CUNTROL By Llabmik Chapter 1 - Pick A Bitch He liked to think of himself as the Elevator Rapist because that's where he scooped all his victims. He didn't think the police had a name for him because he was a tidy man and, as far as he knew, none of his victims had surfaced. It was a bright sunny day and Fred was on a cunt hunt. Fred liked his victims to select themselves. The elevator repairman had scoped out a few of the early rising, office working babes. It was just a question of getting one to volunteer. Noontime brought his prey out to feed and shop. Fred lounged on the park bench outside the office tower, waiting for one of his candidates to take her lunch break. He had taken a few days off work for the hunt. Candidate number one strode briskly out of the office building. Fred was dressed in a bright plaid suit with a big billed cap pulled low over his eyes, obscuring his face almost completely. He looked like a goof. He walked up to the leggy, chestnut haired beauty. "Excuse me? Can you please direct me to the Sporting Hall Of Fame? I know it's around here somewhere!" Patrice smiled at him warmly. She pointed a carefully lacquered fingernail at the subway entrance. "Just hop on the subway and go one stop north. It's right by the Jane Street exit." He bobbed his head gratefully. "Thank you, ma'am!" He obligingly descended the stairs to the subway, waited a minute and then came back up to resume his quest. Candidate number two stepped out of the building. A big-chested, raven haired beauty, Bobbi arched a sceptical eyebrow at his bright plaid ensemble complete with stupid looking hat as he stepped up to pop her the question. People remembered the clownish outfit. They didn't pay any attention to the man inside it. Despite all this, Bobbi gave him a friendly smile as she directed him to the Sporting Hall Of Fame. She even walked with him partway to the subway entrance to make sure that he got there and went over her simple directions twice more as she did so. Although she was clearly in serious doubt about the fashion-challenged man's intelligence, she was courteous and warm, wishing him well as he descended the stairs. He got back to his post just as the elevator disgorged Karen, candidate number three. Stepping out the front door of the office tower, the willowy blond glanced at him disdainfully like he were some sort of slimy, poisonous toad and then affected not to see him as he stepped up and tried to engage her attention. "Excuse me, ma'am?" Karen turned and walked away. He ran after her and lightly touched her arm to get her attention. "Excuse me, ma'am? I wonder if you could direct me..." Her voice was low and venomous. "Fuck off, creep! Don't you get it? I don't talk to retards! If you touch me again, I'll call a cop!" She stared at him haughtily, curled her lip and strode off, her high heels clicking angrily on the sidewalk. Fred smiled after her. Bingo.
Chapter 2 - Cunt Licker Karen firmly believed in fucking her way to the top. She strapped on the dildo and began to grease it up. The President's wife simpered shyly up at her from the bed. "Karen, you're so masterful!" Karen smirked. Opening the fuckhole of the wife of the President of her company seemed like a shrewd move. Jason Masters was off on a trip. His wife was lonely and a notorious fairy femme. Slim, big breasts, with long, flowing, dark red hair, in many ways the archetypal trophy wife, Annabel liked strong women. Karen had a knowing, smirky bitch sort of face that was honey to the fluff dykes. Jason's wife was a dedicated fitness freak and picked up all her feminine companions at a women-only health club that Karen had been careful to join. Karen was brusque. "Spread 'em, Annabel." Annabel grinned lewdly and parted her thighs. She groaned as Karen eased in her monster member and began pumping her hips. The strap-on dildo snaked in and out of Annabel's wet hole. She rudely stuck her tongue in Karen's ear. Karen sniggered and they delicately touched the tips of their tongues together, daintily rubbing the edges against each other, slowly working into deep french kisses. They were roughly the same height and their erect nipples brushed as Karen pumped, using the steady, long, deeply probing thrusts that Annabel loved. A dedicated climber, Karen made sure that Annabel was thoroughly pleasured. When they had finished making the beast with two backs for the first time, she got out a bottle of baby oil and began squirting the warm liquid onto Annabel's well-muscled, athletic legs. She started a full-body massage, starting at Annabel's shapely feet and working upwards. She skilfully kneaded Annabels' heart-shaped calves, loosening up any knots Annabel might have from her hard workouts. Annabel groaned as Karen's knowing fingers worked her naked thighs and buttocks and then delved between her parted legs for a well-lubricated finger job. She parted Annabel's wet, engorged labia and massaged Annabel's stiff clit and aching g-spot. Annabel gasped and moaned prettily in multi-orgasmic bliss. When Annabel was sated for the time being, Karen moved on to a mind melting back massage, her thumbs digging in and loosening up the muscles along either side of Annabel's spine, moving in small circles and slowly working upwards. Then came a series of long, strong strokes using the flat of her hand, smoothing outwards from the spine to the either side. A neck massage followed, squeezing and smoothing the muscles just under the skull and along either side of the vertebrae. She rubbed Annabel's shoulder muscles briskly. Karen smirked. "Roll over, Annabel. Let's get that pretty face in action." Annabel rolled over, grinning lewdly. Karen oiled Annabel's big boobs, teasing her nipples erect. Annabel was pure trophy wife. She had it all. Karen's face was one big dirty snigger as she straddled Annabel's head, facing her belly. She lent forward to lick Annabel's crotch while she snuggled her wet cunt into Annabel's sweating, licking, sucking face. Karen came shamelessly and repeatedly in Annabel's face, smothering her in cunt-juice. When they were done, Karen snuggled up to her, smirking smugly. "It really takes a woman to know what to do. Men just don't measure up!" Annabel sighed. "That's so very true, but the money's very nice. Anyway, executives work very long hours and are usually too pooped to pop when they do get home." Karen laughed. "No matter how high up the corporate ladder I go, I'll never be too pooped to pop you!" She picked up the dildo coyly. "Feeling greedy, girlfriend?" Annabel's eyes gleamed. "Absolutely! Show me a man who can make me cum a zillion times in a night!" Karen was smug as she strapped the dildo on once more. "He doesn't exist, Annabel. Just remember me when your husband asks about who to promote." The sweating, cumming lesbians worked hard once more to make the spare bedroom smell like cat-piss.
Chapter 3 - Dick Licker Bobbi smiled pleasantly at Karen and briefed her quickly, the ever-helpful secretarial assistant. "Jason is expecting to see you right after lunch. He wants the usual report on how things went in his absence and, apparently, landed a significant contract for the company." Karen winked at Bobbi, knowing the importance and legendary horniness of the President's secretary. "Thanks for the tip. Us women have to stick together!" Bobbi nodded, a dedicated feminist. She did Jason regularly, but that was just business. Her real interest lay in the gay sisterhood. "You said it, sister!" She glanced around to make sure no one was watching and eyed Karen's figure brazenly. "You want to come over to my place tonight?" "I have a better idea! You come over to my place. It's your turn to do me!" "Greedy bitch!" "Absolutely!" The two lesbo beauties enjoyed a dirty snigger together. After lunch, Karen made a quick trip to the washroom, removed her bra and buttoned her jacket so that no one would notice. She stuffed the bra in her purse. That done, she bustled officiously to Jason's office. Bobbi was busy typing at her PC, but nodded her in. Karen spoke earnestly to Jason as she strode in to his, briskly exuding executive competence. "I suppose you want your usual report and I hear that you landed a contract!" Jason laughed. "Good news travels fast!" She shut the door behind her and dropped the act. She eyed Jason coyly, shrugged off her jacket, unbuttoned her blouse and opened it wide. She jiggled her big bare tits shamelessly. "Did you miss the twins?" "Bring those puppies over here!" He turned in his chair, unzipped and pulled out his tumescent member. He wasn't exactly an imaginative lover but, in his position, he didn't have to be. Sexually, he was a quick squeeze and a squirt. This was easy on the women around Jason, all of whom were basically just using him. The fact that they didn't have to waste much time on the sex was a bonus as far as they were concerned. He was only getting laid because he was the president of a prosperous company. If he had to rely on his charm and looks, none of them would have given him the time of day. Karen dropped to her knees, took his scrotum in her mouth and hummed Hail To The Chief. It was corny, but it worked. The patriotic hum job hoisted his flagpole. Karen slurped on his joy rod. covering his sugarstick with her spit, licking long, sucking hard and deep throating him skillfully. She made sure that her big boobs bobbed pleasantly as she laboured. She sucked hard on his knob to make him rock hard. She stroked the sensitive underside of his penis repeated with her tongue. Then sucked it in to her throat, swallowing it right to the base. Under the skillful ministrations of a master of the deep throat, he came quickly. She licked him clean and zipped him back up, her duty done. She insouciantly left her blouse unbuttoned as she took her brush from her purse and brushed her hair back in place while they discussed his trip. She buttoned up, put her jacket back on and gave him a quick kiss, continuing to be the perfect corporate suck-up. "Can you taste your jism on that kiss? I still can! I think your spermwad shot right to the end of my stomach like a Tomahawk missile!" "At least it's not a Scud! Those things are always misfiring!" Karen sniggered appreciatively and laid it on with a trowel. "You never misfire!" She stared at his crotch admiringly. "You sure have a powerful pecker there, a real firehose squirt nozzle!" Jason looked suitably gratified at this brazen flattery. Karen left, thinking that he was a hell of a lot easier to satisfy than his wife, though not as much fun. She wondered how corny she could get away with being. Hail To The Chief! Jeez! She wondered if he would recognize 'The Monkey Wrapped His Tail Around The Flagpole'.
Chapter 4 - Bagging The Bitch The next morning was the start of another beautiful summer day. Small birds twittered and burbled liquidly as the sun rose in a fiery crimson blaze. Her callipygous hips swayed hypnotically inside her slinky black dress as Karen pumped along smoothly in shiny black high heels. The slim blond moved with elegant arrogance into the elevator. A compulsive early riser, Karen felt that she accomplished a lot more first thing in the morning than the lazy lay-a-beds did in the whole rest of the day. On another note, she wondered how much she smelled like a cunt after a hard night's fucking. Her lesbian encounters were particularly rich in cunt juice. Last night, Bobbi had been energetic, knowledgeable and tireless. Karen had a sneaking suspicion that, no matter how hard she scrubbed, the next morning she still smelt like a porked cuntlet. Just as the elevator doors were shutting, a hand inserted itself and they were forced open again. Karen rolled her eyes and waited impatiently as Frederick Edward Hanover, dressed in a janitor's uniform, pushed a big plastic trashcan on wheels into the elevator. He studied the panel and pressed a button for a higher floor than Karen had selected. Karen didn't like men much, though she put out for Jason regularly to push her career along. Having done both husband and wife, she much preferred red-haired Annabel, but, realistically, fucking the Pres was going to take her further, career-wise. With this unhappy thought in mind, Karen eyed Fred sourly. "Don't they have a service elevator? Do I have to share the passenger elevator with garbage?" She made it clear by her tone that the term garbage referred as much to him as to the contents of the trash can on wheels. Fred adopted an italian accent. "The service elevator, she's-a out of service, lady!" Karen shook her head and ostentatiously turned her back to him. As the doors slid shut, she stared up at the indicator lights over the door. Fred loved the old fashioned methods. As the elevator began to ascend, he pulled the sock out of his pocket. It had a big potato in the toe. Standing behind her, he swung the sock hard and clipped Karen across the back of the head. Her light, golden hair flew wildly as her head bounced off the closed doors of the elevator with a loud thump. Stunned, she sank to her knees. He clipped her hard again and she fell, face first, onto the floor. Moaning, she groggily lifted her head. He swung hard. One more brutal tap put her under. Fred smiled happily. Being an elevator maintenance man had it's advantages. He quickly unlocked the maintenance panel with a master key and put the elevator on manual service, halting it between floors. He flipped open the top of the garbage can and tossed her handbag in for future reference. You could learn a lot from the contents of a woman's purse. A firm believer in field stripping his prey, he unzipped the slinky black dress and pulled it off. He removed her high heels, revealing small, perfectly polished toenails. He tossed the high heels in to the trash container. He liked keeping bras, panties and high heels as trophies of the hunt. He unhooked her bra and uncupped full, firm breasts topped by exquisite dark red nipples. He peeled off her pantihose revealing fine whispy blond pubic hairs, smoothly rounded buttocks and a tight slit. Although he hated pantihose, it was always a pleasure to capture a snotty bitch who didn't believe in wearing panties. It showed that she had some juice to her. He sniffed. It definitely smelt like the cunt was getting laid. He wondered who the lucky guy was as he tossed her bra and pantihose in as further trophies, to be gloated over in masturbatory recollection later. He loaded Karen's naked body into the trash can and snapped down the top. He sent the elevator down to the street level. Wheeling the garbage can down the back alley to his van, he whistled cheerfully, a maintenance man taking the garbage to the dumpster. He opened the windowless back doors to his van. He like to think of it as the rape-mobile. He did some of his best work in the privacy of his rape-mobile, forcing haughty, reluctant bitches to open their fuckholes to him. He was backed into a corner of the alley that no windows overlooked. He glanced around, flipped open the top of the garbage can and tipped Karen's delectable bare bod onto the cool, steel floor of his van. He stored the garbage can to one side. Then he hopped in and closed the doors. It was time to prep Karen for action.
Chapter 5 - Prepping The Prey Steel handcuffs were bolted to the top of a steel frame he'd constructed in the back of the van. He hoisted her up and snapped the cuffs tightly around her slim wrists. Karen dangled limply from the apex of the A-frame. Fred didn't like his meat talking back to him. It frustrated the cunts if they couldn't yap at him. He just wanted them to squeal and grunt like the pigs they were. While stalking Karen, he had overheard her remarking that she never ate breakfast, couldn't be bothered. This had given him an idea. It's not good to skip to skip the morning meal, so he had thoughtfully prepared breakfast for her. He pulled a tasty, urine-soaked sponge wrapped around a thick turd from a ziploc plastic bag. He parted her lips and stuffed it into her mouth. He loved thinking about the inevitable moment when the bitch, in a moment of supreme panic and stress, swallowed the piss-soaked fecal sponge. Until she gulped it down, Karen would spend her every waking moment sucking on it, feeling it carefully with her tongue, tasting it, wondering what the horrid object in her mouth was. Tiny bits of fecal matter and urine would be trickling down her throat almost continuously. Most snotty bitches probably hadn't spent much time eating shit and drinking piss, so Fred was happy to engineer some quality time tasting a turd for Karen. For now, Fred worked to seal in the goodness. He took a curved sailmaker's needle, normally used for sewing canvas, and some stout black thread. He knotted one end of the thread. Pinching her lips tightly together with his fingers, he punched the needle through both lips and stitched them together. He used big loops of the thick black thread, pulling them tight, sealing in the yummy sponge. When he was done, he tied off the end and snipped the thread close to the knot with a pair of scissors. Fred wasn't too keen on the language of the eyes either. He liked his bitches locked deep in a dark, sightless world of worry, anguish and sudden, unexpected pain, not able to see what was going to happen next, unpleasantly surprised by the brutal little games that were so dear to his heart. He pulled out the needle and thick, black thread. He knotted the end of the thread. Pinching her long eyelashes together with his fingers, he lifted them up from the surface of the eyeball. He stitched each pair of eyelids together, using rows of small stitches. It was important to have the meat fully exposed, totally vulnerable. To this end he tied two loops of clothesline around her dainty ankles and fastened them to ringbolts set in either side of the steel frame, spreading her shapely legs wide and exposing her pouty, 'split apricot' slit nicely. Not wanting any messy accidents in the back of his van, he parted her smooth, unresisting buttocks, exposing her wrinkled brown rectum. He poked in his curved sailmaker's needle and stitched her rectum shut. It was no loss to him. He wasn't a backdoor man anyway. It was time to reward himself. He put some cushions on the floor of the van so that, kneeling on them in front of her, his knees were comfortable and he was hip to hip with his victim. Excited by his exertions, he pulled out his thick dick, oiled it up with some baby oil for ease of entry, and encunted her. Quickly, he bunny-fucked her unconscious nakedness, emptied himself copiously deep inside her and withdrew. Wiping his dick clean and pulling his pants back up, he stepped through the curtain to the front of the van, hopped happily into the driver's seat and drove off. In the back, Karen dangled loosely, swaying with the movement of the van, his cum dribbling thickly down her widespread inner thighs. After a nice drive to the country, he pulled into a disused lane. He turned off the engine and stepped into the back of the van. He could tell by the moans and whimpers that Karen was awake. It was time to play with his new fleshtoy.
Chpater 6 - Playtime Karen's battered skull felt like it was exploding. Her sewn up lips were sore, red and swollen around the black stitches. Her mouth, sucking on the urine-soaked fecal sponge, quite literally tasted like shit. Her stitched up rectum burned. Her hands were turning blue from the tight constriction of the unyeilding steel cuffs. Her arms felt like they were pulling out of their sockets as she dangled helplessly, legs spread wide. Karen's mind gibbered in the uncomprehending horror that melts the mind of every random victim of violence. She was on the corporate fasttrack to the top. She was fucking all the right people. This couldn't be happening to her! She struggled to wrap her mind around the concept that one vicious pervert could make it all go away because this was his idea of a good time and, to him, she was just a piece of fuckmeat! Naked, hurt and helpless, Karen moaned and whimpered, locked deep in a dark, sightless miasma of pain, horror and misery. Fred grinned. It was time for a little foreplay. Karen felt the van shift with his weight and heard him closing on her. Her ears strained, desperate for a clue as to what he was up to, what was happening and, most important of all, what was going to happen to her next. She heard a jar top unscrewed, the clatter of wood on steel, followed by a squishy, rubbing noise, accompanied by evil laughter. It was all confusing and deeply disturbing. Fred chuckled as he greased up the sawed-off broomstick handle and rammed it up her cunt. Karen squealed like a steam calliope. She shreiked and struggled frantically as he pumped it energetically in and out of her fully exposed, aching, prick pocket. When he was sure that she felt like a piece of meat, he pulled out his dick, oiled it up and slipped it into her inflamed, hot passage. Karen moaned as she felt him part her vulva a nd penetrate her throbbing genitals. Fred settled in for a long, leisurely rape of his moaning, groaning victim. As any pimp will tell you, a good series of rapes will cut the snot out of any bitch. Karen began to sag in defeat. To keep her lively during her second rape of the afternoon, he pulled out an electric shocker called the "F.O.!!!" designed, ironically, to help a woman repel a rapist. Humping steadily, he carefully touched the electrodes to her bare bum and pressed the switch. Her naked buttocks jerked. Karen squealed sharply between her aching, stitched up lips and tensed beautifully. Her tight warm cunt tightened delightfully around his rock hard gristle. He came ecstatically, once more emptying his crud deep inside her. He pulled himself out. Fresh cum dribbled down her inner thighs to join the crusted crud from his previous efforts. Certain medical procedures seem to have as their primary aim the complete humiliation and degradation of the patient. Fred opened a tool box and withdrew a thin plastic tube and a jar. Squatting down, he worked the plastic catheter up her pisser. Karen grunted and squeaked in distress, squirming in discomfort as the thin tube painfully penetrated her urethra. At last, it was in deep enough to bypass her sphincter muscles. Her bladder drained down the tube, emptying into the jar. Fred didn't want her to have the option of pissing herself. He liked total control of his bitches. To make sure, he took out the needle and thread and put a quick couple of stitches through her urethral opening, pulling it tight and knotting it off. Completely degraded, Karen blubbered hopelessly, feeling lower than whale shit and that's at the bottom of the ocean. He went over to a small propane burner. He put a thermometer in and carefully heated a large saucepan of cooking oil to 98.6 degrees Farenheit - blood heat. He poured some over Karen's head and worked it into her short blond hair and exposed facial skin. He made sure that her delicately sculpted ears were exposed to view, neatly combing her hair around them. He picked up the saucepan of heated cooking oil and proceeded to pour it onto, and work it into, every square inch of exposed female flesh. He rubbed it into her arms, her soft shoulders and her shaven armpits. He paid particular attention to her butterbags, lovingly squeezing and kneading the oil into her soft breasts, working it into her dark red nipples with surprisingly gentle fingers. He spread the oil with long, smooth strokes down her sides and over her taut bare belly. He dribbled it into her whispy blond pubic hair and, repeatedly holding some in his cupped hand, bathed her genitals until they glistened. He parted her cuntlips and worked it in with humiliating thoroughness, fondling her lewdly, penetrating her obscenely. Karen grunted as he oiled up his long middle finger and pumped it in and out of her fuck hole. He went behind her and smoothed warm oil over her bare back, working down until he got to her naked buttocks. He squeezed, smoothed and massaged warm cooking oil into her quivering, milky white ass-globes. She cried brokenly as he used the side of his hand to scrub it briskly into the crack of her ass and over her swollen rectal stitches. Coming from behind this time, he once more oiled her privates with a wonderfully invasive finger-rape. She hummed frantically into her mouth stitches as his long fingers delved much deeper than before, past the knuckles. He buried his arm forearm deep and pumped hard with his fist. Her naked torso heaved as she breathed hard, trying vainly to find a way of handling it all. He poured most of the rest of the cooking oil down her quivering thighs, the back of her knees and over her firm young calves. He rubbed it in using both hands. There was nothing funny about it, but he forced her to laugh helplessly as he rubbed it into the cringing soles of her bare feet. He kept her twisting and writhing futilely until he was sure that her sides hurt, then he stopped. He positioned the sunlamps. He put one behind her aimed at her milky white ass, but placed far enough back so that it would shine on her back and legs as well. He put another aimed at her snow white breasts, but again far enough back so that it would shine on her stitched shut face, bare belly and naked thighs as well. The third he placed on the floor of the van, aimed up at short range squarely at her exposed dripping cunt and the insides of her glistening thighs. Fred figured from her Karen's milky white skin that she would burn easily. A burn is the most excruciating injury a human can sustain. The pain never dulls, but throbs continuously. Parts of the body that seldom see the sun burn to even more excruciating redness than other parts. Cooking oil, unlike suntan oil, enhances the cooking process by holding in the heat of the sizzling meat. Fred went outside, cranked up his portable generator and plugged the sunlamps in. Karen began to cook. Fred glanced in regularly and was pleased to see how quickly her fair skin reddened. He could he her muffled squeals even over the roar of the generator. When she was bright, bright red all over, he turned the generator off. He went into the van to inspect his toasted muffin. He could hear the sizzle of cooking oil and the smell of cooking cunt. He waited a while for his basted bitch to cool off, admiring the sinuous writhing of her naked body, enjoying the hard sobbing and the pathetic little whimpers. Karen was still cooking, her skin turning a brighter red as he watched. Smiling wickedly he reached between her legs and fingered her throbbing clit. Pretty Karen screamed. He squeezed and twisted her burning breasts. Pretty Karen shreiked. Grinning hugely, he oiled up his erect penis once more. Karen sobbed as he grabbed her fiery red buttocks, kneading them like dough. She shreiked dementedly as he plunged his pikestaff in. Her painfully swollen cuntlips enveloped his penile piledriver, warm, tight and hot, hot, hot. He pumped his hips and began some serious bonding with his bitch. As he pumped her, he ran his fingers lightly over her raw sunburnt skin. Karen moaned and writhed feverishly as he brutally ravished her, her red hot, bare breasts mashed against his chest. This was the big one. Karen's muffled screams and panting were a delight right next to his ear. No need to turn the volume up. Karen was cranked to the max, the stitches on her badly swollen lips tearing slightly and seeping blood as she shreiked into them. He felt her throat work as, in her desperation, she swallowed the piss-laden fecal sponge. Fred gave a small grunt of satisfaction and kept pumping his thick dick in and out, enfolded luxuriously in the warm depths of her hot, tightly swollen cunt as her naked body squirmed against him. He kept it going as long as he could but, at last, his party python horked a large lugey of peckersnot deep inside her. Grinning hugely as he slithered his dick out of her hot, snug passage, Fred pulled out a package of brand new clothespins with very strong stiff springs so that they had a good bite to them. He licked her cooked coral pink ear and whispered evilly. "Now that you've been cooked, I'll clip on the electrodes so that I can deep fry you at my leisure." Fred began by clipping clothespins to her pert nipples. Naked, exposed, raped over, cooked medium rare, thinking that she was going to be electro-shocked again, poor stitched-shut Karen moaned in fear. Fred bent over, reached between her legs, peeled back the folds of raw red, sensitive skin and snapped one over her clit. Karen let out a small squeal of anguish. He pulled out more clothespins, brutally pinched the sensitive skin of her labia and snapped on several more. Poor Karen, trapped in a blind, nightmare world of rape and pain, was blubbering continuously like a colicky baby. He didn't bother greasing the broomstick handle this time, but reamed her hard. Karen squealed like a stuck pig and felt like roasted dogbarf. He unslipped the clothespin from her clit. He took a small needle and repeatedly jabbed the small sliver of steel into her red, bruised and swollen love button. Karen shreiked and jerked convulsively with every vicious little jab. She filled her lungs enchantingly and screamed and screamed and screamed, long and hard, high and shrill. At last, haggard, exhausted, completely fried mentally and physically, she fainted. It was late at night. Karen awoke slowly and miserably, light-headed and feverish from shock. While she had been out, Fred had taken a large carving knife and sawed off her tits and buttocks. He wrapped the lightly cooked female flesh in plastic and put it in a cooler for future yummy reference. As she gained full consciousness, Fred kicked the cement block over the side of the boat and into the deep, murky water of what was rumoured to be one of the deepest lakes in North America. Karen's well-formed feet, firmly encased in the big block of quick-drying cement dragged her down towards the depths. Fred grasped her head by the ears as it disappeared under the surface. He held her face just under the surface and watched with interest. The cold water had soothed her burns and revived her. Her wrists wired together behind her back, Karen jerked and juddered like a hooked fish. After a few moments of frantic, futile struggle, a twin stream of bubbles issued from her nostrils and she sucked in a few good lungfuls of water. It calmed her immediately. Shortly after that, she was still and Fred released her. Dragged down by the heavy load of cement, Karen vanished forever. Happy, but tired, Fred gunned the motor. He started dreaming of his next bitch and thinking up recipes for tit tortellini and rump roast.
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