Opening Disclaimer: This is really not the type of story i would normally read. It goes a bit into the extreme for me, and i am dreadfully afraid of fire. That being said, the comments i make are based on story structure and mechanics, not content.

Content considerations aside, you have a nice story-telling rhythm. With some tweaking and polishing, this could be a nicely written piece.

Maybe brush up on punctuation. In the sticky section of this sub-forum there is a link to the Purdue Online Writing Lab. Lots of good stuff on mechanics, in concise easy to understand lessons.

For a piece of this nature, shorter sentences could be more effective; they would increase the pace and the tension.

i stopped correcting grammar about midway. You see what needs to be looked and fixed. You will learn more by doing it yourself.

All in all a fine first assignment. i will get your next one up today or tomorrow.

r

Quote Originally Posted by bmtphoenix View Post

Frederick was insane. He loved nothing more then (than)to set things on fire and watch them burn. A true pyromaniac, he had been arrested six years prior for setting an abandoned building on fire, and was now, not only insane, but corrupted. The man had not lived in a building for years, because he could not stand to be in any structure without burning it down. The entire time he was in prison he had felt like he was suffocating. Lack of sex drove his anxiety and frustration to even higher levels. (i would simplify this to "Sexual frustration had driven his anxiety to even higher levels." Not an ugly man by any stretch, Frederick had enjoyed a very healthy sex life with whatever woman would give him the time of day on any given night. (This sentence has several cliches; find more original ways to say the same thing.) The lack of sex and flames, together with the constant feeling of suffocation, drove him even further insane, and his malfunctioning brain began to put things together.


By the time he was out, Frederick had three things on his mind: sex, fire, and suffocation. He had a rage inside of him that could only be quenched by inflicting the torture he had endured upon another. No longer attractive, or even stable enough to carry on a conversation, he paced down the street (changed to "paced the streets"),like an animal looking for prey. Every woman he saw he envisioned (move this to the front of the sentence)tortured, in flames, suffocating as he had for so long in prison.

A few miles away from the prison, after the cold winter air had penetrated the haze in his mind a bit, he began to plan. The first thing he would need is a woman for sure(delete), he decided. Not just any woman though…he wanted a high class woman. A tall blonde one would suit his purposes just fine. In the distance he could see a subdivision with some large looking (delete) houses. He decided to head in that direction and see what, or who, he could see.

It didn’t take long, probably because his criteria were pretty broad. As he walked down the sidewalk he spotted a tall blonde woman across the street, exiting her big blue SUV and headed for her front door.

She was lean, with smallish breasts and backside with long, straight blonde hair coming down to her mid-back. She was dressed stylishly in a long button up denim blue shirt-dress with a wide brown belt and brown boots. The blue cashmere muffler that was twisted around her neck is what really got Frederick’s attention, though. Just the sight of something wrapped around her long, slender neck got him thinking about the suffocating feelings he had endured in prison…

How dare she mock him like that?

Amazingly, Tiffany Korbitz, the 36 year old realtor, didn’t notice the creepy looking (delete) (don't just tell us he is creepy; show us. Does he have a deranged fire in his eyes? Does his tongue continually snake out to lick his lips? If i saw his looking at me on the street, why would i be concerned?)man staring at her from across the street. Such are the dangers of a high stress career…you never know what important detail you might miss.(This bit seems a bit intrusive, pops the reader out of the story for a moment.)

Frederick crossed the street in a hurry, looking around to see if anyone noticed him. It was well before five in the afternoon, so very few people in the upper-middle class neighborhood were home. Tiffany was actually just (delete)stopping by to pick up some paperwork.

The tall blonde was making her way to the front door with a folder, re-arranging her muffler, when the door slammed open. The sight of this man, a bit shorter than her but very well built from his stay in prison, terrified her. She immediately dropped the papers and began backing away from the deranged looking (delete)Once again, don't just tell us. Show us why he looked deranged. Why did he terrify her? Frederick.

Closing the gap between them in three steps, Frederick reached out with both hands and grabbed the muffler, pulling each end in separate directions, making it taut across the blonde’s smooth neck. Immediately her hands went to her throat, desperately trying to pry her fashion accessory (this feels a bit awkward, go with something simpler, "scarf" or "the expensive fabric")from her windpipe. As the tunnel in her vision began to collapse, she caught one last glimpse of Frederick’s eyes and knew she was going to die. (to increase emotional impact, change "and for a semicolon. End the sentence with "she knew she was going to die."

Tiffany’s nose itched. She didn’t want to wake up, though (delete) so she ignored it. The itch persisted. She attempted to raise her hand to rub away the irritation ,but failed. At the same time (delete. Reader will assume that the story takes place in chronological order, time tags are seldom necessary)a violent sneeze shook her lithe body, causing pain to radiate from all over but very little actual movement. Instantly tears filled her eyes as she opened them and saw Frederick standing in front of her grinning wickedly. Under her nose he held a handful of pepper that he had gotten from the huge plastic pepper mill that sat in her kitchen. Again she sneezed, painfully wracking her body which was thoroughly bound, spread eagle, to her kitchen table. She tried to move her face away from the pepper but discovered that her neck was bound tightly to the table with phone cord. Her stomach was also secured to the table using a ratchet strap that Frederick had found in the garage. The strap was on so tight that Tiffany was barely able to breathe and her ribs ached.

Her beautiful cashmere muffler was wound around her mouth, tied off, and stuffed inside, propping her jaws apart but silencing her screams. Her dress had been ripped all the way open except for two buttons at her stomach where the ratchet strap’s buckle forced them into her tight stomach. High tension fishing line that her husband once used for shark fishing sawed the flesh at her knees. Frederick had simply tied the fishing line around one thigh, under the table, and pulling as hard as he could wound it around the other thigh, keeping the hapless woman completely spread. Tiffany could not feel her boot-encased feet because the fishing line had already cut circulation; in fact, little rivulets of blood were trickling down onto the dining room floor from where the fishing line was cutting her skin open.

Her wrists were tightly zip-tied together above her head using plastic ties from the kitchen and held there by her belt which was buckled to one of the legs of the table.

Again she sneezed, and again her body attempted to lurch but was held fast by her bindings. The fishing line continued to slice into her thighs prompting tears of agony from Tiffany’s pretty green eyes.

Frederick walked away from her and stalked into the living room. Tiffany couldn’t even struggle; she was in too much pain just laying there. The psychopath returned with a stack of books, topped with Tiffany’s prized signed, first edition copy of Alice in Wonderland. He set these on the table between the woman’s long, lewdly spread legs. A coat hanger was brought in from the laundry room. Frederick shoved the hooked end of the coat hanger into Tiffany’s vagina and pulled it straight up, ripping her insides and causing her to wail into her cashmere muffler. While holding her up in that manner, the insane man shoved the stack of books under the woman’s rear, propping her womanly slit and further straining her torturous bindings.

The convict gleefully began removing his pants, licking his lips in anticipation of the great sex he had waited so long for. He mounted her roughly, immediately shoving his penis into her torn opening, prompting more screams from the poor woman bound to the table. He pounded into her like a jackhammer while smashing her tits with his calloused hands and yanking her pretty blonde tresses backwards.

Tiffany was in pain in more ways then she could comprehend. Unfortunately for her, she was so tightly bound that there was nothing she could do about it. To make it worse, the insane man on top of her was fucking her so violently that the bindings became even more painful; she couldn’t even move with her rapist.

The rape lasted only about ten minutes, but it was enough. Tiffany was bleeding profusely from the wound inside of her and from both of thighs. She lay there sobbing, not wanting to contemplate what this insane man would do next.

Frederick, however, already had plans. His sexual needs satisfied, he had only one thing left to do. Set something on fire. On his way back to the kitchen, he spotted the pepper mill that he had used to wake the tortured woman. He picked it up and brought it back to her. Her teary eyes begged him not to do anything else, but he didn’t care. He opened the mill and poured the pepper directly onto her face, burning her eyes and sinuses, causing her to begin sneezing non-stop. He then shoved the plastic pepper mill, 5” wide bottom end first, roughly into her tortured vagina.

Effectively blinded, Tiffany didn’t see her torturer return yet again with the box of long handled matches that she used to light her fireplace. The pyromaniac pulled every match out of the full box and stuffed them into the tortured woman’s ass leaving the red end facing out. He then scraped the red part of the matchbox against as many of the matches as he could. Within seconds there was a torch protruding from Tiffany’s anus. She struggled anew and screamed, but still could not move.

Frederick gave her one last pat on her smooth inner thigh and walked out the front door to watch from a distance.

The fire burned down the matches quickly, setting fire to the stack of books propping her up and melting the plastic pepper mill to her tortured vagina. Flames charred her vaginal lips as she lay there in abject terror and agony. The books began to crumble and the fire began to spread to the table. Tiffany could smell her own flesh cooking and plastic burning as she struggled as hard as she possibly could to extricate herself from the burning table.

Suddenly her legs were free! The intense heat had melted the fishing wire. She quickly pushed her scorched backside off of the table and desperately kicked the burning books onto the floor, ignoring the intense pain from the boiling plastic in her crotch. It took her multiple attempts as she still didn’t have feeling in her feet. In her struggles to move the books, the weakened ratchet strap also gave way, allowing her to move the middle of her body. The fire had spread to most of the rest of the house by this point, but desperation and hope drove the beautiful blonde to keep trying. Ironically, her saliva soaked muffler that was jammed into her mouth was filtering out much of the smoke, allowing her to continue to fight for her life.

The bottom of the table collapsed, sending her tumbling to the floor among the burning wood. The phone line around her neck was still stubbornly attached to a piece of the flaming table, causing her to momentarily choke before it too gave way in the intense heat.

After a few hard yanks with her hands they too were free, though still bound to each other. Tiffany bolted for the front door, stumbling with eyes still filled with pepper and smoke and melted plastic adhering to her pussy and inner thighs. Though she scorched her bound hand on the door knob, she was able to open the door and get outside to freedom. As she stumbled out the front door, the heel on her melted left boot gave way, and she stumbled to the ground. Although she tried to break her fall with her hands, she could not adjust them bound as they were and landed squarely on the side of her face, shattering her right jaw and knocking her unconscious.

The first EMS workers on the scene of the house fire found a tall, skinny woman with a bit of blonde hair with charred ends. She wore the remains of what looked to be something denim. Her hands were bound and her mouth was gagged. She had multiple third degree burns and her vagina was welded shut with dried plastic. Her anus looked as if someone had shoved a lit firecracker inside.

Tiffany was, however, alive.

To be continued…