband and youngest daughter were unconscious in their cell after a whipping session.

But she was shuddering with pleasure as her pussy flowered like a carnation, her free and unbound arms a testimony to the way she had accepted her own depravity.

She wanted to be with Lou.

He was telling her about things he had done, and she squirmed inside with fascinated disgust. It was like people get a horrid kick from horror films. You wouldn’t really want those awful things to happen, but it excites you anyway.

“There were two of them” he grunted, his words jerking out in time with the thrusts of his anally housed cock. “We skinned them. Fuckin’ peeled their fuckin’ skin off in little strips, me shagging the younger one….she had a big set of tits, and I hit them until they were swollen up like fuckin’ melons. Gerta took the other ones womb out while she stayed conscious all the fuckin’ time. Like me to skin your pussy inside you, Mary, you hot fuckin’ depraved fuckin’ slut?”

God, it was going to be hard to kill this woman. He could talk to her, and she just got randier, even when he went into really disgusting details, like he’d told her about the three under age pussies in Rio, fourteen days raping and torturing the little cunts in front of their fuckin’ drug baron father and their mother. You couldn’t talk about things like that to anyone except the specialists in The Group like Greta and Simon. Mary was a sort of “real” person, and yet she listened and he was sure she got even hotter the more dirty he talked.

Christ, he’d never had a woman like her. She seemed to absorb pain and turn it into passion. Listen to her now, yelping like a puppy as he reached under her and twisted those steel rings in her nipples, just enough to make it really hurt bad. She was cumming again, he could feel her cunt muscles shuddering below his prick.

“Yes, Mary. Come, you filthy fuckin’ whore. I’m ready to fill your fuckin’ asshole with nice hot cream, Baby….yes…..come on…….ohhh, fuck me, yessss!”

He watched her take a shower, joined her, let her soap his short muscular body all over and rinse him clean. She dropped to her knees and sucked his limp dick into her mouth, playful, a captive pain toy who knew her old man and her daughters were being killed by this man and his colleagues, and yet she could smile and suck on him like they were fucking teenage lovers. 

“How’d’you do it, Babe?” Lou asked, pulling her to her feet, the two of them towelling off, naked like lovers together.

Mary turned away, not answering.

“Come on, Mary. I fuckin’ want to know. Tell me. You know Greta cut your kids tits off with barbed wire loops. You know Simon’s working on that black bastard son-in-law, probably slicing his dick off, your old man and Priscilla are getting more smashed up each day, but you can suck me off like you want to make me happy. How’d’you fuckin’ do it?”

Mary turned to look at him. Her blonde hair looked dark now it was wet from the shower, her blue eyes more sunken in her cheeks, but her body had recovered well from the nipple rings, the burns, shocks, and beatings. With a little make-up and some tasteful clothes, she could have walked out and people would look at her with admiring glances, never guessing the horrors she had suffered.

“I can’t help it, Lou. I know I should feel ashamed and so on, but I just started to feel things I’d never even dreamed of before, when all the cruelty started. I just…..my body just responds. I simply can’t not get……Oh, God knows. It’s like I’m in a dream. I stopped being their mother when that awful woman took over.

 It was the only way to keep my sanity. If you can’t do anything about it, accept it.

Then, when that woman made me come, the first time, when she licked me down there,….well, I just couldn’t hold back my urges. I honestly never knew I must be a sort of masochist until then.”

“And in the cellars, when we’re torturing the others, do you get a kick out of it?” Lou asked.

Mary shuddered. “Oh, God, no. How could I possible enjoy seeing you all hurting people I love?”

“So what if it was someone else. Those little under age pussies I told you about. See me split their little virgin cunts open, break their toes and fingers one joint at a time, making them suck cock like fuckin’ whores to try and stop  the pain…..would you watch that and get a hot wet pussy?”

They were sitting together on a comfortable well upholstered settee in Lou’s private quarters. In fact, they had been together almost constantly for about five days and nights except when Lou had some personal pleasures in the torture cells.

He had one arm round Mary’s naked shoulder and she was nestled in against him. They looked like lovers cuddling up together.

Mary was serious. She knew Sally was dead. And she knew Priscilla had been forced to actually take part in the awful torture killing. There was nothing remotely exciting to be found anywhere in her mind thinking about that.

Bill was perhaps a different matter. She had to admit to herself that the sight of his big black cock and heavy full scrotum did turn her on. But she wouldn’t really want to watch anyone hurt him.

   She closed her eyes and tried to picture Lou and three very frightened naked young girls. He would punch them. She was sure of that. He had told her of his compunction to smash his fists into women’s bodies. So he would be dancing round, heavy blows sinking into girlish flesh, his manhood erect with lust……

No. Mary could generate no arousal with these mental images. Talking about it was one thing.

In her head she could transpose reality to a peculiar personal fiction. She actually switched whoever he was talking about to herself, imagining her own body enduring the outrages he drooled about………but watching would be real, and that she would never find exciting.

“Shame, Babe. If you’d got hot from doing that shit, I might have been able to get The Group to let me keep you around as my woman. But being as you’re too fuckin’ good for your own sake, you know you’re gonna have to fuckin’ go.”

He slipped one hand between her legs, stroked her gently.

“You’ll kill me, not let that woman do it?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it. I’ll make it easy on you, Babe. Something quick.”

They were quiet for a while.

“I think…..well, if I’ve got to go, I think I would want you to do what you would really want to do to me rather than, well, you know, shoot me or something.”

Lou smiled down at her, gently squeezing her breasts. He pushed her down on the settee, lay on top of her, and kissed her. “Then I’ll beat the shit out of you so you’ll go feeling as randy as a whore!” he growled, and she smiled softly.

That was how she wanted to go.

But not yet.

Her husband, youngest daughter, and what was left of her future son-in-law still lived and could still suffer for the enjoyment of their torturers.

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Chapter Five. Goodbye Daddy.

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Greg was stretched like a star by four strong nylon ropes secured to electrically driven winch drums.

He was spread out on a large wooden bed which had a few nasty extra additions that could be brought into play.

Greta was sitting on his face, naked but for her erotic high heel boots in shiny black leather.

In her hand she held the small remote control that worked the winches, etc.

She was looking at Gregs’ youngest daughter, his only surviving daughter now Sally was dead.

The eighteen year old was dressed like a kinky hooker, black mesh stockings, micro skirt, transluscent red panties, very tight low cut blouse barely concealing her half cup bra. that was designed to lift Priscillas breasts into nipple jutting prominence.

Washed and brushed, her shoulder length blonde hair looked gorgeous. Her face was rather over made-up, but that only heightened the floozie image.

Courtesy of a goodly dose of the sex drugs, Greg’s cock stood proudly erect despite his perilous position.

And Priscilla had just been told to suck it.

Her mother was hanging upside down, naked, with dildoes inserted in her anus and vagina. She made muffled noises of protest, muffled because  Lou had his cock thrust into her throat.

Priscilla was crying softly, her spirit broken, no longer even trying to fight against the awful things her captors wanted her to do.

“Come on, Slut. A nice stiff cock. You know what a dirty cunt like you does when there’s a hard cock around. Deep throat him, Baby. Down to his short and curlies or I’ll stretch him another inch….and that will probably dislocate his shoulders.”

The girl clambered on to the table, it was too big to allow her simply to bend over to reach her fathers’ upright tool.

“That’s it. Kneel between his legs and get your head down, Baby!” Greta purred.

She saw the tears flowing from those pretty blue eyes and they acted on her roused womanhood like tremors from a vibrator. This was just so deliciously perverted.

She nodded at Simon who stood naked beside the tall American negro, also naked but for some bandages.

The huge black cock was erect, a drug induced arousal, responding helplessly to the knowing caresses that Simon provided.

“Your turn, Fucker!” Simon grinned. “Get up and take the kid in the arce while she sucks off her old man. We like to keep it in the family.”

Bills’ arms were laced together behind his back. He had ankle shackles on. A ring gag was forced in his mouth, held in place with a strap around his head. This was so Simon could fuck him in the mouth without being bitten, something he had done a lot over the past few days, especially after pulling out from the Americans’ arcehole with nice dark smelly smears around his foreskin….

“OH!” from Bill, nearest he could get to “No” with his mouth forced open.

Simon giggled. He held a slim metal rod, developed from a cattle prodder. He slid it between the whip-scarred cheeks of Bills buttocks and pressed the trigger.

“AAAaarggghh” Bill screeched, collapsing to the stone floor as if he had been pole-axed.

A double spurt of urine shot from his cock. Amazingly, the erection survived the pain.

“Come on you Black Bastard, either stick your pecker in her arce or I’ll shove this inside her and cook her fuckin’ pussy like a micro-wave! You want to see your poor dead fiancees’ sister being cunt-cooked just ‘cos you wouldn’t shaft her?

On the table, you fucker, and shaft her arce-hole now!”

It always struck the killers as amazing how people obeyed them to save being hurt or causing others to be hurt. Surely they knew that they were all going to die horribly and painfully… Why not just say “Fuck You!” and let it happen a bit quicker.

But they almost always obeyed, and the big black man was no exception. He had seen  Priscilla being raped and assaulted. He knew that she had been buggered by the men and by the woman, too, so surely it was better to push more meat inside her than let her feel the agony of the electric rod.

Because of his shackles and bound arms, he had to be helped up onto the table, kneeling behind Priscilla, Simon holding the stiff black cock and guiding it into the cleft of the kneeling girls buttocks, spitting on the tip to make it slip into her anus.

Lou pulled out of the upside down mothers’ mouth and stood to one side, keeping his saliva sheened prick hard with gentle wanking as he allowed Mary to see her husband being sucked off by his buggered daughter while Greta rubbed her pussy over his face.

The drug-induced hard-ons were somewhat different from normal erections in that they were largely caused by chemically increased blood flow rather than excitement raising the blood level to cause tumescence. This had the effect of making ejaculation less likely which in turn meant thet the erections lasted for an obscene length of time even if the poor bastard with the hard-on hated everything his cock was doing.

So it was for Bill, urged on with the threat of electric shocks to plough deep and hard into Priscillas’ stretched anal passage, making her grind her face in the groin of her whimpering father as he struggled to draw breath through the wet folds of the boot-clad tortures.

And for Greg it was the same awful inability to stop his prick from standing ramrod stiff as his youngest daughter bobbed her head up and down to fellate his manhood with frightened eagerness.

It was surprisingly quiet in the torture chamber, just wet slurping and farting sounds.

Because of this, they all heard poor Mary when she begged Lou not to make her watch the debasing of her family.

For some reason, this annoyed Greta.

She knew Lou had been spending lots of time with the older blonde. Knew that many of those hours together were not employed in causing pain, but rather sharing a strange sort of empathy.

In truth, she was jealous.

She swung her legs to the side of the table and slithered off Gregs’ face.

“Who asked your advice, Cunt?” she snarled, and before Lou had time to react, she had grabbed a knife from one of the benches and sliced off a good half of Marys left breast.

Blood sprayed over her black leather boots.

“Look what you’ve done to my fucking boots, slut!” she shouted, and the knife slashed downwards between Marys upside down legs and sank almost ten inches into her vagina.

Once started, a killing urge on Gretas part rarely stopped until the recipient of her cruelty lay dead.

This time was no exception, and Lous promise to finish Mary off himself was broken as Greta began to slash open the unfortunate womans body.

The remnants of the first breast, then the second sliced in quarters before being detached.

The cunt stab repeated after both labia had been pulled open and sliced off like puppy dogs ears.

A deep anal thrust, sawn towards the lip-less cunt until both holes became one, a blood-pouring gash, the scarlet flow running over Marys belly, joining the flow from her savaged breasts, curtaining her upside down head in blood and turning her hanging blonde hair into a scarlet dripping flag that waved violently at first as she shrieked, then more slowly as her cries turned to bubbly gurgles, blood starting to flow from her mouth and nostrils, choking, blackening, slowly suffocating her last anguished cries into a dripping silence.

On the table, Bill and Priscilla had ceased their sexual acts and were staring in sick horror at Marys ripped corpse.

Bills penis still jutted out like a flag pole.

Behind him, on his back, Greg had been spared a good view of the mutilation of his wife, but could see enough to know she had been torn to death. His cock, shining with his daughters salisa, remained obstinately jaunty as if he had got a kick out of seeing his lovely wife destroyed.

“I’ve had enough of these snivelling shits!” Greta snarled, panting from both the exertion and the immense sexual rush her wanton destruction had caused. “You want their cocks, Simon? I’m going to pull this old bastard apart.”

She picked up the control. “Say your prayers, you stupid stubborn bastard!” she shouted at Greg. “Loved your fucking money so much you sentenced your kids and your wife to death, you greedy sonofabitch. Well, time for you to join them….see if you can put the bits back together when you catch up with them, eh?”

She started the arm winches and Greg gave a horrible almost womanish scream as the winches tore his shoulder ligaments and wrenched the bones from their sockets.

Simon, not wanting to lose the chance of chopping off a nice stiff cock, grabbed a pair of pincers that had been resting in a small electric furnace. The jaws glowed. When they closed around Gregs penis, the flesh literally exploded in a sizzling spitting spray of charred skin, boiling blood, and steam.

Greta switched the other two winches on. The sound of the spreadeagled mans hips being cracked apart was almost explosive.

Red hot pincers tore his scrotum, ripped away his balls, sizzled inside his anus and tore smoking strips from his groin.

There were horrid grinding noises, then one arm was ripped off and the body twisted violently as on of the four stretch points went loose, but almost immediately his right leg tore off.

Bill and Priscilla had thrown themselves off the table, utterly horrified by the explosion of violence.

It did not do them any good.

Simon leaped onto the big black man, straddled him, facing the still priaptic prick. He severed the foreskin, peeling it from around the glans like he was skinning a rabbit.

He sliced off the knob and rammed it inside the ring gag so Bill had his own bloody prick head to swallow, or choke.

Then he bent over and began to chew off the black mans balls.

Lou and Greta, leaving the dismembered husband and the slashed dead wife, began to sport with the still astonishingly good looking blonde teenage daughter.

Lou fisted her, Greta used her blood-spattered shiny black boots to kick her.

They heard her ribs crack.

Lou held her arms down to enable Greta to stamp on the girls fingers, breaking them, then snapping her arms at the elbows.

They took turns kicking her in the cunt until they heard pelvic bones shatter and her legs suddenly seemed to flop around in impossible angles.

Lou stood back when he saw how the delicious depraved Greta was going to end it.

He did not want to get splashed.

She had a water pistol, but it was loades with sulphuric acid.

She shot out Priscillas eyes, pausing so they could listen, watch, and smell as the corrosive acid burned into her eyeballs.

Then her cunt crack and belly, and her pretty tits.

Bubbling corrosive seams opened up, smoking and spitting.

The girl was making an amazing amount of noise, shrieking as her mindless body thrashed around in the slick of blood from her relatives, sightless, slowly becoming breastless, then erupting as her stomach walls were eaten through and her struggles became mere shudders, her screams faded to gurgling whimpers, and finally, at long last, merciful death solved her problems.

“Fancy a fuck?” Greta growled.

“Too right!” Lou answered.

“I’ll hose down to clear the fucking mess….you two enjoy yourselves!” Simon laughed.”I’ll probably toss myself off into that black bastards mouth one more time, give him a last gobfull of sperm to let him swallow his cockhead, eh?”

Laughing, the trio of killers continued their lives without one moment of regret or guilt about what they had just done.

The only regret, as usual, was that the victims were dead so there was nobody to play with…..but The Group would no doubt want someone new to be terrorised soon.

They all hoped the victims would be strong and attractive……

 

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THE END.