The Torture of Heather by DEDHeather94@aol.com Part 1 "Guess who wrote a rape story?" I'd sent the instant message to my online friend, Dave. He shared my interest in those kind of stories and I was somewhat proud of my first attempt at that sort of writing. "You??", he guessed, with obvious surprise and probably amusement as well . Six months later I was lying face-down, locked in the trunk of his car, hogtied and gagged. I was terrified...trying to keep my head...praying he would remember we were friends and not hurt me too badly... I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.... ******* I'd met Dave online in October of the previous year. We both had the same type of job, so we had something in common, but we didn't discover that till later. He'd sent me one picture of himself during the time I knew him, but it wasn't until that hot day in August that I actually met him for real. Unless one counted the day before when I was desperately trying to keep my eyes averted. But once again...that's too far ahead. We fell into an odd sort of friendship. Much of it based on debate and mild insults. He was intelligent, funny sometimes...an interesting and somewhat disturbing person. He had a way of making me feel exposed somehow--like he saw thru me right away. He never requested cyber-sex, didn't appear particularly interested in pictures of me and didn't try to make me his online girlfriend. He knew how to get my back up and managed to push all my buttons when feeling especially arrogant, but it was still a nice change to have a male friend online who didn't seem to be constantly on the make. Looking back, our hottest topic of debate was usually the differences vs. the similarities of our seperate fantasies, fetishes, etc. I had liked to think of myself as fairly normal in regards to what thrilled me sexually. I considered some of his fetishes not only abnormal, but downright frightening. His interest in rape, torture and serial killers was one thing. His love of movies that portrayed women being burned at stakes was what I found most disturbing, and I told him so on many occasions. I wasn't really trying to give him a hard time, I just needed to understand why these things thrilled him so. That would ususally fire him up, so to speak. Dave was open, defiant and totally unapologetic about himself and his interests. Horrified as I was by most of them, I couldn't help but admire that. We had met in a chatroom where visitors there would often play out rape scenes--either in the room for all to see and read, or pair off privately. I couldn't stay out of that stupid room! I never participated publicly in them, but loved reading the antics of those who did. Something was going on with me back then; something I didn't understand and wasn't very comfortable with. I'd cybered with several guys after getting used to the whole idea (convincing myself it was just writing and not cheating on my husband). Sometimes it turned me on. Sometimes it was just boring. Several months before meeting Dave, while peeping into the darker-titled rooms toward the bottom of the list, I was sent an Instant Message (IM in AOLspeak) from a guy who, out of the blue "attacked" me. It was startling, almost frightening, although at my computer I was of course, perfectly safe. Still, I felt almost physically attacked. There was no "hi", "how are you?", "Do you cyber?", "Do you have a pic?" or any of the usual intros. Instead it said something like this: "I have a knife at your throat Bitch! Shut the fuck up and don't move". Stunned at being accosted without any preliminaries, I was nevertheless intrigued and decided to play along. I think I replied with something like, "Don't hurt me...please!" , to let him know I was willing to play. What followed was my first online "rape" and it was a scene of shocking brutality--I could almost feel waves of hatred from this guy. Horrible as this particular scene was, I was more than a little disturbed to find I was nearly overwhelmed by the sexual tingling and throbbing that had taken over my body. I was hotter and wetter than I'd been in a long time. I cringed at his words...the violence and utter horror of the things he was describing....I hated that guy, but couldn't deny that I was stirred up in a big way. I really didn't want to admit that something this twisted inside myself had just been unearthed. This is what I hated about Dave. Whenever I got uppity about his interests, he would hold up a mirror reflecting my own dark side right back to me. He never let me forget he'd found me in a rape room. I really hated that! I wasn't comfortable admitting even to myself yet that I had rape fantasies. Sometimes realizing my body reacted to things that my mind recoiled from--things that were wrong, was too much and I'd lash out at him. I even blocked him for a while after a particularly nasty argument. I wasn't even sure why I was so mad, but I decided I couldn't talk to him for a while. I told myself he was just too demented to be friends with....but I didn't forget him. During the time of Dave's banishment something changed. Slowly, I eased into doing more forced roleplays. I began reading rape stories online....more and more of them, with the fascination of one who can't look away from a train wreck. With time I felt more comfortable with my body's reactions to them and consequently, my own sex life became hotter--because after nearly three years of little to no interest in sex, I became hotter...hot as a firecracker actually....insatiable. By the time I'd written my first rape story, I'd accepted that strange, frightening part of myself. Embraced it even. I'd totally surrendered to my own dark side and it changed me. I began to accept everything about myself--for the first time in my life actually. I stopped lying about my age online, stopped sending the younger, thinner pictures of myself when someone requested one, and decided that, flaws and all, I was an attractive woman with brains and talent. I never would have imagined feeling that way about myself one short year ago. Even people in my real life seemed to notice my new confidence. Strange men would often stare at me when I was out shopping, driving, or even just at work, and I'd wonder what they were thinking--and if force was involved. I wondered somewhat uneasily if I was unconsciously transmitting vibes to others with the same fantasies. It was scary, yet thrilling to think about. Even my husband began to comment about how much sexier I was than before....his lovemaking taking on more of an edge...he started using more force, sensing how wild it made me. My new attitude was definitely changing things. During this time, I began to miss my old friend Dave and the banter between us. I think I realized that my unease with my own dark side was what made me so uneasy about his, and began to feel ashamed about how our friendship had ended. Soon we resumed our friendship, and it was much more relaxed this time, less tense. Knowing of his own fondness for rape stories, I sent him the one I had written and was very happy and proud that he liked it. After all, he was practically a connoisseur of such stories, and his opinion meant a lot to me. If he liked it, it must be pretty decent. His only criticism was that it should have been darker--the heroine should have been tortured some. On that small point, I considered the source. I didn't really want to go that dark, and didn't know anything about torture. Not yet anyway. Sometime around May our friendship began to subtly change. I was working on my next story...putting more time and effort into it. For Dave, I made this one somewhat darker, but still tame compared to many. I knew my own comfort level and had no desire to go too extreme. Dave was eagerly anticipating my next tale of the perils of Heather. It was around this timeframe when he told me he'd saved every IM conversation we'd ever had. I thought it somewhat strange, but harmless. Being in writer's mode, however, I easily imagined how such a thing could cease being harmless and become a trap. Inspired, I used the concept in my new story. The villain saved everything that the clueless Heather sent to him or said to him in their conversations. I considered Heather to be my alter-ego, and when writing a Heather story I used elements of truth in my fiction. She was a little tease, and in my online Heather mode, I was one too. By saving every teasing, provocative thing she said, the villain had rendered her unable to go to the police when he attacked her--at least not without major embarrassment. Like me, she had a husband and child and something of a career. Unwilling to risk losing her family or credibility if her dark side were exposed, she preferred to keep her attack a secret--I knew I'd be the same way. I really had no idea how soon that theory would be tested. When I finally finished the story, I sent it out to the many assorted friends and fans of my last story and was gratified with the praise. However, while nervously waiting for Dave to finish reading it, I realized he was the one I wanted to impress the most. Maybe because I knew he'd be honest. I knew he'd read it with his practiced eye rather than his hormones, unlike my other friends. I was very proud when he declared it awesome and said it was much better than the first one. Before long, Dave began joking with me in ways he hadn't before. I'm quite sure, even now, that he was joking at first. He would kid around and say he didn't live all that far from me and that he should come find me and rape me himself. I totally laughed it off. I mean, this was coming from a guy who'd never expressed any sexual interest in me before, besides very jokingly. I didn't even think he found me particularly attractive. Being perversly female and a shameless tease, I would send him provocative pictures of myself on occasion. Whenever I'd make some for my online "admirers" I would send him some too--I think I wanted to see what his reaction would be. If I'd been hoping for the same drooling, lustful response I was getting from the others I would have been sorely disappointed. He would simply send a polite "Thanks for the pics" and leave it at that. It really didn't matter because we were buds, pals, intellectual equals. We'd never even done the cyber thing, and at that point it would have felt weird anyway. We talked about many things sexual, but never got personal about it, as in wanting each other. I wasn't his type, I figured, and that was ok--I didn't think he was my type either. Being perversely female, however, I suppose I was a little disappointed that he didn't drool. Now here he was....talking about raping me out of the blue. "If only I could be sure I'd get away with it", he'd lament "Oh, I wouldn't have you arrested....you have too much on me, remember?" I'd said this carelessly, jokingly, but I did mean it, and ironically for the same reasons that Heather wouldn't do it. Besides, he was my friend. What was the harm of assuring him that my feelings of friendship as well as my fear of exposure would keep me quiet? I was sure he was full of it, and equally sure he'd never find me anyway. I wasn't scared of him. It was all a big joke. Before long,..almost alarmingly fast, what I'd considered a big joke began to escalate. Nobody dwells on a joke that long. He spoke of finding me more and more; turning nearly every conversation around to his now favorite subject--raping me. "You will be mine", he would say nearly every day now..."oh yes....you will be mine!" I was still laughing about it, responding with things like "yeah right" and "whatever", but in truth, I was becoming somewhat uneasy. This seemed to be turning into an obsession with him--he wouldn't shut up about it! To be honest, part of my unease was how I would find myself thinking about his "plans" at odd moments during my days and even while having sex with my husband. I wondered what it would be like to be taken that way by my best online friend...one whose fantasies still frightened me....and my heartbeat would quicken. While worrying about his sanity I couldn't help worrying about mine as well. I think I should say that I'm not a stupid woman as a rule, but I was letting him get deeper into this fantasy every day. I never said, "Dave, now cut the shit! I mean it!!" Would he have stopped the talk if I had? I don't really know, but the fact is I didn't. Skepticism was the only resistance I was offering and that only seemed to make him more determined. But still....it was all just talk. He couldn't rape me if he couldn't find me, and I wasn't about to just tell him where I lived. He knew the state and the city and that was all he was going to get out of me. Some of our funniest conversations were the ones in which he would try to wheedle, trick, threaten and even beg the information out of me. Every attempt was met with my mocking laughter. I admit I was enjoying this game. I should have known that every time I laughed I was sealing my own fate. Maybe I did know it and the reckless little Heather inside me just didn't care. One busy Friday, I received a call at work from our local paper. The reporter, a man with a pleasant, professional-sounding voice who introduced himself as Wes Dever, said the paper was doing a spotlight on local businesses and wanted to profile our store if that was agreeable, and requested an interview with me, the manager. Knowing the owner wouldn't mind some free publicity I agreed to a short interview. After some basic questions about our customers and the brands we carried he asked for my name (not unusual), then asked if I would verify the store's address. He ended the interview by saying some photographers would be there in the next day or so. Nice guy. Dave couldn't even let the weekend pass before he addressed me by my real name....first and last. I stared at my screen with a sort of dull shock when I saw he had somehow figured it out. He'd sworn he would and there it was. While I was trying to figure out what to say, he then asked if those photographers ever came to the store. I gasped out loud as I realized that he was the reporter and not only had he gotten my name from me, but I'd been kind enough to spell it for him as well! I remembered then--back when I was promoted to manager, when he and I were friends who happened to share the same occupation, I had announced excitedly, "Guess who's the new manager of ______?", revealing the name of my store to him. It sounds really dumb now, but back then he'd never so much as hinted at ever trying to find me-- of even wanting to. It's still strange that I'd told him. I hadn't told anyone online the name of my store before. That had been several months before, and most people would have forgotten the name by then anyway, but remember, he saved everything. If I had doubted that claim before, I couldn't now. I began to feel the first stirrings of fear. The unease was deepening. He'd obviously gone to some length for that "prank"-- finding the website for my town and even looking up the name of our local paper. Recovering some of my feelings of safety, I reminded him that he still didn't have my address, but realized before he even replied that it mattered very little at that point. He of course could watch from a safe distance when I left work, and follow me home easily if he really decided to do this thing. For that matter he could grab me as I left the building. I felt very vulnerable then. I was a sitting duck. Even if I hadn't realized that fact on my own, Dave was more than happy to tell me. He told me many things. My friend was changing almost before my eyes. Each email and IM he sent was becoming more and more sinister. He asked for my phone number and was no doubt surprised when I gave it to him. I really wasn't afraid to do that since it was unlisted and I was sure he couldn't trace me with it. Besides, for all practical purposes he already knew everything he really needed to know to carry out his threat. All he had to do was actually find me now. When he called me, I could feel myself trembling as the voice of the charming reporter smoothly informed me that he was going to find me, take me from my own home with the help of a stun gun, then torture and rape me repeatedly. "It's going to happen", he said, going on to remind me that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was starting to feel real terror now. Hearing his voice, how serious he sounded, was somehow much worse than reading those same words on the computer screen. There was no joking around, no friendliness at all--only these threats. It felt like the game was spinning out of control. Every conversation we had online now was about my impending rape. He told me how turned on he was hearing the fear in my voice. He was playing his part too well and really warming up to the idea of torturing me as well as raping me...sending me horrific pictures of the various fiendish things he wanted to do to me. That, I think, scared me the most. Sexual torture, what little I knew about it, was a vague, shadowy horror to me. I knew it existed, but had never experienced it. Never wanted to. That particular dark side of sexuality had never entered my rape fantasies, nor my stories. I was very scared of my friend by now. I was wondering if I ever knew him at all. The drama that was unfolding began to occupy my thoughts more and more during my real life. Sometimes I would feel nearly paralyzed with fear knowing he could really do this and probably would if he were as determined as he sounded. Sometimes I would ask myself, "What are you doing?? Make him stop it!!" I wasn't even sure if I could stop him, but I can't honestly say I really tried that hard. The whole concept of somebody actually traveling to find me didn't seem real or likely--also he'd figured out that I lived further from him than he originally thought. One time I did say something like "if I asked you not to do this, would you not?" After some hesitation he came back with "it's more complicated than that now". I took that as a no. I told myself it was still a "safe" fear as long as he was there and I was here. But there was something else....and I can't deny it. I was fascinated despite my fear, real as that fear was. I could have stopped going online. I could have blocked him again. I could have told him I changed my mind--that if he really did this I would have him arrested and damn the consequences. There were any number of things I could have said or done. Instead I would read his words as if in a trance, feel the fear....then unable to help myself, would feel the sexual thrill--the unbearable throbbing tingles, the warm wetness that always seemed to accompany that fear. I never really asked him not to do it. However, I would beg him not to do it when I would be missed. Being a wife, mother and store manager means that most times somebody always knows where I'm at or where I'm supposed to be. If this thing were to really happen, I knew I couldn't bear the drama of having to explain why I was missing (for however length of time he was planning this). He seemed to think those fears were amusing when I brought them up, and mostly responded with things like "that's your problem". I had one real chance to put a stop to it all and keep our friendship intact. One night, between sending me gruesome pictures of tortured rape victims, Dave nearly frightened me into fits by supporting the "logic" of murdering one's victim. "Even one," he continued cruelly, "who promised not to tell"--like me. In the beginning of this madness, while it was all still a joke and before I was genuinely scared of him, he'd joked about having to kill me if he raped me, and even then it had bothered me--his twisted sense of humor, but now it was way too real. It was too much. I got offline in a hurry, unable to read any more, after informing him I was going to get a gun. Shaking, I wondered if I was really going to have to. He could still find me easily, and he was obviously more dangerous than I'd ever thought. The erotic fear I'd experienced over his rape threats were one thing, but this was something entirely different. If my life was in danger it was time to retreat in a big way. The next day, when I saw I had mail from him, I had to read it; had to see if he was still threatening me. If so, I'd have to take steps to protect myself. This had just gone way too far. The letter he wrote to me added a touching and bizarre new facet to what has to be the strangest friendship I've ever known or even heard of: Hey... I was just talking hypothetically. I'm sorry I upset you. I really feel bad about the way our conversation ended tonight. You should know that I'm 90% bullshit. I have no life, I don't do anything, and messing with your mind is merely a source of amusement in my empty, meaningless life. I was torturing you with words about this rape/torture thing. Just remember to consider the source when talking to me, okay? You are a kewl person, and I do feel bad about hurting you. I may not be perfect, but I am a Christian (just not a very good one!) and much more of a lover than a fighter. Or should I say more a lover than a rapist? Anyway, I care about you and wouldn't want to see you hurt. Honestly. Maybe I am misogynistic (Hell, I know I at least have a streak of it) but I am basically a good person. Let me repeat this again. I WILL NEVER KILL YOU!! It's a promise; it's a fact. You have nothing to worry about in that regard. In fact, if it makes you feel better, I would not even rape you either, if you truly didn't want it and asked me not to. I took the joke too far, and I am sorry. I just got carried away in thinking and typing at the same time. I wish there were the some way to go back and unsay the words I said before, but you can't unring a bell. You are my friend, and I feel awful that I hurt you. I can't say I'm sorry enough about what I did. It was fun for me, and I was enjoying your fear. Pretty sick, huh? I don't deserve to be forgiven, but if being sorry counts for anything, it's all I can offer. I really do care about you, probably more than you know, and I value our friendship. We share a bond, and I hope in time we'll be able to mend it. So I hope everything works out all right. Oh, by the way...you don't deserve to be raped, contrary to what you said last night. Writing about it and dreaming about it does not justify having it done to you. I was just on too much of a roll last night to correct you. Take care... Dave So there it was; my chance to respond with "No Dave, this is just too fucked up. I don't want you to rape me. I don't want you to even talk about it anymore." Instead I dropped the matter entirely--so touched was I by the letter. I figured the whole crazy episode was over anyway. For a while he let it drop too. Oddly, our friendship seemed to deepen after that. We went back to being just good friends --no more stalker vs. prey. At least for a while. I began to feel closer to him after that letter. He'd opened himself up to me more than he ever had. Strange to say, perhaps, but I was genuinely moved. I found myself ignoring or putting off my other online friends whenever he was on. We would chat for hours. I'm not sure how or why, but it wasn't long before the whole thing started again. He began jokingly at first, like before, then gradually became serious again. The whole thing was confusing me terribly. Was he kidding or dead serious?? Was he sane or a total psycho? I just couldn't tell anymore. For the next several weeks my life was a torment. Every day brought a new threat. I was at the point of just wishing he'd get it over with. I even went so far as to tell him when I was going to the movies next--like Heather in the Gamer story. I was calling him out-- calling his bluff--throwing myself to him so it could either be over or he'd be forced to admit he was just fucking with me. Either way, I had to get on with my life and stop looking over my shoulder all the time. He didn't get me the night I went to the movie. I managed to get into the theater and back home unmolested. The fear while sitting in my car, smoking and waiting to go in, however, was intense. I did have a bad moment when a truck circled me (I had no idea what he drove) and a lone male passenger looked at me closely before driving on. Before I nearly choked on my heart, which had just leaped into my throat, I was greatly relieved to realize the guy wasn't him--this guy was most likely meeting someone there and searching for them. No, Dave didn't get me that night--nor did my fictional Vile Gamer suddenly come to life like a villain in a Stephen King book and show up with his pearl-handled switchblade and the hardon from Hell. I did, however manage to get quite a fear-fix that night. I went home somewhat exhilarated from the thrill of my imagination and reflected absently that I was just too twisted to live. Finally the day came that, frustrated by his torments I made him angry. Very angry according to the next letter he sent. I had finally snapped under the pressure when he hinted that he might drag this on for years. I couldn't imagine feeling this constant suspense for years. I just couldn't take any more and went off. I understand that you're playing a game and you want me as off- balance as I can be, but you're really starting to overplay this maybe/maybe not bullshit. I don't even feel scared anymore after reading your last letter. I'm not helping you anymore either. After everything I said in my last several letters to you, all I get in reply is more of the same fucking bullshit. You say I live for the fear. Maybe you're right, but I don't feel afraid when all I hear is fucking bullshit. As I read his response, I coverd my open mouth in horror with shaking hands: If you're not scared anymore, then fine, I don't give a shit. I said what I was planning on doing and I do intend to follow though with it. If I have to hurt you, I will. And if you fucking think of reporting me, I am going to be seriously pissed. I have enough evidence against you that you will never win a rape conviction. You want to get raped, then just call me a bullshitter and you will get your wish. Your ass will be seriously mine, and this is not bullshit! Hope that's the answer you wanted, Bitch! Dave Was he serious? Was he nuts? I wrote back trying to explain myself, but the threatening, hostile emails kept coming.... Oh, shut the fuck up, Bitch! I'll do whatever the hell I want to do with you. I already promised I wouldn't kill you, and I meant it. But I do intend on having some fun with you, and whether you'll enjoy that or not...well, you probably won't. It's too bad. You're going to experience what being a true victim is about, and I can't guarantee what I will or won't do. And I won't discuss it, either, for you to talk me out of it. It may be nothing; I may go all out. I don't really know right now. The fact that you're my friend may count in your favor. But I'm not planning of thinking of you as a friend when you're hogtied in my car trunk. You'll simply be cargo. So you think I'm scary, huh? You have nothing to be scared of. It's all talk. I haven't laid a single finger on you yet. But maybe you should re-read that letter again where you trashed me and said this was fucking bullshit. I'm just out to prove to you, in a big way, that it is not. It will be real, and you will feel how real it will be when I get you. You challenged me, and practically laid out the red carpet for me. Any doubts I had about going through with it were eliminated when you said that. So you sealed your own fate, and you will have to deal with the consequences. So just remember...You asked for it, Bitch! You want it, you will get it. I will have you, sometime when you are not expecting it. There is nothing you will be able to do about it. Your mouth will be mine, your pussy will be mine, your whole body will be mine. I will attack you, gag you, tie you up and visciously rape you, Bitch. Wait for it, because it will come, and so will you. Dave I had to respond to his hostility somehow: I can feel you trying to dehumanize me again. That scares me worse than anything. If you're digging up things I've said to you in the past hoping to get pissed off all over again then I know you must be very close. My life is a torment right now. "Tell me why Do you like playing around with.. My Narrow scope of reality I Can feel it all start slipping I think I'm breaking down..." --Disturbed His reply: Fuck you Bitch. I have no sympathy for you. And another disguised as a friendly greeting.... |||||| (o o) oOOo-(_)-oOOo ___|___|___|___|___| ___|___|___|___|___| Just popping over to say... Hello! After scrolling down a long way, this was at the bottom... And to tell you that I am still planning on getting you, so watch out, you fucking bitch! You will be tied up, gagged, raped and I might even hurt you, just for fun...my fun, not yours. This dehumanizing thing is correct; for one day, you will no longer be my friend, just my personal fucktoy, and I intend to use you and abuse you to the fullest. It will happen sooner than you think, so keep an eye out for me. I will be there and I will be ready, and there is nothing you will be able to do about it. You want what I am going to give you; you can't really think of anything else, can you? You had your chance to stop me; all you had to do was ask and being your friend, I would have complied. It's past that point now; there is no turning back. It pains me that I'm going to be doing this to one of my best online friends, a person I like and admire, but I feel forced into going through with it. I can't NOT do it; this is my chance in a lifetime and if you're going to offer it up to me, I'd be a damn fool not to take advantage of it. So sorry if you're scared, because this WILL happen, and it may not be pleasant, but it's what you and I both want so you might as well lay back and enjoy it, you little cunt. I could feel things getting out of hand. It really didn't feel like a joke anymore. My friend was determined to do this thing. It was all he talked about anymore. I went through my days with an odd sense of fate catching up to me....the walls were closing in. Then the week arrived that my daughter was out of town visiting my sister. He knew about it, and somehow I knew that if he was going to make his move, it would be that week. That Monday night we were both online and somehow I'd managed to make him mad again....
part 2....the stalking DEDHeather94: seriously....I feel the walls closing in PyroMania44: You have very little time left DEDHeather94: I can feel that PyroMania44: You're this close to being a rape victim IRL DEDHeather94: how close? thisclose? PyroMania44: ThisClose DEDHeather94: oh shit...capitals and everything PyroMania44: I hope you're preparing DEDHeather94: jesus...how? PyroMania44 Praying may help. Because you don't know how far I intend to take this DEDHeather94: god wouldn't listen to me now... PyroMania44: He listens. He may be watching to see how far I go as well. It will be a good show. DEDHeather94: and i know i don't....that's part of my terror, but not all PyroMania44: If I survive the drive, the rest will be gravy. That's what I'm really scared of. Getting lost and not finding you. Once I do, you should be easy. DEDHeather94: i bought another dress today. like the other one but sort of an olive green. not so slutty a color i guess PyroMania44: Which one do I get to rip off? DEDHeather94: well gee...i wish you wouldn't rip either one PyroMania44: Yes, cutting is better PyroMania44: I don't really care. If it's in the way, away it goes DEDHeather94: brb....gotta pee DEDHeather94: back PyroMania44: Feel better now? DEDHeather94: much...thanks :) PyroMania44: I have been thinking about how to let you pee when you're in my care. DEDHeather94: holy shit!! how long do you intend to hold me? PyroMania44: I'm not saying, but it may be much longer than you are expecting DEDHeather94: ok well...you know my situation. you know i can't prevent anyone else from calling the cops in a panic if i'm missing for too long. I'll just have to trust you i guess PyroMania44: Things can be arranged. That's all I'm saying about that. DEDHeather94: man...please just don't make me have to tell people i was abducted.. i won't admit knowing who it was, but i couldn't bear it. don't make me have to tell anybody something like that happened to me PyroMania44: You don't have to say anything about an abduction. DEDHeather94: i don't know what to say now PyroMania44: You'll just have to wait and see what happens. You don't know, and you won't until it happens to you. DEDHeather94: i know that PyroMania44: I like to keep you in suspense DEDHeather94: well you've had me that way for quite some time now. I hope you're happy PyroMania44: I'll be happy when I finally have you in my clutches, at my mercy. Then I'll be ecstatic. DEDHeather94: I don't know how cruel you are at physical torture but I hope it's not as bad as your mental torture of me PyroMania44: In a way, the mental torture is more effective. I can torture you without even being there. DEDHeather94: that's what i'm sayin DEDHeather94: and it's gone on a long time PyroMania44: I hope it will continue. Because even if I strike once, it may not be the end. It probably won't. DEDHeather94: yes...you've mentioned that PyroMania44: You could be my victim forever PyroMania44: I could even move out there to make it more convenient DEDHeather94: ohlord....is this your twisted way of asking me to go steady? (lol...very nervous laugh...just kidding dude) PyroMania44: My steady sex slave, yes DEDHeather94: omigod PyroMania44: It could happen PyroMania44: What time do you get out at night? DEDHeather94: we close at 7 DEDHeather94: my time PyroMania44: I know DEDHeather94: then why'd you ask? PyroMania44: How long does it take to close the store? DEDHeather94: well, it depends on what i have to do. On Wednesday nights for instance, I have to stay to fax the reports to the main office since I'm off Thursday and can't do it Thurs. morning DEDHeather94: sometimes 10 after...sometimes more PyroMania44: I was expecting that DEDHeather94: also depends on if we have any last minute stragglers DEDHeather94: not too many of those lately thank god DEDHeather94: some nights i leave right at 7 or just a little bit after PyroMania44: I will look for you DEDHeather94: when? DEDHeather94: sorry...couldn't resist PyroMania44: Not saying, you stupid bitch DEDHeather94: dang.....the hostility... PyroMania44: I need to build it up. I may re-read that "You don't just suck, you swallow" e-mail you sent. DEDHeather94: dude I didn't say that! PyroMania44: Or was it an IM? Oh yes, you did! DEDHeather94: well i was probably clownin with ya PyroMania44: You were pissed at me DEDHeather94: well then you probably deserved it PyroMania44: Yes, keep talking like that. My stun gun is fully charged. DEDHeather94: uhhh.... "shut UP Heather!!!"....sorry man...really PyroMania44: I'm not sorry. I just decided you will get it now DEDHeather94: NO!!! PyroMania44: I was toying with not using it PyroMania44: Now I will DEDHeather94: dave no, please!!!! PyroMania44: I'll be seeing you, bitch I'd really done it now.....With that, he was offline for the night and would no longer hear my pleas. The stun-gun scared me badly. Would he really use such a thing on me? He wasn't online at all the next day....I knew because he hadn't read what I'd sent him... jesuschrist....oh man, you're all hostile again. ohplease i'm not bullshitting here.. please don't hurt me... I can feel you getting closer and yes i'm fucking scared That letter remained unread all day Tuesday. I found that very ominous and, too late, I began to wish fervently that I'd stopped this madness a long time ago. We'd been online friends for nearly a year, but what did I really know about him?? Wednesday morning I dressed carefully. I did my hair and makeup with a careful eye as well. I knew he was coming that day-- not to grab me most likely, but to stalk.....to watch me as I left work and follow me home so he would finally have the address I'd refused to just give away. Heather was whispering to me that if he's going to be watching me, I should at least give him something good to watch. When I went home for lunch, eyes darting to my rearview more times than usual to see if I was being followed, I began shaking when I saw he still hadn't opened his mail, and wrote him this... Omigod....you're here aren't you? You haven't opened what I sent you last night....I'm scared. ohgod i'm so fucking scared. If you are here, then I know you won't see this till after it's done. oh what the fuck have i gotten myself into. Ok, well, I know you promised not to kill me but you surely understand that since now the moment seems to be at hand I'm terrified that you could be a psycho killer after all. I mean what the fuck do I really know about you?? I'm so stupid. But know this.....If I'm a corpse and you're reading this with my blood on your hands then I swear to god if there's any way possible for such things I will haunt you forever and ever. Ok...so I knew he probably wouldn't shake in his boots were he to read it, but if he murdered me after all I was hoping it would at least creep him out. I felt somewhat silly for sending it, but I really was scared. My day off is Thursday. He knew that of course. My husband would be at work, my daughter miles away. I would be alone. During one of our conversations he gave me a choice--he wouldn't come to my home and grab me (I'd already told him I'd be too scared to answer the door anyway, and he probably thought breaking the door down would be too risky) if I did one thing. He said he was going to call me early on the day of reckoning--and I'd damn well better be ready--and instruct me where to meet him. If I didn't show up, he swore he would come to my home and grab me forcefully and that I didn't want that. He said I could get hurt, maybe quite badly if I made him come after me. At this point, he didn't know where I lived still, but if he showed up at my store I knew that would quickly change. For the most part, I was fairly calm that Wednesday. At least during the early hours. Even if he were here already, I didn't expect that he'd be hanging around all day. He knew what time my store closed. Still, I couldn't help scanning the nearby WalMart parking lot whenever I had a cigarette. The back door of my store looks directly on it, and it would be an excellent place to sit while stalking someone inside. I was getting more and more scared with each passing hour. I couldn't focus on anything that day but the man whose presence I could feel getting closer and closer. When one of the women I work with wished me a wonderful day off as she was leaving I nearly cried. It was about twenty minutes before closing when I laid eyes on Dave for the first time. I lit my cigarette, opened the back door and nearly fainted. I didn't see him sitting in a car as I had expected. Instead, I saw a man on foot, coming from around the building. His hair was dark...he wore shorts, a t-shirt and sneakers. His head was down as if in deep thought, so I couldn't see his eyes, but I saw enough of his face that recognition and shock made me want to scream, but I was frozen to the spot. With horror, I saw that he was walking straight toward me!! His head was still down, so I was sure he hadn't seen me yet, but the merest shift of his eyes would reveal me to him--only a scant few yards away. What was he doing, I wondered with real fright. (later he told me he was looking into my car to see what I kept in there--probably checking for weapons). As he got closer my paralysis broke. I stepped backwards into the store with a small gasp, pulling the door closed quickly but quietly, then twisted the lock. I stood there a few moments--my heart pounding loudly. I don't know how long. I was shaking, disoriented. I began to question what I'd just seen. Was that really him? The man outside looked somewhat different than the one picture of him I had. I expected that of course, but the face. The face was his. I was sure of it. I wondered if perhaps I was seeing things; if all the stress of the past few weeks were catching up to me. Before my cigarette was even halfway smoked, I had to look again. Fearful that he could possibly be on the other side ready to grab me (although grabbing me from my store seemed unlikely and way more risky than I imagined he would want--still fear like that has no logic), I eased the door open slowly--ready to slam it again quickly were he still there. Seeing no one standing there, or nearby, I opened it a little further and scanned the parking lot. I saw him immediately. He was sitting in a small new-looking car--the make and model of which I had no clue, nor did I care. He was right there in WalMart's parking lot...waiting for my store to close. Waiting to follow me home. I couldn't tell that much about his features from that distance of maybe ten yards or so...but I knew it was him. I could also tell he was looking right at me. I thought I could even see him smiling. Thus began one of the most fearful, torturous nights I've ever known. I could barely concentrate on the routine closing procedures. Totally unnerved, I sent the girl working with me that night home early--right after I saw him in fact. I was fairly sure he had no interest in harming anyone else, but why take chances? Her boyfriend and his friend happened to be there at the time and I felt much better knowing she'd be leaving with two guys. If Dave was really dangerous, this had to be between him and me. When I finished and locked up for the night, I could feel him watching me as I walked to my car. I was trapped and I knew it. I didn't even know how to lose anybody in a car, and truthfully I was afraid to even try--knowing his wrath would be much worse if I tried something like that and failed. I couldn't just not go home. I sat in my car a while--nervously looking over at his every once in a while. I couldn't see his face anymore from where I was, but he was still there all right...just waiting for me to start moving. Before I obliged him, I lit a roach and sat smoking, trying to settle my nerves. For once, the weed failed me. I began to feel the familiar high, but it did nothing to soothe me. I'm sure nothing would have helped. When I could put it off no longer, I pulled out of my parking place. He was also pulling out of his. I didn't plan to go straight home, however. I needed to stop at the grocery store. Sometimes I would get my groceries at that Wal-Mart, since it was so convenient. That night, I wasn't about to walk across that parking lot--for NO money! I began heading toward the direction of another grocery I went to often. Sure enough, he got directly behind me and stayed behind me all the way there. He wasn't even trying to be subtle. It was so obvious--he wanted me to see him...to know he was keeping up with me, and would continue to do so if I had a hundred stops to make...even if it took all night. I knew him pretty well by now you see--I at least knew what thrilled him, and I knew he was enjoying my fear. He wanted me to know there was no escape. At the grocery, he parked several rows away from me. I finally saw the Ohio plates on his car, and if I'd had any doubts before, I didn't then. It was him all right. I felt his eyes on me like a physical touch as I walked the distance across the parking lot into the grocery store. Being perversely female even at the height of my terror, I couldn't help wondering , after all this buildup and stalking on his part, if he liked what he saw. He had many pictures of me, but people always look different in real life, and I'd considered my pictures to be prettier than the real me. Was I what he expected? What he wanted? I was somewhat annoyed with myself for thinking that way. Like I was thinking of myself as merchandise or something. What did I care what he thought? After all, if he didn't like how I looked, he could damn well go back to Ohio and leave me alone, I thought with panicky defiance. Trying to shop for the family's food like everything was fine was beyond strange. At least twice I felt like I was going to faint. I clung to the handle of my shopping cart when I felt my legs go weak and the edges of my vision darkening. Gritting my teeth I began taking deep breaths...telling myself to calm down or I'd never make it. The reality was truly hitting me now--and hard. I had been half-expecting him, true, simply because he'd sounded so determined--and angry. Of course I knew what his intentions were for me. He'd spelled it out often enough. But up until there was no doubt that he was here, I don't think I really got it. Until he was was actually here, his threats were still only words, no matter how much I thought I believed he was coming, no matter how nervous or even turned-on the thought of his coming here made me, it could never be truly real till he was here. Now I was face-to-face with my online life--with my darkest fantasies. It had become real. He was real. No longer words on a screen and one picture anymore; he was a real flesh-and-blood man who'd come a long way to claim me as his victim. Now that he was here, I knew he wouldn't leave until he had me--hurt me--heard my screams of pain. Maybe even spill my blood for all I knew. It was frightening enough realizing I was going to be raped. This man, who I called a friend online, was really a stranger to me. We'd only just laid eyes on each other that day and from a distance too. now this stranger was going to force himself on me, into me...was going to use my body roughly..."visciously" he'd said. Yes, that was scary enough knowing the secret, most intimate part of me would be plundered and invaded and used for the amusement of someone I barely knew. However, I already knew that raping me wasn't going to be enough for him. The very word "torture" conjured up images of unimaginable cruelty and unbearable pain. To say I was terrified would be putting it mildly. Faced with the surety this was all going to happen, I didn't even feel the arousal that always follows the fear in fantasy. I was too scared . This was just too real. Apparently he wasn't disappointed with what he saw or else he wanted a closer look, or most likely just wanted to terrorize me as much as possible, because when I pushed my cart full of bagged groceries toward my car, I nearly died when I saw him parked right beside my car. He was smiling at me. I had that fainting sensation again. My heart was slamming against my chest--like it was screaming at me to RUN! RUN!!! I didn't get a large amount of groceries that night...I was barely able to concentrate on what I did get. I'd only intended to put them in the back seat, but his car was so close! Close enough where he could easily zap me and pull me inside. I told myself to calm down as I opened the trunk and began throwing the groceries in there instead. I was fairly sure he wasn't planning to grab me ....oh but he was so damn close. What if he changed his mind and decided not to wait? I didn't dare meet his eyes for fear he would pounce. I felt his eyes on me worse than ever. Reality had totally shifted for me. My secret life that existed only online--the game I'd allowed myself to play--was now out of the computer and in my real life. The shock of that hit me harder than I could have predicted. I hurriedly slipped past his door, so damn close to mine, and into my car like when I was a kid....running, sometimes leaping, past my bed in the dead of night when I'd wake up and have to go to the bathroom...sure that something was under there waiting to grab me and pull me under. I now moved like something hunted--and that's what I was. I was prey. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring at me--still smiling. Still keeping my eyes averted, I locked my doors and put up my window. I felt oddly resigned as he followed me closely the rest of the way home. He even had the brass to sit across the street in front of my house, watching me get my things from the car. Somewhat safe now that I was home and knowing my husband would be out soon to help me bring in the food, I stood and watched as his car slowly glided down my street, pulling into a driveway. I didn't wait for him to cruise past again; I went into the house. My husband went out to get the groceries. I couldn't help but wonder if he was being watched as well.
part 3....a night of terror I'd managed to get home without being abducted, but that only confirmed what I already knew. Tomorrow was coming, and tomorrow was to be my day of reckoning. There was truly no escape now. Dave had come a long way, and he'd found me fair and square. I knew that he wouldn't leave until he'd collected. There really wasn't anything I could do to stop it--at least not without making things worse. I knew that the only thing I could do was try to keep my head, go through with it and hope I'd be ok when it was over. My husband was in a good mood for once that night. He'd just gotten word that he'd be getting the raise he'd wanted. To celebrate, he'd bought a new cd. Actually it was an old cd--Limp Bizkit's first one. He was raving about the last song on it and how I just had to get high and listen to it with him. Of course, I couldn't possibly tell him what was up. He was the last person I wanted to know. I felt nearly sick with guilt as he talked about what a great day it had been, and joked how tomorrow was bound to suck. Oh God, how could I have let things go so far? I wanted to cry. Instead, I beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, pleading the need for a shower. I was feeling nearly insane trying to act like everything was fine and that today was a day like any other. I needed to be alone to at least try to pull myself together. "Well hurry uuuuup!!" I could hear his impatient voice outside the door. All through that long shower, I shivered in the hot spray and couldn't stop thinking of my fate which was now sealed beyond all hope. I was perfectly safe in my home right now, and would be all night. After all, my strong husband was in the other room--pouting impatiently for me to finish so he could share his new musical discovery with me. He was blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. Nothing would happen to me while he was there, so that night, at least, I was safe. Yet I was as neatly trapped as any animal in a cage. Dave already had me captured. We both knew the rest would be easy. The reality kept punching me...this was real. Tomorrow I would be taken, raped and....oh I couldn't even imagine what else. My mind still couldn't get around the concept of torture. What kind of pain would I be forced to endure? I remember clinging to the wash cloth tightly...holding it to my face; whimpering silently while my mind was wailing loudly...."what is he going to do to me???" And just where was Heather?? She was that part of me who craved this fear, who was aroused by it...who fucking lived for it. Where was Heather the fear junkie now? I looked inside myself desperately to find her. She could handle the fear...I wasn't sure I could. Unfortunately it seemed she'd deserted me for the time being. During one of my crazier moments before leaving the shower I whispered fiercely to myself..."Heather, you fucking bitch!! You got me into this, so you'd damn well better be around tomorrow!" I'm really not sure how I managed to get thru that night. There were times I was so scared of the coming day that if I could've stopped time I would have. But time doesn't stop. I was helpless to stop the hours from passing...bringing me closer, ever closer to my fate. The song my husband was dying to play for me that night only added to my growing sense of unreality and doom. It was called "Everything". It was truly a modern masterpiece--mostly instrumental and least 15 minutes long. I can never hear it now without remembering that night--the dread, the fear. The bizarre tune, mostly sedate, very psychedelic, spoke to me of fear...it spoke to me of beauty...and of sadness....but mostly it spoke of fear...causing me to nearly vibrate with it. It's really all I could feel. I tried to relax, to allow the weed and the music to weave themselves together and flow thru me. That's when Heather finally made her presence known. She tried to help--whispering to me that I should let the fear flow thru me as well. "Use it", she said. "Let it turn us on like it always does--don't let it bunch itself into a knot". I tried...for a short time it even worked. I could think of the coming day and begin to feel aroused...slightly. The fear that wouldn't go away became the music I was hearing and began to flow through me. But that didn't work for long. The fear would eventually bunch up again and short-circuit everything. It was hopeless--this wasn't fantasy anymore. That fear-and-sex bullshit just wouldn't fly now, I was sure. When I was finally alone, late that night, I sat down and wrote to Dave, even though he wouldn't see it till it was all over. I simply had no one else to speak of these fears to. After all, who else besides my old friend could appreciate this?? Subj: this can't be happening... Date: 8/17/00 To: Pyromania44 ...but it is. Yes I fucking saw you. You made damn sure I saw you and it didn't take me long to understand why. You want me as terrified and terrorized as I can be. Ok it worked. Knowing you're here and just waiting a matter of hours now ...ohgod I feel like a caged animal waiting for slaughter. There's no escape and I know that. I can't even tell anybody because I helped bring this on myself. You know exactly where I live now and I couldn't do anything about it. You've lived part 1 of your dream. In a short amount of time you're going to rape me brutally and no doubt torture me as well. I won't be able to do anything about that either. I didn't even think my detour to Kroger would bother you...just gave you longer to savor the moments of watching your prey. Your fucking smile was certainly wide enough to make me think you were having a good time....enjoying the fear I couldn't hide at seeing you so close to my car. I was terrified you were going to snatch me then and there. I can't believe you were so bold. I saw you before I ever left the parking lot. Damn, you weren't even trying to hide yourself--you wanted me to see you from the start. I knew it was you even behind your shades. I saw you following me all the way from work. And when I saw your car right next to mine...well, I was quietly having a meltdown. I had already nearly fainted in Kroger because I knew you were here. I'm talking about really fainting. That's not just a figure of speech. I came out and there you sat right next to my fucking car grinning like a lunatic. I'm sure you'll forgive me for trying to pretend I didn't see you. At that moment you were SO not my friend Dave. You were the Dark One, Vile Gamer, hell maybe even Jack the Ripper for all I fucking know. I was way too scared to let you know I saw you and knew who you were. I feared you would pounce at the first eye contact I allowed. I can't remember when I've been so fucking scared. Those letters you sent me scared me. It scared me when you spoke of your plans so often and it scared the hell out of me when you were hostile. But none of that was anything compared to how scared I am now. You are going to LOVE reading these notes when you get back I'm sure. Think of them as a bonus I guess. You're a stalker now. Very shortly you're going to be a rapist-- mine. OHGOD I DON'T WANT TO GO THRU WITH THIS!!!!! And it's too fucking late now. I knew this would happen to me. I knew if you actually really did make it here that I would be so fucking scared I'd want to run away. I am totally that fucking scared. And I know I can't run. I could maybe elude you this time...stay away from home till you were forced to give up and go back, because of your job or whatever. But I'm way too afraid of what you'd eventually do if I tried to run. You could always come back and now you know where I live. I'm so fucked. Oh I can't believe things have gotten this far...that I've allowed them to get this far. All I can do is hope you don't hurt me too much. This may be the last letter from me for a while. I don't know. I don't know what kind of shape I'll be in mentally or physically when this is over. I don't even really know if I'm going to live thru this. I know you promised. And I believed you. But holy shit...now that you're really here and it's only a matter of hours before the real taking of heather--well you can't blame me for the thoughts that scream at me in moments of panic "so WHAT if he promised??? would he really admit it??" But as I feel my fate closing in on me now till it's hard to breathe, I realize it doesn't matter....whatever's going to happen is totally out of my hands now. Dammit that was so sadistic of you to make sure I saw you. To drag out my mental torture and put it on a whole new level. I have to go now, but I doubt there'll be much sleep for me this night. Yours Later I guess Heather ******** "Did you enjoy seeing me yesterday?", the voice on the phone enquired pleasantly. I knew the voice. I'd been expecting it. He called promptly at 9 a.m. I was alone. My appearance, at least, was ready. I wore an olive green dress, black thigh high stockings, black heels. My eyes looked too big, and scared, but perfectly made up. My lips were trembling, but fetching with the dark lipstick I wore. My long dark hair was hanging in rippling waves past my shoulders. The final touches were a black satiny choker with a spatter of rhinestones, and a silver ankle bracelet. Yes Mr. Rapist, your package is ready. "You know...you're sexy when you're scared", he taunted. Some crazed part of me, Heather maybe, wanted to shriek hysterical laughter and shout "Well then I must be a sexy motherfucker NOW!!!" , but of course I wasn't even close to laughing. The only sound I was able to manage was the sound of my breath--growing ragged from trying to breathe thru the panic. "Ok Heather...here's what I want you to do..." He was all- business now as he delivered my instructions. "Brush your teeth, because I don't want to smell smoke" (he hated that I smoked..still does), "do you look pretty for me?" "Yeah..." I said uncertainly. I'd done all I could anyway. It would have to do. "Good". He then proceeded to tell me where to meet him. Not only was I terrified of what was to happen to me, I was also uncomfortably aware that the spot he picked was nearby my husband's job site. Looking back, it really wasn't all that near it, but paranoia had been my constant companion for several weeks now and it wasn't about to leave on this day especially. Timidly I asked if we could meet somewhere else, the mall perhaps...? "FUCK YOU!!!", he nearly screamed, causing me to jump, then wince at how stupid I just was. He was obviously wired and probably jumpy. It wouldn't do to get him angry. "You don't dictate the terms here, Bitch!!" "Ok...", I half-whispered apologetically. "You go where I say you go! Have you got that??" "Yes, ok....sorry", I could hear the fear in my own voice...growing more pronounced as I heard the anger in his. Great, I though absently. Less than two minutes and I've already pissed him off. "You have fifteen minutes. I wait fifteen minutes and if you're not here I'm coming there. I know where you live Bitch!" "Yes, I know...I.." "I swear if you stand me up....", he left the threat open long enough for me to answer, "I won't, ok?" Ohgodohgod...oh shit....my mind was racing, panicky. "You don't want me to come get you!" "No, I ....yes, I'll be there", my voice was shaking so badly I could barely get the words out, yet I had to say something else, whether it would do any good or not. "Don't hurt me Dave....ok? Please? Please don't hurt me..." Most of my plea came out in a whisper. "That will depend on you", he said, sounding less angry, almost kind. "Ok", I exhaled with something like relief. I knew for sure then that I would cooperate. Whatever he told me to do, I'd do it and try not to anger him again. I just wanted to get through this as unhurt as possible. "Fifteen minutes" he said with finality, then hung up. I knew I'd have plenty of time, so I checked the mirror one more time, brushed my teeth as he ordered, re-applied my lipstick, then left to deliver myself to my old friend who, out of the blue, had decided to become my rapist. In part 4....the abduction & the ride from Hell Stay Tuned!!!
In part 4....the abduction & the ride from Hell I was scared, of course, yet oddly composed on my way to the appointed meeting spot. In fact, I'd been that way all morning, my composure only slipping during the phone conversation. From the moment my eyes had opened I'd gone thru the motions of my preparations, almost finding comfort in the familiar routines. My terror of the night before had abated to a grim, more resigned species of fear. I had accepted my fate, and so far my panic had been kept at bay. I wasn't turned on like I would be about this time if the game were a safe online roleplay. I really didn't think I would be turned on either. It was just too real, like I said. I found him already there--an empty lot behind a store--and my panic, although beginning to stir was somewhat subdued by my curiosity. This would be the first real look I'd gotten at Dave so far that wasn't from a distance. I parked next to him as I'd been instructed, killed the engine and just sat there. As if to compensate for so studiously avoiding looking at him the night before, I was quite openly staring at him now. If I were just meeting him under different circumstances, I would see a nice-looking man with startlingly beautiful eyes who happened to look troubled. He wasn't smiling. In a flash, he was out of his car and at my window. "Get out", he commanded tersely while his eyes darted about. I did so, still staring. I couldn't help noting to myself how his vibe was the same as it was online somehow. I can't explain it any better. It was an odd feeling. I knew him, yet we'd never really met before this moment. While he was looking elsewhere...assuring himself that no one was nearby to observe, he lifted the t-shirt he was wearing slightly and I glimpsed handcuffs and a knife handle protruding from wherever he'd attached it to his cutoff shorts. Before I could even register what I'd just seen, I was suddenly spun around by his grip on my arm and within seconds my wrists were cuffed behind my back, then a ball gag was shoved into my mouth. "Open your goddamn mouth!" he was growling, causing me to start whimpering as I felt the hard rubber ball forcing its way between my lips and past my teeth. He shoved me into his back seat to buckle the gag in place tightly, then ordered me to lie down across the seats. "Now shut the fuck up", he was muttering, like I could really say anything. I was laying on my side, facing the front of the car, my knees bent to accomodate the small space. My dress had rode up over my knees somewhat. After throwing a comforter over my prone body, covering me head to toe, he got back in the driver's seat and I began to tremble violently as I heard the car start, then felt it speed up as he drove away with me. In "Heather Meets the Vile Gamer", I'd described her abduction as "surreal". I didn't even know what the word meant. I knew the definition, but not how it really felt to live it. Or maybe it's just that my own abduction was beyond surreal. My head was spinning with the suddenness of it all. I'd been neatly captured and rendered helpless within seconds. The Vile Gamer himself couldn't have done things more swiftly. While tightening the gag, he'd said in threatening tones to not make a fucking sound, and so far I'd obeyed. For what felt like a long time, the only sound in the car was my frightened rapid breathing, and of course, my heartbeat. Most likely, only I could hear that, although it sounded very loud to me. I kept my eyes open, although all I could see was the comforter over my face. The morning sun was bright, so at least I wasn't in darkness. Then Dave broke the silence. "You know what's going to happen to you....don't you", it didn't really feel like a question. I made some noise to acknowledge I'd heard him. Could I have answered properly, I suppose I would have said "yes,....but not really". "Well, it's going to get worse" I think I whimpered again. I'm sure I made some scared noise. He pulled the cover down some to see my face. "Can you breathe ok?...thru your nose?", he asked with some concern, it seemed. I nodded yes. "Are you sure?". I nodded again. He looked ahead for a moment, probably to see if the light had changed yet. Apparently it hadn't because he turned his attention back to me briefly. He pulled the cover down further, inspectiong my body, smiling....then looked at my face again with sudden contempt. "I should shove my whole hand in there...you little bitch" I felt my eyes widen in horror. I wailed and shook my head. I think he liked my reaction. He chuckled some, then threw the cover back over my face again. As I lay there staring at the muted cottony brightness, the cuffs holding my wrists tightly behind me, the ball gag keeping my frightened whimpers from getting loud, I tried to keep my head as the car continued to speed me to my fate. I tried to keep my growing panic at bay by repeating to myself, "this is Dave, my friend, Dave! He won't really hurt me!!" I desperately wanted to believe it too. Suddenly, I gasped and jumped, startled, as I felt his hand. The car had stopped briefly and his hand was roaming over my stomach until it found the area between my legs. He began touching me then....stroking, exploring...gently but insistently, as if he had every right. There was certainly no one here to stop him. In my helpless position I couldn't even swat his hand away. I began making noises of protest around the rubber ball in my mouth--that was my only defense as I was being felt up like a piece of prime-cut meat. "Go ahead," he laughed. "that's just music to my ears". He went back to driving, but every time he was stopped after that, I would feel him groping for me again...making the tingles begin despite my terror. "Wow...I think you're wet already!" he taunted with glee. I couldn't feel the wetness yet, but I didn't doubt it. I did feel a throbbing tingle by this time. The next time we stopped, he reached for my breasts. He roughly fondled them; making me squeal with pain as he pinched my nipples. The next time he reached for me I started to jerk away, trying to twist away from him. There was no escape of course, but I still tried to elude that rude hand. "Go ahead....fight me Bitch!" He sounded angry. My attempts to keep away from him were only making him grope me roughly. I surrendered then and stopped trying to pull away. To my surprise, I began to part my thighs when he reached for me. I told myself I should cooperate and not anger him with further resistance, but that isn't entirely why I stopped fighting. The throbbing tingles were becoming unbearable. At that point I couldn't have moved from his hand if I were entirely free to do so. His touches had awakened Heather. Although part of me was horrified at the slutty reactions of my body, I was sort of relieved she was there. After what seemed a long time, the car stopped with finality. I took a deep breath and tried to brace myself for whatever was to come next. I assumed we were stopped at wherever this event was to take place. Opening the door closest to my feet, he pulled the cover off me again. I was glad, because I was starting to get hot under there. He helped me into a sitting position and I could feel him removing the cuffs. I was totally unprepared for what happened next. I looked around, bewildered. he'd parked in a car wash of all things. It was one of those coin-op do-it-yourself places, and it was keeping us hidden somewhat from the busy morning traffic. "You're going to take a different kind of ride now, " he said matter-of-factly, "in my trunk". The calm I'd been trying to maintain all morning suddenly shattered. I remembered that he'd mentioned putting me there, but I didn't think he really meant to do it...not on a hot August day!! The comforter had already made me uncomfortably warm. I was sure I'd suffocate in a car trunk--if I didn't die of the heat first. I began desperately shaking my head and screaming unintelligible words behind the gag. "I'll BURN UP!!!", I kept shrieking, but I was frustrated because it couldn't come out as words behind that goddamned rubber ball. "What?", he would ask, smiling, knowing I couldn't speak. Still I shouted it again and again...really starting to lose it now. Finally he removed my gag. "Ohgod Dave, please don't put me in there", I pleaded, probably quite loudly. "I'll burn up!" A sob shook my body and made my voice pitiful. "Naaahh", he said pleasantly and nonchalantly as he began to gather up what looked like tons of rope. He told me to get out, then he opened the trunk. Oh God, I remember thinking with desperate fear, it was so tiny! "Come on Heather," he was saying sternly, but not unkindly. "get in there....now" I continued to plead, very near tears. "Nooo, PLEASE!! you don't have to do that!!" "But I want to" he was grinning still, but I thought maybe I saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes...of pity maybe. "NO! Oh please don't make me get in there! I'll be good!!" I was pleading like a small child who didn't want to be sent to her room. "Get IN there!" He was getting pissed at me, so with a sob of defeat, I crawled into the small space and lay on my stomach--terrified of being locked in there in the dark, unable to move. He began winding rope around my wrists, which were pulled behind me once again, then my ankles. It seemed to take forever. When he was finished I was tightly hog-tied. I'd never been tied that way before and it was terrible. That has to be the most helpless feeling in the world. I could move neither my arms nor my legs, and the ropes were painfully tight. He finished by shoving the hated ball-gag back in my mouth. "Ok, get comfortable!" he was saying cheerfully, "it's a long way back to Ohio". I turned my head and screamed "NOOO!!!" behind the gag, but the lid slammed down on my protest and I was alone in this small space that had suddenly gotten smaller....and darker.... I was fairly sure he was just kidding about driving back to Ohio with me....but I really couldn't be sure. How do I even describe what that ride was like? In many ways things got much worse that morning, but being locked in that trunk was the most nightmarish part of the entire episode. Unable to move my limbs, I tried not to think about the possibility of a car wreck-- I'd be squashed like a bug in a beer can. I tried not to think of that song by Eminem about the crazed fan who went over a bridge with his girlfriend in the trunk....and how horrible it would be to die that way; drowning slowly while hogtied in a trunk. I remember closing my eyes and dropping my head onto the carpeted floor of my tiny prison as I told myself there wasn't one damn thing I could do about any of this. Whatever was to happen would happen. Surrendering to my helplessness was almost liberating in a way--it did help to calm me somewhat. For a while anyway. Before things got really bad, I noted with relief that I wasn't in total darkness. The inside of the trunk was more dim than anything...as dark as a back bedroom with the curtains tightly drawn on a bright day. Also, it wasn't nearly as hot in there as I'd feared. I could even feel air coming in from somewhere. I was clinging to every little comfort I could find. He'd been driving at a fairly sedate pace for a while. I think he discovered by accident how turning corners or stopping suddenly would cause me to cry out. Unable to move my arms or legs, I was helpless to stop my body from sliding, tilting or even rolling with each turn or lurch of the car. That was a terrible feeling, but it got much much worse. The first time I'd started to slide with a turn of the car, I'd made a startled, fearful noise thru the gag, then I could hear Dave, as though from a very long distance saying, "Oh good!! I can hear you!" I don't think he'd counted on the added bonus of being able to hear the cries of his cargo. The car began to speed up. He was obviously on a bypass or highway by now and most likely driving the speed limit; however it felt like he was going 100mph from where I was. Once again I struggled to push away bloody images of what would be left of me if we crashed. Suddenly, the ride went from nightmarishly surreal to hellishly terrifying. He'd obviously found some country roads. While in town, the turns and stops were bad enough; unable to instinctively brace myself with my hands or even hold on to anything, I'd discovered that leaning away from the turns as much as possible helped to keep me from at least rolling, even if I still slid some. Now nothing helped as he began to make sharp crazy turns, sudden stops and I don't even know what else. All I knew was that I was being buffeted from one end of that small space to the other...quite hard sometimes. The motion of the crazily careening car was making me crash into the sides...my head, my arms, my legs...nothing was spared as I was cruelly thrown about. At one point, as I was sliding violently forward, I narrowly avoided being impaled either in my eye or thru my face by a jutting piece of metal. I don't know what it was--maybe part of a handle or something. I totally lost it then and began to scream while hearing my tormentor cackling wildly. Once I started screaming I couldn't stop. At that point I didn't care if somebody heard me....I didn't care if Dave got angry....I just wanted him to stop the car...even if it was only to bitch at me to be quiet. Eventually the car did stop. When the lid of my prison was opened, I lay there, my head turned away from him, dry-sobbing but at least no longer hysterical as I felt him unwind the rope. I was feeling an odd mixture of relief, anger, fear, even something like gratitude as I realized I was about to be freed from that particular hell. I could see that we were on some country road, just as I'd thought, as he helped me out. Behind the excitement on his face, I thought I detected some anxiety, and even a small measure of remorse as he almost tenderly helped me into the passenger side of his car. For the first time I was going to get to ride like a passenger instead of cargo. He'd even removed that fucking gag. I really had no idea where we were going or what was next--I was drained after the trunk ride from Hell, and just glad to be out of there. "What was that like?", he asked, with what sounded like genuine curiosity rather than malice. When I answered it came out in a ragged but perfectly audible half-whisper. "It was fucked up..." And that was only the beginning. * * * * * * * * * * * * He had instructed me on the way back into town that I was to walk closely beside him when we reached his hotel..."like we're boyfriend and girlfriend". I uneasily hoped I wouldn't be recognized by anybody--but nobody I knew hung out at hotels (at least that I knew of), and there was nothing I could do about it anyway, so I agreed to be good. It's kind of funny how resignation can soothe fear somewhat. After the initial relief of making it inside the hotel room without being confronted with an in-law or something, my fear returned as I realized that whatever else happened, it was going to happen here...behind this locked door. I saw the big bed in the room and shuddered then quickly looked away. The sheets had been neatly pulled down as if in preparation for a pleasant nap, or lovemaking....or a rape. Once inside, Dave became quite cordial--as if I were an honored visitor rather than his captive. He bade me sit down, not on the bed, but rather in the comfortable stuffed chair that most hotels provide in the nicer rooms. He told me to relax...get comfortable. He brought me a cup of water. "I'm sure you could use this", he said kindly as he handed it to me. "Yes....thank you", I murmered as I relieved my dry mouth, throat and lips with it. I was quite sure that his kindness was only temporary, but I was almost pathetically grateful for it. I could feel my wound-up nerves calming a bit. He was sitting on the bed and looking at me as if for the first time. At least his look was friendly. I noticed how dark his eyes looked in that room....how hypnotic they were. When they met mine, I found I couldn't quite look away. He stood up, then told me to do the same. I obeyed and stood there nervously as he looked me up and down. "You really are hot....you know that? You're much better- looking than in your pictures". I was sort of startled, since I'd believed the opposite was true. "Thank you", I whispered....That seemed strange to be thanking my abductor for a compliment, but it was automatic I guess. Besides, he really did look impressed--even awed somewhat. The irony wasn't lost on me...remember, this was my friend who I'd believed liked me but wasn't really attracted to me. He began to walk around me, then stopped when he got behind me. I stood still, trying to wait bravely for whatever was going to happen. I really wasn't prepared for the kisses on my neck...the hands gently caressing my shoulders and arms. I couldn't even remember the last time a man had done that. I'm not sure my husband ever did. Despite my raging nervousness I could feel myself becoming aroused again. He stepped in front of me, caressed my hair for a moment then gently commanded me to kiss him. I found I didn't mind at all....it was a short kiss, but memorable. As our lips met, I was aware of my heart racing again. Breaking the kiss, he stepped back and told me to take my dress off. I was glad he wasn't going to rip or cut it after all. Maybe it occured to him that I'd have to go home wearing something. Slowly I pulled the garment off and dropped it to the floor. Later, I wondered why I didn't feel any embarrassment about it. I didn't remove anything else....just stood there in my bra, panties, thigh- highs and heels--watching his eyes widen as he took in the sight. "Ohhh...", he breathed as he looked me over. "You really are very hot....very nice" I think I almost smiled--he was being way nicer than I'd expected, at least for now. He looked at my purple lacy bra, the one where my nipples were subtly, but clearly visible, my black satiny panties, and my black thigh-high stockings with what looked like amazement--as if he wasn't expecting the bonus of sexy underwear, and asked almost shyly if I'd worn all that for him. I did feel some embarrassment then as I nodded, but why deny it? I realized that when I bought them a few weeks ago, I'd gotten them to wear for him. Ditto the dress. I'd been preparing even then. "Time for a few pictures!" I winced, but I'd been expecting that. We'd had a controversial discussion online about his plan to record the whole event for posterity with pictures. I was dead-set against it and nearly called a halt to the whole thing--of course by the time he'd informed me of this, it was already too late. He was coming no matter what I said at that point. However I did try to talk him out of pictures, fearing I'd end up on the damned internet someday. I only stopped arguing about it after he gave his word that no one else in the world would ever see them but himself. Believe it or not, his promise wasn't entirely what stopped my protests--it was what he said about wanting to always remember...the pictures being his proof to himself that it really happened. Call me strange if you want--call me tenderhearted or even stupid. But there was something so wistful at the time about his saying that...so genuine, that even though I couldn't hear his voice when he said it, he sounded for real, and I trusted him--like I'd trusted him not to kill me. Remember, we were friends after all, and despite the craziness of it all, he still was able to touch my heart sometimes. Trust me, I know how weird it all sounds. I was glad that it was a Polaroid camera at least. He produced another pair of handcuffs, but these were different than the ones I'd had on most of the morning. "Since I'm such a nice-guy rapist, I thought I'd use these", he said, grinning. "Fur-lined cuffs....nice huh?" I sort of shrugged and nodded a little to acknowledge that yes, as far as rapists go, that was a nice gesture....whatever. I meekly submitted to having them snapped on my wrists. Once again my arms were restrained behind me. Fully expecting to either be ordered or forced onto the bed, I was somewhat surprised when he told me to sit back down in the same chair I'd sipped my water in. I obeyed, then felt my face burn as he pulled my panties off. "Nice pussy...", he commented, still sounding impressed. "You trimmed it for me didn't you?" Once again I nodded. I always try to keep it trimmed, but he was right; just that morning I'd carefully given it a once-over. How perversely female can one get?? I sat still as he tied first one leg, then the other to the legs of the chair--using what seemed to be, once again, miles of rope. He was still being cordial, but I was beginning to get scared again. I wasn't planning to attempt an escape, but it's still disconcerting to be totally helpless--unable to move at all. When he was finally done, both ankles were tightly held fast at the chair legs...my arms were behind me, held by the fur-lined cuffs, and my upper body was secured flush against the back of the chair by all the rope he'd circled me with, even around my neck. He'd left my bra on, but pushed the lacy cups down, exposing my breasts. I nearly panicked again when he took more rope and began to tie my breasts with it. Around and around each breast he tied the rope--criss-crossing between them. I'd seen pictures of breast bondage but had never experienced it. I didn't want to experience it either! The pictures I'd seen were horrifying--women whose breasts were barely recognizable because they'd turned colors from no circulation. I started to wail and beg him to untie them. "It hurts!!! OOOH IT HURRRTS!!!", I could hear my voice rising in panic as I kept looking down at them in horror. "Aw...hell, that's nothing", he said cheerfully. "Think of it as a bra--it just gives em support." If I ever had a bra that hurt this much I'd never wear it, is what I was thinking as I continued begging him to take it off. "They'll turn BLUE!!", I nearly screamed. I think that's what scared me the most--seeing my own breasts monsterously squeezed till they were as ugly as the ones I'd seen in pictures. "No they won't", he assured me mildly...."Purple maybe" I could feel tears rising.."OH God....Oh please Dave....please take it off!! It really hurts!!" He started to snicker then...started to mock me. "Oooh it hurts....it hurrrrts!", he said in a prissy voice that was supposed to be me. "Gawd...you're such a crybaby". I despaired when I saw he wasn't going to listen or take pity. In fact he was balling up my panties and muttering about not wanting to hear any more. I knew he was about to gag me again so I tried to appeal to his humanity one more time while I still could. "Dave....please.....I don't want to be tortured!! I never wanted to be tortured! I never wanted that. Don't do this to me...please..." A cloud seemed to pass over his face. The impish grin slipped somewhat and he actually looked unsure...like maybe he was considering my pleas. However that look of hesitation passed and he quickly shoved my panties into my mouth before I could say anymore. The look on his face now was one of determination and growing excitement as he placed lengths of duct tape over my mouth, effectively insuring that I couldn't spit out the panties, or say another word. I was now totally helpless...completely at his mercy. Whatever he planned to do to me was going to happen. Just like he'd said on the phone. And he did a lot..... * * * * * * * * * * I felt my eyes widen when he approached me with his knife. It wasn't an OJ knife---maybe 4 or 5 inches long, but it was wickedly sharp. Helplessly I felt the sharpness as he trailed it over my right breast, made even more senstive by the ropes that were pushing them out. So far they hadn't turned colors yet, and I realized with some gratitude that he hadn't tied them as tightly as the ones in the pictures. I hadn't experienced much knife play--practically none at all in fact, but I had written of it, and imagined it to be erotically scary and something of a turn-on. I was unprepared for the hysterical panic however, when he told me he wanted my nipple as a souvenier. I was shaking my head and shrieking with terror when I actually felt the sharp blade against my nipple. Part of me was trying to tell the rest of me that he surely wouldn't do that....that he was just fucking with my head. But the horror was that I couldn't be sure. He sounded serious! "Just take a deep breath baby...it'll be over in a few seconds". I think I nearly fainted in my extreme fear, but then he started to laugh. "Aw, I wouldn't do that!" I was way too relieved to be angry with his cruel sense of humor. I kept trying to tell myself this was just like him. That his torture of me would most likely be 90% mental--as it had been all along. But that's really hard to keep in mind while being tied up and menaced that way. As if I'd passed some test and pleased him greatly, or maybe to make up for the heart attack he'd nearly given me, he untied my breasts to my great relief. That really did hurt, even if they didn't turn color. My relief was short-lived however when he brought out some clothespins. See, in my exploration of the dark side of sexuality, I'd read stories and seen pictures of the use of clothespins and once I'd even decided to put one on my own nipple just to see how it felt. As I'd slowly released the pressure on one end, and felt the other end begin to close on my nipple, I didn't even get close to clipping it all the way. The pain just from that almost-experience had been unbelievable!! "Fuck that!", I remembered muttering as I threw the clothespin back where I'd gotten it and wondered how anybody could possibly stand being clamped with one all the way. I heard myself whimpering as I saw that I was about to find out. "Oh, it won't be too bad", he said when he saw my wild look, "these are mild. I loosened the springs some". Mild or not, they still hurt like hell....not quite as bad as the one I'd attempted to try on myself, but no picnic either. He decorated each breast with four or five in a circle on the flesh itself, then one on each nipple. I was biting into my panty gag and whining my discomfort as he stood back to admire his work. "That's nice...Just hang on while I take a few pictures". I was able to endure it while he snapped away, much relieved that it didn't hurt any worse than it did, then sighed with even more relief when he removed them. Of course, I should have known I wouldn't get off that easy. The next device he pulled from his hellish bag of toys looked much more painful. It was simply two small clamps with a thin chain linked between them. "This will hurt a lot more", my tormentor informed me with a devilish smile as he got closer and closer to my breasts. Instinctively I tried to move away from the ever-advancing clamp, but of course could only shrink back so far. The pain was sharp, sudden and very intense as first one nipple, then the other was tightly pinched by each clamp. I screamed once, then bit into my gag again, this time much harder. Once again I had to wait till he got the pictures he wanted--it seemed to take forever but couldn't have been more than a minute. I could feel sweat popping out on my face. My head was thrown back, eyes tightly shut as I repeated over and over to myself, like a mantra, take it...Take it....you can do it....ohgod just a little longer.... I suppose I made a perfect picture of agony. Dave seemed pleased as he held up the pictures one at a time as the images began to appear. "These are going to be great Babe!" He looked quite happy, and though I didn't begrudge him that, the pain hadn't abated and I'd begun to groan, breathing harshly thru my nose with the effort it was taking to continue bearing it without screaming again. Dave turned his attention back to his captive model and took hold of the chain that was now hanging between my clamped tits, giving it the tiniest of tugs. "You see the cool thing about this? I can just pull the chain and yank them right off you!" I did scream then, pleading with my eyes for him not to do it. He grinned while gently removing each clamp, to my enormous relief. "Nah, I won't be that cruel....this time." I couldn't help but notice his arousal--very obvious. On one hand I was horrified and even more scared to know he was taking such pleasure and being so turned on by my pain. On the other hand, knowing how my pain affected him fascinated me somewhat. I'd never explored or even thought about a man getting aroused by making me suffer. My husband, and any lovers before him were always careful not to hurt me. Certainly no one had ever tied me up for the express purpose of hurting me. It was a very foreign concept to me. In a very real way, Dave was making me feel like my being here, tied to this chair and enduring the pain he dished out, was a wonderful gift to him. The way he was acting, smiling and cheerful, he was like a kid with an awesome birthday and Christmas present combined. "So!", he exclaimed, still the eager and excited kid, "What's next?" As though this were a party. Before deciding, he apparently figured he needed to check the status of his toy. My bound legs jerked involuntarily when he suddenly thrust his hand between my legs again--only this time without the fragile barriers of panties and dress. He seemed startled, but pleased to find me wet. Actually, wet doesn't really cover it; I was drenched...gushing....soaked. Testing the waters, he plunged a few of his fingers deeply into me. "What a mess you are! You're really into this aren't you?" I was shaking my head, but he'd disappeared into the bathroom and paid no attention. I heard him saying that he had something else for me since I was holding up so well. Oh God..what now?? I just wanted this to be over. Wet or not, I was sick of being pushed, prodded, poked at, pinched and bounced around. I was fervently hoping he was almost done. My ordeal wasn't even halfway over.
part 5....the torture continues.. When I saw the small black box with the buttons and dials in his hands when he re-emerged I nearly lost it again. By itself, the box wouldn't have sparked any recognition; however it was the two wires dangling from this box that caused me to stiffen and scream "NOOOO!!", gagged or not. I knew what this was since he'd tormented me with pictures of this particular torture. He intended to torture me next with electric shock. Omigod!, I thought frantically. He can't!! It was just too horrifying.....probably dangerous! Dave grinned again, no doubt gratified by my reaction. I was shaking my head violently, uselessly struggling, nearly crying and trying to make eye contact. "Wow!", he exlaimed happily, "I just love those pleading eyes!" I couldn't continue the eye-pleading because he kneeled before me and was gently licking my right nipple. Just when I thought it was going to be ok, that he was only trying to scare me with the electricity thing, he stopped licking, placed one of those wires against the now wet nipple and said, "Wet nipple...good conductor", as he placed a piece of duct tape over my breast, effectively holding the wire in place. I moaned and slumped in defeat as he did the same to my left nipple. "This is going to be so much fun!", he exclaimed as he picked up the box and began messing with some dials, "well....fun for me anyway", he amended I was whimpering, scared to death, as he messed with those dials. "Can you feel that?", he asked. I felt nothing so far except for the pounding of my heart. I considered pretending, but was sure I'd never get away with it. Before I could answer at all, however, he did something different with the controls and I made a startled sound when I did feel something. It's hard to describe...the closest I can get is that it felt something like a vibration....a warming vibration. It did startle me, but I was very relieved that it didn't hurt. "Oh cool!! That one makes you go mmmph!" Scared as I was I couldn't help feeling some amusement. I mean, he looked so cute when he said that. "That's the lowest current by the way". My urge to laugh was quite suddenly gone. After a few more mild shocks, which made me squirm, I felt another that made me stiffen and squeal into the gag. "Yep, that one's higher. I think you can take the highest one now" I was shaking my head desperately again until it was thrown back against the chair I was tied to. That one indeed felt much more powerful. Dave, of course, was delighted. "Now, let's try this" He pulled a plug out of the box. This plug happened to be the other end of the wires that were taped to me. He then informed me that he was turning the current up all the way to the highest setting again. Gleefully he shoved the plug back into the box. This time it felt like sparks were exploding against my nipples; the current shooting thru my body drove me back against the chair so hard that the front legs rose above the floor. "Oh this is FUN!! I could do this for hours!" I'm quite sure it wasn't hours, but he did shock my tits for quite a while, and every time on the highest setting. Over and over the maniac would dramatically plunge the end plug of my wires into its hole in the box and smile widely with sadistic happiness as I jerked violently, nearly overturning the chair that held me helpless, my body stiffening with the current running thru me until he unplugged it again. I was starting to beg (muffled of course) every time the current stopped. "Please STOP Pleeeeaase STOP oh no more Pleeeeease!!!" is about all I could manage, and muffled or not, the pleading tone in my voice couldn't be missed. Then he would shock me again. And again.... and again. He even taunted me by assuring me he'd stop if he saw smoke or smelled me cooking. I mentioned how he smiled....laughed even. That was one of the most frightening things about the whole ordeal. His smiles were chilling because they were so genuine. There were no fake evil smiles or laughs....he wasn't playing a part. He was truly enjoying my suffering; a fact he'll admit freely to this very day. Periodically, he would stop shocking me, kneel closer to me and gently stroke my damp hair away from my sweaty face. He would caress my hair and face and look at me kindly with what seemed to be genuine affection. During these small breaks I would sometimes try to plead some more, but he would smile at me lovingly, then go right back to shocking me. After a while I gave up pleading. It was doing no good anyway. Being shocked repeatedly like that was horrific; electric shock is an odd kind of pain. Not sharp like the clamps, but much scarier...much more violent. The initial shock to the nipples hurt of course, but the current coursing thru my body was much worse. Not conventionally painful, but powerful....terrifying. Each time I jerked, was thrown into the chair, or felt my body stiffen I felt like a puppet. I was being moved and manipulated by a force outside myself--helpless to stop it Just when I was sure I would lose my sanity if this continued he finally tired of this game--maybe because I'd stopped pleading and merely slumped forward between shocks, moaning softly. I watched dully as he slowly peeled the tape off each breast and removed the wires. He was talking to me as he did. "Well, this has been really fun...but it occurs to me that I've been doing all the work" Poor baby, I thought sardonically. But I knew where this was leading--in fact I'd expected it much sooner. He untied me from the hated chair, removed my gag, gave me another sip of water, then ordered me to get up. It was rather difficult since my wrists were still cuffed behind me, throwing off my balance. Impatiently he hauled me up by one arm, cursing, pulling me over till we were both standing beside the bed, then ordered me to my knees. I dropped to them rather awkwardly and before I even had my bearings, he'd released his erection and it was in my face. "Suck it", he commanded. I don't know if he was expecting an argument or not, but he was probably surprised by how quickly I bent to my task. "Yeah...you're a whore, you know what to do", he encouraged as I tentatively licked the head and the shaft, then took it into my mouth. I did these things almost eagerly. See, everything he'd done to me so far was so way out, scary and so different from anything I'd ever known or wanted to know that a forced blowjob didn't seem so bad at this point. Giving head was at least familiar to me. Of course, he even had to make that different by taking more pictures. I didn't relish the idea of there being pictures of me doing this, but it was out of my hands. I heard clothes being removed quickly...urgently. I paused what I was doing and caught his eye as he wrenched his remaining clothes from his body impatiently. He had a wild look in his eyes and before I knew it, he was holding my head firmly in place, gripping fistfulls of my hair, and began thrusting into my mouth hard and fast. I could feel myself trying to gag but fought it as much as I could. "Choke on it bitch!! CHOKE ON IT!!!", he snarled as his viscious lunges came even harder and faster. He was fucking my immobilized face in a frenzy. Gone was the cordial and cruelly humorous host/torturer he'd been most of the morning. He was in rapist mode now and clearly this wasn't going to be pleasant. Unbelievably he began cursing me when his maniacal thrusts scraped my back teeth. Like it was my fault. In my position, kneeling, wrists still cuffed behind me, head held fast, I couldn't do anything but keep my mouth open as wide as possible while trying to keep my lips sealed over him as he plundered it. He was fucking into it so hard I couldn't control anything, not even my own movements. He continued the brutal face fuck a little longer--all the while complaining and insulting me with remarks like "Gaahd...you're awful at this!" and "Is this the first time you ever sucked dick?" I suppose humiliation was his goal. However I didn't feel humiliated, just annoyed. Without warning he withdrew and delivered a sharp slap to my face. Tears sprung to my eyes. "Get up bitch", he muttered as he hauled me to my feet again, then unlocked the cuffs. Once my wrists were free, he shoved me onto the bed and told me to lay on my back. He produced some more rope and began to wind a length of it around one of my wrists. I wondered vaguely what he was going to tie it to, since the bed had no posts, however my rapist was nothing if not resourceful. There were two bedside lamp fixtures bolted to the wall on both sides of the bed, and he tied the other end of the rope binding my wrist to it, then did the same with my other wrist and the fixture on that side. The next length of rope was wound around my leg just above the knee, then after my leg was hoisted up, knee bent, the rope was tied to the same fixture my wrist was already tied to. The same procedure was repeated with the other leg and when he was finished I was on my back, arms spread, wrists tightly tied, my legs raised and spread as well--the ropes above each knee forcing them widely apart. I was totally exposed, vulnerable and once again helplessly bound. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the pictures he was now taking from the foot of the bed. I suppose I did feel humiliation then. When Dave finally put down the camera and the new batch of lewd pictures of me, he approached the bed--the wild look back in his eyes-- to observe his captive so totally helpless and open to the rape he'd been planning for some time. I eyed him fearfully then flinched when he shoved his fingers into me again. He laughed to find me wetter than ever. "What a mess", he said again, as he picked up my panties from the floor and began wiping the wetness from between my legs. He showed me the panties, still damp from having been in my mouth earlier, now glistening with my juices. "See? See what a whore you are?" he asked cheerfully. I didn't say anything but could feel my face burning. I think I was more embarrassed by my wetness than my nudity. Suddenly he was forcing them back into my mouth--the wettest part first so I would have to, as he put it, taste myself. I felt disgust, but truthfully it wasn't as gross as it sounded. Not that I liked it, but the idea was worse than the reality. After securing the panty gag with more tape, he crawled onto the bed. He was taking his time, gazing at his captured prize, savoring the moment. His hands were everywhere then....caressing here, pinching there, his breathing heavy as was my own. I was squirming and whimpering under his touch...trying to prepare for his ultimate invasion of me. After all the torment, all the chats that were joking at first, then dead serious, all the threatening emails, after the stalking, the abduction and all the tortures it was down to this-- me, helplessly tied, spread open for him while he prepared to take me as he'd vowed to do so often. He was now on top of me....staring into my eyes. I could feel his hardness against me. I was staring back when he drove forward and entered me with one hard lunge. A harsh gasp, then a sharp scream escaped me. I could hear him moan faintly. His arms were under me, hands gripping my shoulders tightly, his breath hot against my neck. He stayed that way a few moments, deep inside me but not moving, as if he were savoring the feeling....or regaining control. Then he began to move.....slowly at first. He would pull out nearly all the way, then force himself back into the depths of my body with a sharp thrust, forcing a cry or a moan from me each time. After a while of this--during which the tingles were spreading throughout my entire body, causing me to writhe under him as much as my bondage would allow, my moans began changing in tone from frightened and pained to animalistic and urgent. He raised up some, one hand squeezing my left breast, then began pumping into me with an urgency of his own, each forward thrust hard as a blow. "You like this Bitch?", he rasped as he fucked into me harder, violating me roughly. My outcries that no gag could completely silence were my only replies. My body was thrashing under the assault, wrists and legs hurting terribly from the combination of my writhing and the hard pounding which drove my body violently into the limits of the ropes. My head was thrashing too, side to side as if in protest, my cries getting louder....I knew, and so did he, that an enormous explosion was building inside me. He had raised himself up further and was now clutching my open thighs in a painful grip as he fucked me harder and harder. I could hear him saying things like, "Ohh you BITCH.....oh yesss....my bitch....MY Bitch!! All mine..." and his words were driving me even closer to the edge. I'm not sure how long this went on, but the moment arrived when my entire body stiffened violently as if I were being shocked again, the current of a powerful orgasm rushing thru me this time, my cries likely deafening were I not gagged. I dimly heard Dave gasp, then moan loudly as the muscles inside my pussy spasmed and squeezed his invading shaft tightly, driving him over the edge as well. Our cries and groans mingled as he fell onto me, driving his lust and his rage and his cock into me hard several more times before he stiffened as well, and I felt the rush of his own orgasm fill me in the form of hot, steadily shooting sperm. Finally all frenzied motion stopped as we lay there panting, his sweat covering me, his spent cock begining to shrink some, but still buried inside me, his face against mine. He raised up on his elbows after a while of this after-the-event silence, and looked at my face again...his eyes locking onto mine, drawing me inside them. He pulled the tape off my face as gently as possible, pulled out the panty gag and kissed me long and passionately. I was returning these kisses with equal passion, my bound arms longing to wrap around him. As if reading my thoughts, he untied me as quickly as he could then gazed at me in wonder it seemed, as I held out my free arms in a come-to-me gesture. When he crawled into my embrace, he was captured himself....completely enveloped as my arms and legs wrapped around him. My rapist was a willing captive..... We lay on our sides, bodies wrapped around each other, for a long time. Sometimes we kissed, long sweet intoxicating kisses. Sometimes we would just lie there clinging to each other as if we would surely drown if we let go. I really had no idea, when all this began, how I would feel when it was over--about Dave or myself. Over the past several months I'd seen my longtime online friend change from a harmless, if somewhat demented, fun person to joke around with, argue with, complain about my husband to, etc., to a determined, menacing presence who delighted in scaring me. Thru our longtime friendship I had in turn liked him a lot, disliked him a lot, laughed at his jokes, trembled over his threats, loved him as a close friend, and sometimes hated and feared him as a dangerous villain. The most I had hoped for was that I could still think of him as a friend. The last thing I'd expected to feel was this overwhelming tenderness. It seemed to flow from a deep wellspring in my heart that I never knew existed. Like it had been there silently waiting.....waiting for him. It felt very pure somehow, almost cleansing....and very close to love, a word I rejected in terror. It was beautiful, this feeling, but it couldn't be love of all things! Our passion rose again as we continued to kiss, caress and hold each other. When we could stand it no more, we made love urgently, wildly, and of course,...tenderly. Yeah, I said made love. No one could possibly call what was happening a rape. That is, unless the accused rapist was me. I had become quite aggressive, wanting him as I'd wanted nothing or no one else. I felt the same urgency from him--our emotions seemed to swirl together as our bodies joined wildly. At one point, while making love to me slowly and tenderly, Dave started murmering endearments to me--or I should say endearments according to Dave's definition. He was telling me how much he loved torturing me, how lovely I was while suffering, and how much more he would hurt me when we next meet again. Perhaps that would have ruined everything for most women. But his words, promising much pain and many tears, only drove me closer to the ecstacy I was already approaching. ******* I was standing beside my car, my hand raised in a farewell, watching my friend drive away. It was early afternoon by this time. Dave had a long drive ahead of him and my husband would be home in a few hours. It was time to go back to our real lives. I was smiling at him as I waved. Inside, something of a meltdown had already begun, but I wouldn't be aware of it for a while. Later, I would find myself bursting into tears without warning....not once, not twice, but several times. I wouldn't even know why. I was relieved, of course, that I hadn't been hurt--at least not badly. I was relieved that my friend wasn't a total psycho....and I was relieved that I still thought of him as my friend. Neither one of us was sure how this event would affect our friendship. We weren't naive enough to think it could ever be the same, but once this had been set in motion neither one of us could stop it from happening, regardless of the consequences. I think we were both in mild states of shock as we had dressed and prepared to part company. The conversations we had then and in his car were light, friendly and totally familiar--like how we were online. I think that's when I knew for sure that we'd be ok. It amazed me how much I felt I knew him, even though technically we'd only just met. He was very much like he was online, and I felt the same affection for him that I did when we were chatting so many miles apart, only stronger now. Unfortunately, we couldn't linger. He'd be getting home late as it was, and he had to work the next day. With a final squeeze of hands and a furtive kiss, I was out of his car and waving goodbye. I silently wished him a safe journey home as I got into my car and prepared to return to my real life--in many ways, it was as far from me now as Dave's home was from him. I wondered if I'd ever see him again. I wondered why I felt so empty....so lost. So much had happened....so many different emotions had been felt, ranging from the extremely negative to the heights of bliss--and that was just in one day; never mind my torment of all those weeks before. After all the fear and confusion he'd put me through I wondered why I should feel so affectionate..so damn tender...why I couldn't stop seeing his eyes..... The Aftermath There really is no aftermath. Our story continues even as I'm trying to conclude this documentation. Far from ruining our online friendship, the experience drew us even closer--much closer than ever before. We try not to let a day go by without talking--our computers the only link we have over the distance. I'm not saying it's always been easy. We both had a very hard time accepting how we feel. Neither one of us expected to feel so much. Sometimes we still avoid spilling the contents of our hearts to each other--our feelings so raw, so vulnerable, our hearts so easily breakable right now. I don't know how many times I've wept openly while sitting at my computer--either from the pain of an errant word or the joy of knowing my feelings are returned. We both lived a fantasy that day. Dave discovered how it truly felt to stalk, abduct, torture and rape a woman. I felt the terror....the helplessness...and the incredibly intense arousal that resulted without being murdered or totally brutalized. Even the torture aroused me in ways I didn't expect. Wet as I was, it obviously affected me physically, even though I hated it. Even now I don't consider myself a masochist in any way. The thought of experiencing pain doesn't excite me. However, the memory of experiencing the pain Dave inflicted on me....well that's entirely different. I would often find myself throbbing and wet as I remembered enduring the sharp pain of the clamps...and the more abstract yet terrifying pain of being shocked repeatedly. Then I find myself wondering how it would be to endure even more. In some ways I want to....even though it scares me....these crazy longings scare the hell out of me. That day was an unforgettable experience for both of us. But of course it wasn't enough. We both knew early on that it wasn't over--that we both had to experience it all again. Maybe we just had to see each other again. Dave's taste of my fear was like a drug to him I think. He knew my fear was genuine and longed to taste it again, but was worried that I couldn't possibly be afraid of him anymore. Of course he came back....about a month and a half later. He needn't have worrried about my not being scared of him. We didn't meet like lovers--I received another phone call when he got to town. Ignoring my friendly greeting, he tersely instructed me to meet him again....same place. His voice wasn't friendly at all, and he informed me I was in major trouble. The abduction was every bit as thrilling as before, and yes I was scared all over again. The backseat and the trunk were both used again....I was still terrified of the trunk and pleaded again to be spared that ride from Hell, but to no avail. The tortures were even worse....just as he'd promised. The clamps were left on longer till I was shrieking hysterically thru the gag. The shocks were longer and much more intense. This time Dave would sometimes shout, "THIS is for being married!!", or "THIS is for living so far away!!!" right before delivering a particularly nasty shock to my helpless, thrashing body. I was made to feel the stinging burn of hot candle wax being dripped on me while tied to the bed....I was made to feel the excruciating sting of his belt as well after being roughly turned over and tied face-down to the bed. I finally broke down and sobbed loudly with that pain...my bound body twisting and turning in agony while uselessly trying to avoid each blow...each blow that just kept coming, my screams and wails driving him to hit me again and again-- just to keep hearing them. I ended up having to hide the many welts for weeks. Oh yes....and the rape. The rape was again an event by itself. Enough said. I didn't understand why he liked hurting me. I didn't understand why I felt so special as I suffered for him....so turned on....so right. I didn't understand why in the midst of my screams of pain, real goddamn pain, I could feel something like pleasure underneath it because I knew how my screams were affecting him. When I asked him later why he liked to see me suffer, he answered simply, "Because I love you". I don't claim to understand it, but it struck a chord with me and sank deeply. It sounded right somehow. And who can claim to understand love anyway, no matter what form it takes? I love Dave very much. I think about him all the time. Yet I'm still afraid of him.....deeply afraid, and I'll tell you why. At the beginning of this story I mentioned his favorite fetish...one we both avoided speaking of at the beginning of this obsession with each other. It's called BATS to those in the know. No, I don't mean the wicked little flying rodents. BATS is short for Burned At The Stake. Yeah....that fetish, the one I found so disturbing I wasn't even sure I wanted to be friends with the guy when we began talking. Yes, his old obsession and his new one (me) are beginning to connect in that scary mind of his, and it's my fault. You see, in a burst of daring and great affection, I offered to pose for a BATS picture for him sometime. As long as there were no real flames I didn't see the harm and I was even beginning to understand a small part of the appeal. The bondage and fear of the situation is what finally caused me to view the BATS pictures I saw on occasion with new eyes. Actual burning was horrifying to me still, and I didn't want to be burned of course--my new fascination didn't extend that far...only to being tied to a stake and watching helplessly as wood was piled at my feet. I could only imagine the powerful rush of fear. Dave was surprised by my offer--an offer made for two reasons. I wanted to see what it felt like to be tied to a stake and menaced (but NOT hurt!!) and I wanted him to see me that way simply because I wanted to be a part of his favorite fantasy. I wanted him to have pictures of me helplessly struggling in vain to free myself-- my eyes showing the terror of an impending fiery doom. In short, I wanted the honor of being his favorite BATS girl. By making such an offer, whatever my reasons, I had unwittingly given him new ammunition to torment me with. Now he speaks of our next meeting with renewed enthusiasm. He speaks of burning me often.... I keep reminding him that I DON'T want to be burned, only tied to a stake. He casually promises to TRY not to let that happen, as long as "something doesn't go horribly wrong and I can't put you out in time". He wickedly tells me he'll have to get ahold of a video camera just in case I do go up in flames. I know he's fucking with me. I know this! He has to be! But ohgod, I'm so damn scared now. He obviously intends to light the wood after all-- he even sent me the link to a page with detailed instructions on how lovers can enact a BATS scene carefully with no harm coming to the one at the stake. But things do go wrong. More so when playing with fire (literally), because of the unpredictable nature and sudden fury of it. Flames can go out of control so easily. I'm very afraid to see him again.....I really and truly don't want to die that way. As usual he laughs at my fears and says things to make them worse. He can be such a bastard that way sometimes. I love him very much, yet fear him as I fear Hell when he torments me like that.
part 6....the horrifying nightmare ending The Dream There are two recurring dreams that haunt me constantly. One is beautiful. I wake up smiling and sad at the same time whenever I have this dream. Smiling because it makes me happy, sad because it's only a dream. The other one is a horrible nightmare. Both dreams reveal the extreme feelings I have for Dave on both ends of the spectrum. How I love him....how I fear him. The Dream begins with me at his door. I don't know how I got there, but I show up at his door. He opens the door, his beautiful eyes wide with surprise and happiness. He grabs me and pulls me inside. We kiss urgently, passionately....we fall to a bed that magically happens to be there. He caresses my face and my hair and whispers, "I'll rape you later ok?....I just want to love you now". I whisper yes, because it's what I want too. I never remember the actual lovemaking in the dream so much as the joy. The joy is incredible. The Nightmare This will be very hard to write about. It's the worst and most realistic nightmare I've ever had and it won't go away. I don't know how many times I've had it now, but it's driving me insane. We're always in the woods, Dave and I. I always enter the dream after I've been tied--never during. Sometimes I'm wearing the olive dress from our first encounter; sometimes I'm nude. Sometimes I'm tied to a stake, my arms behind me, the rest of me tightly tied to the pole with what seems to be miles of rope. There's even rope around my neck, forcing me to stand very straight and erect. Sometimes I'm tied to a tree, my arms tied above my head to a branch, my ankles tightly tied to the tree, preventing me from kicking the large pile of wood at my feet away. There's always a large pile of wood. I watch helplessly as he piles even more, his hands shaking with excitement. Sometimes there's a video camera nearby on a tripod. And oh God, the stick-figures. I never see them right away but when I do I'm filled with dread. Every direction I look in these dream woods, there's those Blair Witch stick figures that were so creepy in the movie. They're everywhere....hanging from the trees. Some large, some small, but there seems to be an infinite amount of them. In the dream where I'm tied to a tree they're even hanging all around me. They always strike me as extremely bad omens. I can't explain why, but who knows with dreams? Who knows why they're even there? "Dave,....Dave, how did you get these?" I always ask fearfully, but he doesn't answer. He doesn't even seem to see them. I begin to whimper when he lights a torch. It looks like a large stick with a rag or something at the end. He stands there holding the torch and gazing up at me on top of my pyre of wood. I always seem to be on a pile at least 3 or 4 feet high. "Do you love me?", he always asks. As many times as I've had the dream, even while the aware part of me is screaming I always answer "yes". "Will you do anything for me?" Sobbing I always answer yes again even when I don't want to. He looks at me with love and lights the wood. I immediately begin to smell smoke and before long I hear the crackle as the flames begin to climb. Soon, I feel uncomfortably warm and try to tell him. He doesn't listen, just takes pictures of me. I try again...."Dave!" I say, "C'mon put it out now ok? It's getting hot up here.." Sometimes the smoke begins to drift into my face, making me cough. When I begin pleading with him to douse the fire, reminding him I'm not supposed to get hurt here, ....that's when the dream becomes truly horrifying. That's when he climbs the wood (obviously there's a side yet untouched by the growing flames) and shoves a pair of my panties into my mouth and tapes them inside. He grins with satisfaction and jumps down to safety while I'm shaking my head frantically--the noises I'm making thru the gag making him smile even more. I'm trying to calm down. Telling myself, of course he's going to make me sweat it out some. How fun could it be for him if he let me go the second I start getting uncomfortable? No way will he let me burn. He loves me. He takes more pictures. I'm thinking surely he has plenty by now. The fire must be getting closer....the smoke is thicker--it's hard to breathe now just thru my nose. The heat is more than uncomfortable now....my skin feels so hot that I begin to struggle harder, though I know it's no use. My only hope is that he'll see my suffering and put and end to this horrible, dangerous game. He sees my suffering but..., and this is almost the scariest part of the whole dream. His smile fades; he stops taking pictures and stands holding the camera loosely, as if he's forgotten about it, and just stares at the flames and at my struggles. He looks transfixed....no longer there...his eyes so blank...so fucking empty. Panicked now, I struggle even harder, thrashing and trying with all my strength to break the ropes although I know it's hopeless. OHGOD my toes...my feet!!! The fire wasn't supposed to get this close!! I'm screaming as loudly as my gag allows, which isn't much. What noise I'm able to make is being drowned out by the sound of the fire--getting louder by the second. I'm trying desperately to catch his eye, to snap him out of this....but he seems to look right thru me. I can see the flames now....Omigod, how did they get so high??? I see Dave through a heat shimmer . His figure is wavering in that illusion, otherwise he isn't moving at all. OH GOD WHY DOESN'T HE MOVE???? The flames are licking at me now....my struggles are no longer to get the attention of the hopelessly mezmerized David. They're now the frantic writhings of any living organism that jerks back instinctively from fire--that element of nature that painfully devours all in its path. But I can't jerk away from it, I'm tied too tightly....I know I'll die in agony long before the ropes that hold me will burn. ..My screams are muffled, I'm sure, but they're terribly loud to my own ears...they don't even sound human as the hungry flames begin to devour my legs. Every breath I manage to draw in is forced back out of me in one agonized scream after another...over and over and over as my flesh slowly cooks and all I can do is helplessly thrash and writhe...and scream.....and scream. I can't scream anymore....my voice has broken. It doesn't really matter now that I can't scream because the roar of the fire is so loud I'd no longer be heard even without the gag. It was doing no good anyway. I don't think you're supposed to be able to feel pain in dreams, and perhaps I don't feel a fraction of how much pain I would really feel, but I DO feel pain. My tortured mind must draw upon the memory of every time I've been burned accidentally--by a stove, with a careless cigarette, whatever. I can feel the tape over my face starting to melt. I smell my hair....Oh Christ it's all so fucking real. Every breath that I'm still desperately trying to pull in thru my nose is too hot....there really isn't much air around me anymore, just this unbearable heat....Am I still alive? There's nothing but this searing heat and smoke and horrible pain....and ohgod I think my blood is boiling inside me.....I can't even see Dave anymore.....I see nothing but this wall of fire. Why did he do this to me? Why can't I just die?.....The stick figures are burning too. I....can't.....breathe.....the flames have sucked away the last of my oxygen....OOOOHHHHGGAAAAHHD IT HUUURRRRRTS....my tortured mind screams loudly, but the only sound to be heard is the roar of the fire..... ******** "DAVID NOOOO!!! DON'T LET ME BURN!!!!" I've woke up screaming that more than once. My husband thinks I'm having nightmares about my ex-husband, an abusive asshole whose name was also David. I guess that's good. He thinks maybe I should see a shrink to find out why I'm suddenly having nightmares about him again. I claim to never remember the details when he questions me. But I do. Oh Jesus, I remember everything. Dave is coming back..... I've tried to tell him about my nightmare, how horrible it is. He thinks it's cool. It's not cool. It's not cool at all.....I'm terrified, and Dave is happy about that. I love you David....Oh...oh god, please don't let me burn. THE END ....for now
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