Hamburg Snuff Party

	Hamburg Snuff Party  by Llabmik

	Section 1 - The English Connection

	Chapter 1 - Mr. Smedley Makes A Deposit

	Nicole swallowed the bank manager's sperm.

	Mission accomplished, she got up off her knees and plucked her skimpy black
knickers from the floor. She stepped into them, pulling them up her long shapely
legs and snugging them over her smooth, shaven pussy. Nicole slipped on her bra
and cupped her mammoth mammeries with their big cherry nipples. She pointed her
toes prettily as she pulled on her black seamed stockings. She nimbly buttoned
her blouse and zipped up her skirt. She stepped into her shiny black, four inch
heels and smiled winningly.

	"I guess that about wraps up my loan application?"

	Smedley Hargreaves, who only had to zip up after she licked him clean, had
watched the reverse striptease with interest. He liked his loan applicants
kneeling naked with their mouths around his cock. Admittedly, he couldn't always
arrange that, but pretty Nicole had been nervous, naive and easily persuaded. He
grinned. Her loan had been a sure thing all along, but he saw no reason to cut
lovely Nicole in on this little factoid.

	"It's a sure thing now, Nicole!"

	Nicole had just sucked a new loan out of him to help the small shop she and
her friend Penny ran in Woking, Surrey. She and Penny wanted to do some
renovations on their small herbal tea shop. As she left the bank manager's
office, his secretary, Michelle (herself a nervous, naive and easily persuaded
girl) gave Nicole a sympathetic smile. A lovely asian girl, Michelle was
intimately familiar with Smedley's methods.

	As Nicole left the bank, Smedley buzzed Michelle. Her real name wasn't
Michelle. As is common among asians, she had adopted an English first name for
the convenience of people like Smedley Hargreaves, who hadn't any hope of (or
any interest in) pronouncing her real name.

	"Michelle! Come! I have some corrections for you!"

	As a recent immigrant to Merrie Olde England, profoundly grateful to Mr.
Hargreaves for sponsoring her, Michelle hurried to obey. She hustled into his
office, primly shutting the door behind her, not wanting to share her correction
with the other employees.

	"Michelle! What would your family in the old country say if you lost your
job and couldn't send money back to them?"

	Michelle looked anxiously at the letter clutched in Smedley's hand.

	"Did I do something wrong, sir?"

	Mr. Smedley Hargreaves adopted a stern, paternal air.

	"Michelle, there are quite a few spelling mistakes. You should use the
English spell checker, not the American one. It's spelled C-O-L-O-U-R here, not
C-O-L-O-R! We don't want people thinking that we're ignorant Americans! You're
in England. We do things right here! This is quite unacceptable!  I suppose that
next you'll be running around in a cowboy hat shouting yippee-yi-yo-kay-yay!"

	Michelle giggled nervously at this unlikely image. To the asian girl, it
seemed that the English were extremely particular. Smedley was always catching
her out in small errors. Michelle was contrite.

	"I'm sorry,sir. I'll do better next time."

	Like most abusive people, Mr. Smedley told everyone that he was 'firm, but
fair'.

	"Michelle! Whatever will I do with you? It wouldn't be right if I let you
get away with errors that none of the local girls would commit. I hired you over
them because I felt sure that you would always do the right thing. What is the
right thing here, Michelle?"

	Michelle knew what was required. She bent over, pulled up her skirt, pulled
down her knickers, stretched out her slim arms and touched her carefully
polished fingernails to her carefully polished toenails. She sighed inwardly as
Mr. Smedley pulled the cane out of his umbrella stand. If Mr. Smedley were
anything to go by, English employers were very fond of administering a good
caning to erring employees. She understood that it was a deeply shameful thing
to be caned by your employer, never to be mentioned to anyone.

	Her bare buttocks quivered delectably with each stroke. Thin red lines
appeared across both cheeks as the cane kissed her bare bum. The only sounds
were the vicious snap of the cane across Michelle's smoothly rounded buttocks
followed by a sharp intake of breath as Michelle swallowed the pain. Michelle
let out an involuntary cry as Mr. Smedley lifted both cheeks with a sharp cut
upwards for his final blow.

	Her rear end felt like it was on fire. Gingerly, she touched her inflamed
rump with her fingertips. She couldn't help herself. Ouch!

	Demonstrating the complete range of his sensitivity, Smedley handed her a
kleenex to dry her tears and blow her nose as she pulled up her knickers.

	"Nothing like a mild paddling to help you understand! To correct this
mistake, all you have to do is select the English spell checker and reprint it!
You've learned a valuable lesson. You'll never make that mistake again."

	Michelle rubbed her burning buttocks ruefully.

	"No, sir! Thank you for being so understanding!"


	Chapter 2 - Travel Plans

	Her partner, Penny, was waiting for Nicole in the coffee shop. Penny gushed,
blissfully ignorant of lovely Nicole's dick slurping.

	"You got our loan! I wish I had your powers of persuasion!"

	Her friend Penny thought that Nicole was a miracle worker, a silver tongued
orator when it came to persuading Mr. Smedley and, in a sense, she was. Penny
shuddered.

	"Smedley's a really creepy person. I could never deal with him!"

	Nicole preened, eager to be thought the smooth businesswoman.

	"It's something that they taught us at business school!"

	Penny was admiring.

	"But you do it with such flair!"

	Nicole wanted to take a break from the pressures of business. Her
negotiations with Smedley had left a bad taste in her mouth. She looked
earnestly at Penny.

	"Before we start the renovations with our new loan, why don't we take a
vacation? I got something else out of smelly old Smedley!"

	"What would that be, praytell?"

	"Two tickets to Hamburg for an all-expense paid trip! It's a lottery they
run for people who take out loans. We won!"

	Penny hugged her friend ecstatically.

	"Jolly good!"

	Nicole was pleased.

	"Smedley says that it's a nation-wide contest, but his bank has had two
other winners already. Two young fashion models apparently."

	Penny rolled her eyes.

	"As if fashion models need a break!"

	Nicole laughed.

	"Hey, just because we're not fashion models doesn't mean that were not
totally ravishing!"

	"Absolutely! I had some construction workers tell me that only the other
day!"

	"They said that you were ravishing?"

	"Well, words to that effect!"

	They giggled like schoolgirls. Penny was intrigued.

	"Tell me more about this trip we've won."

	"On the way here, I dropped in on the travel agent who handles the prize
winners. If we like, it even includes a naughty little trip to an underground
S&M club! They apparently put on quite a show for the tourists."

	"Um, is that safe?"

	"Safe as houses! According to the travel agent, it's just a bunch of sadists
and masochists that put on a show. You go with a guide to keep you out of
trouble. Nothing to worry about!"

	Penny grinned.

	"Let's do it!"


	Chapter 3 - Lap Dancer

	Lillith Hardcastle hated men. She was really looking forward to firing
Smedley for sexual abuse. Some thoughts lead naturally to others. She pressed
the button on her intercom.

	"Rebecca, could you come in for a moment?"

	Becky dutifully entered with her notepad, her big blue eyes wide and
adoring. She tactfully shut the door behind her. Lillith gave her a lewd grin.
Becky, greatly over-doing the wide-eyed innocent bit, also overdid the artless
bit.

	"Lillith, is there any little thing I could do for you?"

	Lillith batted her eyelashes coyly and did her Damsel In Distress imitation.

	"I seem to have lost my contacts under the desk. Could you help me look for
them?"

	"Why, certainly!"

	Surprise! Surprise! Lillith was naked from the waist down. She spread her
shapely legs invitingly.

	Becky got down on her knees under the desk, buried her face in Lillith's
muff and began probing with her tongue, teasing Lillith's clit out of hiding.
Soon Lillith's clit was stiff and throbbing while Lillith was sweating and
dripping in pornerastic bliss, her fluttering eyes narrowed to slits as Becky
beavered away skilfully between her parted thighs.

	One of the perq's of being a senior executive at an English bank was a
deluxe corner office featuring a massive mahogany desk, padded leather chairs,
teak panelling, a glorious view of London, a bar and, best of all, an ensuite
washroom complete with shower stall.

	Becky and Lillith chatted amiably as they soaped each other in the shower
afterwards.

	"I see that you've invited that creep Smedley down from Woking. He's your
last meeting of the day. Saving the best for last?"

	Lillith smirked.

	"As the Americans would say 'his ass is grass'."

	Becky arched her eyebrows inquiringly.

	"He's getting axed?"

	"Yes, for sexual abuse, and you're getting a ringside seat! The human
resources department requires a witness to be present during a termination
interview. I'll have you there making notes, in case he tries to pull a fast one
later about what was said or done."

	Becky grinned.

	"Excellent! I'll enjoy watching you make a grown man squirm!"

	Lillith was smug.

	"I'll have him blubbering like a baby!"

	"I should introduce you to my ex!"

	Lillith shook her head.

	"I can't believe you were ever interested in men! Crass brutes, every one of
them!"

	"At least I could breath when I was licking dick!"

	Lillith feigned amazement.

	"You have a problem with sticking your pretty face into a wet, smelly swamp
and then struggling to breath through the waves of cunt juice?"

	Becky looked at Lillith adoringly, the perfect suck-up underling.

	"Not as long as it's your swamp!"


	Chapter 4 - Smedley Busts a Bitch

	As soon as Smedley stepped into the office and introduced himself, he
smelled cunt. Looking at the two freshly scrubbed beauties, he instantly knew
why his sensitive nostrils had gone on full alert. Dyke Lillith was getting her
rug chewed by baby faced Becky. They may have showered afterwards, but the
leather chair retained the delectable aroma perfectly.

	He had his suspicions about why a man-hating, ball-busting dyke would summon
him to her Office in London from Woking. As Smedley set his briefcase on the
floor, he smiled pleasantly.

	Lillith put on her sternest face. She decided to play him a bit. She
gestured him into a secretary's swivel chair in front of her desk. The chair had
been lowered as far as it would go so that Smedley would be forced to look up at
her.

	"Smedley! You haven't been with us that long. How do you like working at the
bank?"

	"I love it! It presents a wealth of opportunities!"

	Sitting slightly behind him on a higher chair, taking notes, Becky rolled
her eyes comically. Always impatient, Lillith decided to stop the foreplay. It
was time to cut his balls off.

	"It's late in the day! Most of the staff have gone home, so I'll cut it
short as I'm sure Rebecca wants to go home as soon as possible."

	Becky smiled pleasantly at this consideration, although privately thinking
that it was just because Lillith was always horny after a good firing and wanted
to cum in her face a few more times. Lillith was magestically stern.

	"You appear to have grasped a few opportunities that you shouldn't have,
Hargreaves! We've had complaints from female customers about sexual harassment!
Very convincing complaints! About you! What do you think we should do about it?"

	Smedley spread his hands in a man-of-the-world gesture guaranteed to
irritate ball-busting dykes. He smiled broadly.

	"Absolutely nothing!"

	Behind him, Becky did some quite elaborate eyeball-rolling. Lillith snorted
derisively.

	"What do you mean by that?"

	Smedley adopted a calm, rational tone as one explaining things to a slightly
retarded child. This also was aimed at ball-busting dykes.

	"It's as simple as the difference between a knife with a metal blade and one
with a ceramic blade!"

	Lillith frowned in annoyance.

	"What???"

	"You and I are very different. If we were knife blades, you would be a metal
blade and I would be a ceramic blade!  A ceramic blade has a sharper edge than
can be achieved with a metal blade. It cuts much more cleanly and keeps its edge
better. Perfect for cutting meat or for surgery!"

	Lillith was deeply sarcastic and dismissive.

	"Fascinating! Nothing to do with sexual harassment, which is your problem
right now. I suggest you deal with it! Focus on the task at hand, Hargreaves!
Knife blades have nothing to do with it!"

	Smedley shook his head gently.

	"I'm afraid they have everything to with it, Lillith darling!"

	Darling!! The man was insane!

	"Quit playing silly bugger, Hargreaves! What are you babbling about?"

	Smedley twirled in his swivel chair. The white, unbelievably sharp ceramic
blade sliced into Becky's upper arm. The ceramic knife was so sharp that Becky
felt nothing as it cut in. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the bright red,
arterial blood spurting from her shoulder. She clamped her hand over the deep
cut as Smedley moved like a cat behind her and held the white blade, dripping
crimson, to her throat. He barked orders at Lillith.

	"Summon security and I'll slice her throat open with one smooth easy stroke!
Then I'll gut you like a slaughterhouse lamb!"

	Lillith's fingers retreated hastily from their proximity to the button under
her desk as Becky whimpered in Smedley's grasp.

	"You can't get away with this!"

	Smedley looked at her pityingly.

	"Lillith, there's a lot you don't know! Trust me!"

	"You're mad!"

	"I'm not even mildly annoyed! Put your hands together behind your chair,
Lillith."

	Maneuvering carefully, his super-sharp blade at Becky's throat, Smedley
opened his briefcase, pulled out a pair of flex cuffs and tightened them around
Lillith's wrists.

	"The only way these can be removed is if they're cut off, so don't even try
getting out of them, Lillith."

	Blood seeped between Becky's fingers as she clutched her bleeding shoulder.

	"Wheel your chair away from the desk, Lillith. I don't want you kicking that
security button. What do we have here?'

	He opened the door to Lillith's private bathroom and shower.

	"Very nice! You wait silent as the tomb while Becky and I go into this cozy
w.c.to deal with her cut!"

	He gestured to a corner of the office that he could see from inside the
bathroom.

	"Push yourself over to that corner there, Lillith. You've been a naughty
girl! Sit facing the corner and think about how you can make good. I don't want
to hear a word out of you. Not a peep!"

	He hustled Becky into the bathroom, leaving the door open so that he could
keep an eye on Lillith. He waved the knife blade in front of Rebecca's terrified
eyes. Her bright red blood dotted the white blade. A ceramic blade is no good in
a knife fight, for it shatters easily, but for carving the meat it can't be
beat. Smedley thought of these charming little encounters as if they were a
chess game. Make the right moves and you don't have to fight.

	"Not a word, Becky!"

	He untucked her blouse and slit it open all the way down the back. The sharp
blade sliced smoothly, effortlessly. One by one, he pulled up her bra straps and
cut them. He pulled out the waistband of her skirt and slit it down the hem. A
slice on either side and her panties were reduced to a whisp of red silk that
Becky was clamp desperately between her thighs. Smedley jerked the whisp of
flimsy fabric from between her shapely legs.

	Rebecca's creamy buns and smooth shaven pussy were joys to behold.
Unfortunately for Becky, this was the moment Lillith decided to bluster.

	"You keep your hands off her!"

	Becky let out a small squeal as he jabbed the blade into her other shoulder.
Smedley spoke reprovingly.

	"Lillith! You made me hurt Rebecca! Tell Lillith to be quiet, Becky!"

	Rebecca's voice was near hysterical.

	"Lillith! Shut the fuck up! He's cutting me every time you open your stupid
mouth!"

	Lillith, who couldn't see what was happening behind her, was terrified into
silence. She hated the feeling of complete helplessness. She liked being the
dominant one. She hated whatever was happening to Rebecca and felt spasms of
guilt and responsibility. If only she had handled this better! She thought hard,
desperately seeking the winning play.

	Smedley spoke softly to Becky, who stood trembling in her stockings and high
heels, clasping the shreds of her blouse and bra to her chest as she clutched
her bleeding upper arms.

	"Becky! I'm going to bandage your arms. You'll have to let go of the blouse
and bra though."

	Rebecca was panting hard. Staring at him with huge, frightened eyes, she
offered no resistance as he tugged away her blouse and bra so he could see all
the goodies. With her pretty pink nipples, big breasted Becky was a delectable
morsel indeed. He taped her upper arms to staunch the bleeding and led her back
out to the office.

	He sat her in the swivel chair that she had occupied earlier. Removing
another pair of flex-cuffs from his open briefcase, he fastened her slim wrists
together behind the back of the chair. He pulled a pair of stockings out of the
briefcase and tied one around each of Rebecca's shapely ankles. He pulled up on
the stockings so that each ankle was pulled up along it's side of the chair and
fastened them to the back.

	He went to the bathroom, picked Becky's silk knickers up off the floor, held
them to his nose and inhaled deeply, savouring the tangy musk. He strode back to
her chair.

	"Open your mouth nice and wide, Becky."

	Becky opened and he stuffed the panties in.

	Smedley took a roll of clear tape from his briefcase.

	"Put your lips tightly together, Becky."

	Becky tightened her lips, holding the remains of her panties inside her
mouth while Smedley pressed the tape against her lips and wrapped the broad
clear tape around her head several times to seal in the goodness.

	"Yum! Yum! Are they nice and tasty, Becky?"

	With Becky nicely wrapped up, he hurried over to Lillith, fuming futilely in
her corner.

	"Let's see what you've got, Lillith."

	Lillith glared at him.

	"Go to hell, you bastard!"

	Smedley looked at her reprovingly.

	"Now what did I say would happen if you emitted the smallest peep, much less
an abusive blast?"

	Rebecca stared in shock at stupid Lillith. She whimpered and squirmed
frantically in her chair as Smedley strode over, knife in hand. Lillith was
horror-stricken.

	"Please! Cut me instead!"

	Rebecca went ballistic, shreiking at fuckhead Lillith to shut up through her
gag.

	"That's two cuts for Becky so far, Lillith. Do you have anything else to
say?"

	Rebecca squealed harshly at her and Lillith shut up. Smedley hefted one of
Becky's boobs. His eyes gleamed.

	"Where should I cut, Becky? Two cuts? One for each tit?"

	Becky whimpered pleadingly. He fingered her cuntlips.

	"One for each cuntlip?"

	Becky shook her head violently.

	"All right! The tits have it! Don't worry. I'll cut underneath where nobody
will notice!"

	He reached into his briefcase and selected a stiletto, a knife with a sharp
point and a long narrow blade. Becky bounced frantically.

	"Becky! You must hold still or it will be a much bigger cut. If you
struggle, I may cut a whole tit off by mistake!"

	He pinched a plump, pink nipple and lifted her breast high. Becky went
deathly still as he rested the sharp tip of the stiletto blade against the
underside of her breast where it met her chest.

	"If you hold still it won't be a very wide cut, but it will be fairly deep
so that Lillith can learn her lesson of silence and obedience."

	He waited a few beats to allow the bitches to stew a bit and then slowly
inserted the blade into Becky's tit-meat. He wiggled it playfully to help poor
sobbing Becky squeal and snivel beautifully. It also ground  Lillith hard as she
realized how serious a maniac she was faced with. Bright yellow urine spurted
messily from Becky's piss hole soaking the seat of her chair and filling the
room with the stale smell of fresh pee. Smedley was sympathetic.

	"Don't worry, Becky! The cleaning staff is probably quite familiar with
cleaning up bodily fluids from this room!"

	He withdrew the slim blade, pinched her other plump nipple, lifted and went
to work on her other tit. Becky sobbed hard as he worked the blade in. She
gasped as he pulled the blade back out, working the tip agonizingly. Lillith was
biting her lips. Being trapped in a room with an ultra-violent maniac made her
heart feel huge as it hammered painfully in her chest. Smedley seemed to have no
limits.

	Outside, Loretta and Margaret, two Assistant Managers, were leaving for the
day. Walking past the heavy oak door to Lillith's office on the way to the
elevator, they heard Becky's squeals and moans coming distantly through the
thick wood. Margaret was outraged.

	"Those brazen hussies are at it again! They're a disgrace to banking! Making
eyes at each other all day and having a shower together in the middle of the
afternoon! Utterly shameless lesbo sluts."

	Loretta grinned and gave Margaret a wink.

	"You're just jealous! You want a hot little secretary of your own and a
private office to enjoy her in!"

	Margaret simpered and lisped coyly. She batted the air, limp wristed.

	"Abtholutely, dearetht!"

	The two giggled all the way to the elevator.

	Inside Lillith's office, Smedley pressed two bandaids against Rebecca's
bleeding tit slits. Poor Becky was ashen faced and shaking badly. He turned to
Lillith.

	"I think Becky's suffered enough, but it's up to you. I can always slit open
her her big blue eyeballs. Who complained about  the sexual harassment?"

	Lillith was a beaten bitch and she knew it. Shoulders slumped in defeat, she
betrayed his accusers.

	"Shannon and Ashley, the fashion models."

	Smedley smirked.

	"Excellent! I already have a little plan underway for taking care of those
delectable lesbo bitches! They're going to be stars of The Midnight Tour."

	Lillith had no clue as the what The Midnight Tour was, but she was willing
to bet that  Shannon and Ashley would hate it.  Smedley looked at Becky and
Lillith and grinned.

	"As my friend Father Mulcahy would say: it seems to be my job these days to
convert the Lesbyterians to the Whorish faith!"

	He turned his attention to Lillith as Becky seemed to be quaking nicely.

	"Lillith! I'm thinking of cutting you loose! Once I do that, do you think
that you can remove every stitch of clothing without making a peep? If not, I'm
going to have to quit horsing around and get serious with Becky here. Just nod
your head if you think that you can handle it."

	Lillith nodded.

	Smedley cut Lillith's flex-cuffs and sat next to Becky. He put his arm
around her shoulder and licked the tears from her face.

	"Mmmmm! Love the salty taste of a sweating, teary-eyed babe!"

	He squeezed Becky affectionately as Lillith slowly turned her chair around
to face them and stood up.

	"Don't worry, Becky! I'm sure Lillith is going to be fully co-operative and
show us the goodies, instead of doing something stupid and getting you gutted
like a fish! I know you've seen all that she has to offer, but it's the first
time for me. Is she stacked, Becky? Nice big tits? Tight bod?"

	Becky nodded emphatically, obviously eager to see Lillith sweat. Smedley
laughed in delight.

  	"Start the strip show, Lillith! Don't keep us waiting!"

	Silently, Lillith removed her jacket and placed it on the desk. She stepped
out of her high heels and unbuttoned her blouse. She untucked the blouse and
pulled her arms from the sleeves placing the blouse neatly on the desk next to
her navy blue jacket. She took a deep breath and unbuttoned and unzipped her
sharply creased navy blue pants. She peeled them down her long, muscular legs
revealing that, like a lot of executives, Lillith put in some serious time
working out at the health club. Smedley grinned.

	"Wonderful! It's nice to see a woman who keeps good care of herself! Isn't
it Becky?"

	Becky quickly nodded agreement. Pleasing Smedley had become her top
priority. Lillith hesitated. Smedley looked concerned.

	"Uh oh, Becky. It's beginning to look like Lillith's a bit shy in front of a
man. Is she shy with you, Becky?"

	Becky shook her head and glared fiercely at stupid, reluctant Lillith.
Lillith sighed and undid her bra. Big breasts with dark red nipples shimmered
liquidly as she shrugged off her bra and put it on the desk.  She hooked her
fingers inside the elastic waistband and jerked down her panties and pantihose.
She stepped out of them and kicked them aside. She stood, gloriously naked, and
glared defiantly at Smedley. Like Becky, she had the smoothly shaven pussy of
the die-hard fuck-slut.Smedley applauded.

	"Very good! And it keeps poor Becky in one piece. That's good, isn't it
Becky?"

	Becky, hugely relieved that stupid Lillith was doing the right thing for
once, nodded agreement. She wondered what she had ever seen in her. Smedley
looked at his watch. He had places to go and people to meet.

	"I want you pick your panties up off the floor and put them in your mouth,
Lillith."

	Lillith looked outraged, but picked them up and stuffed them in.

	"Sit in the chair and put your hands behind together behind the back."

	Lillith did as she was bid. Another pair of flex-cuffs were fastened to her
wrists and her mouth was taped shut with the clear plastic tape. Another pair of
stockings came out of Smedley's briefcase and her ankles were tied back along
either side and fastened to the back of the chair. Smedley was pleased.

	"Excellent! You two ladies wait here. I'll be right back!"

	Chapter 5 - Meeting of the Board

	The bank's Board of Directors had many eminently respectable citizens on it.
It also had a hard-core centre. Being nicey-nice doesn't make money. You need
the hard core to make the business successful. You need the respectable citizens
as a front for inquisitive government agencies and groups of concerned citizens
and stockholders. This was a meeting of the hard core who, after all, could only
stomach so much of the goodey two-shoes.

	Smedley stood and cleared his throat for attention.

	"Ahem! I know that you've all had concerns about Ms. Hardcastle. I'm happy
to announce that she will be tendering her resignation effective immediately!"

	The hard-core board laughed.

	"Did you take care of her assistant too, Smedley?"

	Smedley grinned.

	"They're both waiting to tender their resignations right now! I'll bring
them in."

	Smedley wheeled in the two nude beauties, still tied to their chairs. The
board members grinned delightedly. Rebecca blushed and squirmed uncomfortably.
Lillith stared defiantly at the board. The Chairman spoke.

	"They don't look like they're going to resign. Ms. Hardcastle looks a tad
disgruntled and defiant, Smedley!"

	Smedley smiled.

	"No problem!"

	He produced his roll of clear tape, wrapped it around their heads and sealed
their nostrils shut. The two beauties immediately began to writhe and struggle.
The board watched with interest as the two lovelies struggled violently, but
futilely. Big breasts bounced and bare buttocks dimpled and danced. Sweat flew
from twitching, fear hardened nipples. Naked thighs quivered and exposed cunts
pumped lewdly as they tried to arch up from their chairs. Deprived of oxygen,
their grimacing, contorted faces turned cyanotic blue.

	Lillith wet herself. The board applauded.

	Smedley kept them struggling to breath for a desperate two minutes. At last,
he addressed the two purple-faced beauties, jerking violently in their chairs,
staring at him frantically with bulging, bloodshot eyes.

	"Feeling fully co-operative?"

	They nodded violently.

	He removed the tape from their nostrils. Their sweating torsos heaved as
they gratefully sucked cool air into their burning lungs. He unwrapped the tape
that sealed their mouths shut.

	"Open!"

	They opened their mouths and the board laughed in delight as Smedley
extracted their saliva soaked panties.

	"Do you want to resign?"

	They made an eager chorus.

	"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

	"Becky! Do you want bend over the table and open your holes for the
directors?"

	"Yes, please! I'd be delighted to!"

	Smedley released Becky. The board members unzipped as she bent over and
touched her nipples to the polished oak table. She turned out to be a real
tightie.

	"Lillith! Do you want to get down on your knees and give blowjobs to the
board members?"

	There was no hesitation.

	"Absolutely! Though I don't have much experience!"

	Smedley was reassuring.

	"Don't worry! Lick hard, suck hard and remember to swallow!"

	The Chairman fed her his dick. Smedley squatted down and talked her through
it. Coached by Smedley, she sucked on the Chairman's heavy knob, licked the
underside of his thick, heavily veined dick and swallowed his bull gravy like a
Royal Navy cabin boy. He patted her on the head and the next board member fed
her his dick.

	"You've made arrangements to handle them, I trust, Smedley?"

	Smedley grinned at the Chairman.

	"Yes, sir! There's a container ship called the Pussy Maru that will be
pulling into the Thames soon. When it leaves for Hamburg, they'll both be on it.
When it arrives in Hamburg, they'll find themselves to be hard-working
attractions in an underground S&M club call Die Singvogel."

	The Chairman was delighted. An old horndog, he continued the conversation as
he spat on his dick to lubricate it and opened Becky's asshole for business.

	"Die Singvogel. The Songbirds. I like that! Excellent, Smedley! Well done,
old chap!"

Section 2 - The South American Connection

	Chapter 1 - A Scoop For Nikki

	Pretty Nikki Bauer trembled with excitement. Back home she was only a cub
reporter writing tactful obituaries about local dignitaries who had, for
example, accidentally strangled themselves during autoerotic nooseplay.
Tactfully avoiding any mention of how the Mayor's dad had been found dead,
purple faced in a closet with his dripping dick clutched tightly in his
stone-cold hand wasn't real reporting in Nikki's opinion. The Mayor owned  the
paper, so any accurate reporting of the local news was out of the question. On
the other hand, her vacation in South America had possibly just given her the
scoop of the year, much bigger than her small-town newpaper. This was the big
time, national exposure.

	
	Lovely Nikki had just witnessed a political assassination. She had taken
picture after picture from the balcony og her hotel while the bodyguards of the
leader of the opposition party fought a losing gunbattle with government troops.
Nikki happily snapped pictures of the poor man being jerked out of his
limousine, lined up against the wall and having his brains blown out next to his
dead bodyguards. She was in seventh heaven. Then one of the soldiers glanced up
at her balcony.

	Hurriedly, Nikki ducked down. Quickly, she removed the film from the camera.
Feeling like a superspy, she ran out into the hall. She rushed down two flights
of stairs and hid the film behind a fire extinguisher. She figured that if she
was caught with the film in the next little while, she could kiss her pretty ass
good-by. She would come back for the film later, once everything had cooled
down. Hot footage like that would be good anytime in the next few months.

	She ran back to her hotel room to grab a few things before she crept out.
She threw them into a bag and stepped once more into the hallway. The bell for
the elevator rang. Certain that the soldier who spotted her had raised the
alarm, she dived into the stairwell ... and ran right into the arms of some
soldiers charging up the self-same stairwell.

	"The lovely senora is going somewhere?"

	A heavily mustacioed captain pushed her, none too gently, back into the
hallway. Nikki thought fast.

	"I was scared by all the noise!"

	Soldiers spilled out of the elevator. The soldier who had seen her pointed
to her and spoke to the captain in rapid-fire spanish.

	"He says that you took some pictures of our little military action."

	Nikki went straight into denial.

	"I wasn't out on the balcony. It didn't sound like a very safe place to be!"

	She looked at the captain in wide-eyed innocence.

	"Besides, I couldn't take any pictures! My camera has no film! I ran out
yesterday."

	She continued ingenuously.

	"What happened out there? It sounded like shooting!"

	The captain was sceptical.

	"I will have to take you to our headquarters for further questioning."

	Nikki noted with satisfaction that the soldiers were ripping her hotel room
apart after discovering that, as she had said, her camera was empty. She just
had to tough it out and she'd be home free!

	Her hands were handcuffed behind her and Nikki was hustled off, protesting
her innocence loudly all the way. She was confident that she could bluff her way
out.

	Chapter 2 - Question Time

	At headquarters, Nikki was pushed into the interrogation room. She was
seated in a hard wooden chair. Everyone, except her, put on sunglasses. They
snapped on the brilliant spotlights, shining them straight into her pretty eyes.
Nikki flinched in the harsh glare as the captain started in.

	"We have learned that you work as a reporter for a newspaper, Miss Bauer!"

	Nikki spoke up, knowing that a good plausible bluff was her only way out. 
She looked suitably scared and put on her patented, beautifully polished, little
miss innocent act.

	"I only write the obituaries! Check it out a bit more and you'll find it's
true! I'm hardly a hotshot reporter. I'm here on vacation. Do you think that
they send the rookie who writes the obits to cover the South American scene?
Hardly!"

	The captain continued. He loved cat and mouse as long as he could be the
cat.

	"You neighbors at the hotel report hearing the door to your hotel room open
and close twice. Where did you go, Miss Bauer?"

	Nikki began to sweat in the harsh glare. She was momentarily disconcerted, a
fact that was not lost on the captain.

	"Uh, it's a bit embarassing to admit but, uh, when the shooting broke outI,
uh, hid in the closet! It was me going into and, later, coming out of the closet
that those helpful neighbors heard!"

	Nikki tried hard not to look pleased with herself. The captain pounced.

	"Your closet has a sliding door, Miss Bauer! It doesn't make the same sound
at all! Your oh-so-helpful neighbors, good citizens all, are certain that it was
your front door. I do not appreciate being lied to! I repeat, where did you go?"

	The perspiring beauty stuck to stout denial. This wasn't quite going like
the movies, where the bad guys in banana republics were always inept, bumbling
fools.

	"I hid in the closet! I didn't go anywhere! Maybe it was some other room's
door opening and closing and they confused it with mine! They MUST have been
fairly distracted with all the shooting! I know that I was!"

	 The captain, a faceless voice behind the blinding lights, spoke sternly. He
turned more spotlights onto the flushed, blinking beauty. The bright lights
rendered her clothing transparent, giving the boys an excellent view of her bra
and panties.

	"It's obvious that you are very confused, Miss Bauer! Your neighbors on both
sides and across the hall all swore, in separate statements, that they heard
your door open and close, then the sound of footsteps running to the stairwell
and the sound of the stairwell door being used. They were all terrified and
listening very carefully indeed. A few minutes later, they heard the same sounds
in reverse. How do you account for this, Miss Bauer?"

	Large sweatstains appeared under Nikki's armpits and on her back. She licked
her lips very nervously indeed. She hadn't bargained on the bad guys being so
thorough and fast in coming up with information.

	"I, uh, ran to the stairwell, but there was no place to hide, so I ran
back!"

	The captain grinned behind the spotlights.

	"Why did you lie before?"

	Nikki felt fear squeeze her heart in it's icy grip.

	"I-I-I thought it would be worse if I told you that I left my room."

	The captain spoke softly to the trembling beauty.

	"Why? Because you hid the film somewhere or gave it to a confederate
somewhere else in the hotel?"

	"I don't know about any film!"

	Suddenly, the spotlights went dark. Nikki blinked, unable to see anything
but spots in front of her eyes. Three female officers stepped uo to her. The
captain explained.

	"We are going to leave the room while the female officers search you for the
film. When the search is over, we will return." 

	Nikki's handcuffs were removed while the men left the room. The three female
officers surrounded her, heavy truncheons in their none-too-ladylike fists. The
short, heavyset matron looked at her with beady black eyes set in a pitted,
acne-scarred face.

	"The captain has been too gentle with you, bitch. Take off your clothes,
senorita. If you are not naked in 30 seconds, we will beat on your face until
you have no teeth left."

	The matron looked at her watch and began counting out loud.

	"One. Two. Three..."

	Hurriedly, Nikki pulled her t-shirt off over her head. She unhooked her bra
and shrugged it off. Her big tits jiggled and quivered as she tugged off her
expensive leather boots.

	"Thirteen. Fourteen..."

	Frantically, Nikki unbuckled her belt, undid the button and unzipped her
blue jeans.

	"Twenty. Twenty-one..."

	She hooked her thumbs inside the elastic waistband of her panties and jerked
them and her jeans down to her ankles.

	"Twenty-four. Twenty-five..."

	Nikki sat down quickly. Desperately, she tugged at her jeans, pulling them
and her panties off.

	"Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine..."

	Nikki peeled off her socks just as the count hit thirty. She sat, termbling
and naked, surrounded by her discarded clothing. The matron made her sit with
her knees pulled up to her chest. Nikki's wrists were tied together in front of
her knees with a wet leather thong that would tighten brutally as it dried. A
metal bar was passed under her knees and over her arms.

	The men came back in, grinning hugely. The captain smiled as everyone drank
in Nikki's glorious nakedness. He thanked the acne-scarred matron and her
heavyset helpers.

	"Muchos gracias, senoritas!"

	Two soldiers grabbed the ends of the bar amd hoisted Nikki into the air. The
ends of the bar were slipped into two deep slots atop two thick poles set in the
concrete floor. Nikki dangled by her knees from the bar, upside down, stark
naked and totally helpless. This position, a favourite in South American torture
chambers, is known as 'the parrot's perch'. It positions the helpless victim
perfectly for a wide variety of techniques designed to encourage the 'parrot' to
speak.

	The soldiers admired her long stem nipples and superb melons, glorious ass,
wrinkled rectum and thick lipped cunt. Her shapely legs and pretty face did not
go entirely un-noticed. Nikki, a delectable morsel, flushed prettily and
squirmed uncomfortably.

	"Please! Don't hurt me!"

	The captain delicately teased one of her long-stemmed nipples between his
fingers. He gently stroked her cuntlips and rubbed her rectum. He ran a
fingernail over the sensitive soles of her feet. He grinned happily and spoke
softly to her, a lover addressing his fuck-toy.

	"Perhaps the lovely senorita would like to tell us all about it. It would be
a shame to damage such beauty."

	Nikki caved in.

	"I hid the film behind a fire extinguisher two floors down from my hotel
room."

	The captain held the film up before her astonished eyes.

	"We know about the film, senorita. The question is whether you are working
for the C.I.A. or the rebels or both."

	Nikki felt like her heart had been ripped out and stomped on as she realized
that she was in way over her head. The soldiers watched eagerly as her sweating,
naked body squirmed and wriggled delectably on the bar on the bar, as frantic
and desperate as a worm that feels the first prick of the fishhook.

	They watched the conflicting emotions ripple across her pretty face as she
tried to come up with something to say that would magically extricate her from
her desperate predicament. The captain was sympathetic.

	"Having trouble thinking up a convincing lie, senorita?"

	"NO!!"

	The captain groped and fondled her intimately. The grinning soldiers watched
as she vainly tried to flinch away from his large squeezing hands and strong,
probing fingers. She gasped out the truth, hot and flushed.

	"P-Please! I'm just a rookie reporter! I write obituaries. I'm on vacation.
I'm not with the C.I.A. or the rebels. I was just really stupid and took some
dumb pictures. You keep them and I've got nothing. Deport me and I'll cause you
no trouble. I'll have no evidence anyway. Nobody would believe me if I did say
anything. I'll never come back or bother you again. I promise. Please believe
me."

	It's seldom that the truth will set you free. The truth alone is seldom good
enough. It must always be accompanied by low cunning and an appeal to everyone's
self-interest before it commands more than a passing glance.

	The watching soldiers smirked as the captain parted Nikki's thick cuntlips
and delicately gripped her little red nubbin of a clit between his dirty
fingernails. Poor naked Nikki whimpered and shuddered uncontrollably.

	"Senorita, you lied to us before. Repeatedly. You are probably lying now,
playing Little Miss Innocent. We would be neglecting our duty if we didn't
squeeze you dry of information in C.I.A. and rebel activities. Matron, prepare
her!"

	The acne-scarred matron stepped forward with her two cruel-eyed, amazonian
helpers. Nikki knew that these women were far more pitiless than the men.

	One of the helpers put on plastic gloves as if she were about to handle
garbage. She reached between Nikki's legs and spread her cuntlips painfully
wide, exposing lots of pink.

	The matron pulled a thick stainless steel rod out of a bucket of ice water,
attached a wire from the electroshock apparatus to one end and slowly,
painfully, inch-by-inch began insinuating it into Nikki's trembling vagina.

	The acne-scarred matron worked it in, brutally twisting and turning the
ice-cold rod while a white faced Nikki shreiked, blubbered and begged. When it
had been inserted as far as possible, the matron pumped it in and out briskly,
to give the pretty American beauty that well-reamed out feeling.

	The cruel-eyed helpers parted Nikki's buttocks to expose her wrinkled brown
rectum. The matron withdrew a nicely chilled, stainless steel rod, slimmer than
the first one, from the bucket of ice water. Nikki shuddered as the matron
rested one icy end of the rod against her anus while she attached a wire to the
other end. She shreiked hysterically as the matron rammed it in.

	Nikki whimpered in terror as her slim gold earrings were removed from her
pierced ears and two copper wires were threaded through  in their place. The
matron twisted and pinched each of Nikki's cherry red, long stem nipples
cruelly. Once they were nicely bruised and swollen, she clamped heavy duty,
alligator-clip electrodes to each one, squeezing hard to make sure that the tiny
teeth bit in deep. A copper wire was attached to the big toe of each of Nikki's
slim shapely feet.

	The captain adjusted the dials of the Zap-Tek Super Shocker 6000,
controlling the voltage, amperage, duration and wave pattern of the shocks. He
had heard that Zap-Tek now marketted a Super Shocker 60,000. He looked forward
to seeing a demo in Hamburg soon.

	Nikki, naked and glistening with sweat, begged and pleaded. The captain
grinned and  gave Nikki a series of short, sharp excruciating jolts, ripping
scream after scream from Nikki's bare, bucking body.

	The electro-shock interrogation continued for hours. Nikki's bloodshot eyes
bulged. Her entire body flushed brick red. She shreiked dementedly.

	At last, it stopped.

	Nikki looked like a madwoman, hair on end, staring insanely, shaking
violently, uncontollably. Foam flecked her luscious lips. Her muscles twitched
and shuddered in painful spasms.

	The acne-scarred matron, deeply satisfied with the experience of sweating a
pretty American, extracted the electrodes with some difficulty from Nikki's
tightly clamped orifices. The wires were removed from her pierced ears. Her
nipples were unclamped from the alligator clips. Her blood-starved hands had
turned dark blue. She sobbed in relief as the leather thong holding them was cut
and then screamed in anguish as feeling returned with a vengeance.

	Nikki's trembling naked body was strapped onto a gurney. She was wheeled to
the infirmary where a helpful Doctor injected her with a muscle relaxant and a
sedative, not from any humanitarian considerations, but merely to keep her alive
for further abuse.

	Chapter 3 - Team Creamed

	Nikki awoke from her sedated, dreamless sleep still strapped to the gurney,
stark naked. She felt like she had been beaten from head to toe. Every muscle in
her young body screamed in agony. The acne scarred matron looked down at her and
smiled gently. She loved sweating the lovely ones.

	"Sleeping Beauty awakes! There are some gentleman who said they wanted to
see you as soon as you woke up. Perhaps your prince has come!"

	Nikki somehow doubted this as she was wheeled over to the barracks. It
looked, actually, like a lot of princes were going to cum as the soldiers
unstrapped her nubile young body from the gurney. An invasive army of hands
delved in the moistness between her legs, squeezing her tits and fondling her
bum as she was carried, screaming and squirming, to the bed. She was pinned on
her back, spread-eagled and fully exposed.

	Knowing, invasive fingers worked cooking oil into her cunt to make her wet
and much more rape-able. A smirking line-up of soldiers waited by the bed for
their crack at the American nookie. Lovely Nikki whimpered in horror as the
first soldier dropped his drawers. She emitted a sharp shreik when he dived
between her legs, burrowing like a rabid weasel as he rammed eight inches of
stiff gristle into her well-oiled cunt and bunny-fucked her, humping fast and
hard.

	The gang bang continued, brutally fast and furious. As soon as one finished
reaming her, the next dived on top to replace him.

	Well-oiled or not, Nikki's fuck hole soon burned from all the friction. When
it got too bad, a filthy towel was scrubbed between her legs to clean up some of
the sticky mess as she was pumped full of scum by one soldier after another.

	Nobody likes fucking a zoned out zombie. A few simple techniques sufficed to
keep lovely Nikki lively during the entire gang bang. Periodically, a fist would
be hammered into her diaphragm. For the next few rapes, she would be gasping for
air, her lovely torso heaving delightfully, bare breasts scrubbing exciteingly
against her rapists chests. Her nipples were jerked and twisted. Her breasts
were bruised and swollen where strong, brutal fingers had dug in, squeezing and
crushing.

	Lovely Nikki was slapped hard in the face and flipped onto her belly. Her
bouncing bare bum was pinched , slapped and spanked. Intrusive, well-greased
fingers were pumped in and out of her rectum. Too weak to put up any effective
resistance, Nikki opened her ass-hole wide for the greek culture enthusiasts.

	Chapter 4 - Nikki Gets Some Quiet Time

		The Warden of the Felice Navidad Women's Prison, despite a lot of
evidence to the contrary,  liked thinking of himself as a warm-hearted
humanitarian, firm but fair.

	"Let's see how our newest prisoner is handling her time-out before being
accepted into the prison population. It's important for them to have some quiet
time to calm down and contemplate after the excitement of their capture."

	The acne scarred matron nodded agreeably as she opened the door to Nikki's
closet size cell. Stark naked, suspended by her long flowing hair, slim wrists
taped together behind her, dainty ankles taped togetehr, Nikki's beautifully
pedicured toenails just scraped the floor. A broad black elastic band around her
head served as a very effective blindfold. Her lips were wrapped around a ball
gag.

	The small cell smelt strongly of chicken noodle soup, which was simmering on
a hot plate in the corner. Nikki hadn't eaten in a day and a half, but the acne
scarred matron graciously allowed her to smell the soup. A water tap dribbled
noisily into an overflowing can set in a small sink. Nikki had drunk nothing in
a day and a half, but she was graciously allowed to hear the sound of running
water. All she had been allowed to do was hang by her hair in the cell,
blindfolded and gagged, stark naked in the cool cell, shivering and listening to
the water and smelling the delicious soup.

	Goose bumps covered her shivering skin. The luscious lips wrapped around the
ball gag were blue.

	Nikki had tried to hold it in but, at last, had been force to piss herself,
the dark yellow urin running down her shapely legs and forming a puddle at her
feet. Two turds lying on the floor behind her proved that her attempt at bowel
control was no more successful than her attempt at bladder control.

	Nikki whimpered and quivered continuously, a whipped dog. The Warden turned
to the matron as he squeezed Nikki's firm buttocks.

	"Physically, she's a fine specimen! Nice big tits, shapely legs, tight ass,
pretty face. As we can see, the elctroshock hasn't affected her ability to empty
her bowels or bladder, although it may be a bit painful for her. Her nipples are
OK too - nice and erect with the cold. Are you ready to take her down and
indoctrinate her in the firm, but fair ways of our little community of sinners?"

	The acne scarred matron grinned evilly and nodded.

	Chapter  5 - Matron Helps Nikki to Understand

	Strapped spread-eagled on her belly to the spanking table, Nikki's bare
buttocks were raised and positioned nicely for the kiss of the strap. She was
still blindfolded so that she would never know when the strap was about to give
her naked, exposed ass a lick. The matron grabbed Nikki's hair and jerked her
head upright.

	"I suppose if we let you go, you will write up your experiences for your
newspaper!"

	Nikki protested earnestly.

	"No! No! I won't say anything!"

	Nikki jerked and grunted as the strap sliced into her bare bum.

	"Bobody believes that lie, newswoman."

	"Please! I'll do anything you want!"

	Nikki jerked and grunted as the strap licked at her naked thighs.

	Nikki kept trying.

	"W-W-What do you want from me? I've told you everything! You've got the
film, my evidence! What do you want?"

	The matron's response was chilling.

	"I want to hear you scream, newswoman."

	Nikki swallowed hard.

	"OK! You want to hear me scream? I'll scream!"

	Nikki screamed loud.

	"Not good enough!"

	The strap shellacked the cringing soles of her bare feet. Nikki screamed
higher, longer and louder. She screamed with every fibre of her being.

	"Much better, bitch!"

	A shotglass of nice cool water was poured from a pitcher and held to Nikki's
parched lips. Nikki gulped it down eagerly. The matron licked Nikki's ear and
whispered into it.

	"I washed my tampon out in that water."

	Nikki felt sick, but her water-deprived body encouraged her to keep the
filthy water down. She didn't altogether believe her charming hostess either.

	"You want another drink of tampon water?"

	Nikki was parched. She was beaten, raped out and totally exhausted. The
shotglass of water had merely whetted her deep and obsessive thirst, firing it
to new levels. She spoke with pathetically polite eagerness.

	"Yes, please, ma'am!"

	"You don't mind if I spit in it first?"

	Nikki was as completely broken as a bitch could be.

	"I would be honoured if you spat in my drink first, ma'am!"

	Nikki heard the sound of a nice phlegmy gob spat into water. She eagerly
gulped down the shotglass of sticky wetness.

	Nikki felt strong fingers delving between her legs, opening her bruised and
swollen cuntlips wide to expose the depths of her pink passage.

	"I find that a well-greased broomstick handle helps to loosen up the
haughtiest, snottiest bitch. It rams home the realization that she's just a
piece of dog vomit."

	Nikki gasped as the broomstick handle penetrated her quivering quim as
deeply as possible. Nikki cursed, swore and struggled futilely as she
experienced rape at the hands of a knowledgeable woman. The acne scarred matron
kept pumping it in and out, twisting it around inside her until Nikki began
sobbing brokenly. She jerked it from Nikki's fuckhole, which was burning
fiercely between her legs once more.

	The matron spoke softly, evilly to the blubbering bare-assed beauty.

	"Now for lesson number two!"

	Cool strong hands were laid on Nikki bare buttocks, parting her cheeks and
exposing her wrinkled rectum. The matron rested the end of the greased
broomstick handle against her shit chute. Nikki screamed and begged for mercy.

	The pressure on the brromstick was increased gradually until it slid
smoothly inside her. Nikki bawled hard as she was ass-raped enthusiastically by
the brutal matron.

	Chapter 6 - Warden's Pet

	Dressed in gleaming black high heels, black stockings, black elbow length
gloves with the fingers removed and nothing else, Nikki stood in one of a row of
steel cages mounted on the wall of the Warden's office. She masturbated and
fingered herself continuously, groaning in ecstacy as she had been trained to
do. She slipped her fingers in and out of her wet, young cunt and her asshole
shamelessly, licking her lips and smiling prettily, eyes glazed in pleasure.

	The Warden, the matron and the captain of the guard watched her sweating,
writhing nakedness idly as they discussed prison business. The other cages were
filled with groaning, masturbating muffins as well. The Warden called this his
"bird collection". The cream of the quims in the prison population had been
skimmed off and 'persuaded' to perform shamelessly for him and his friends.
Their families had been informed of their premature 'deaths' due to a variety of
'accidents'. They were completely disposable.

	Their every waking moment was taken up with some sexually oriented training
or performance. Their minds were kept firmly focussed on what was between their
shapely legs. They wrote diaries of their erotic experiences, analysed their
performances with a view to improving them, made obscene little videos. They
practised in front of mirrors and with dildoes.

	"Feeding time!"

	The lewdly performing songbirds were released from their cages. The bitches
dropped to their knees in front of the row of doggy bowls They parted their
thighs and, with eager fingers, masturbated naked on their knees, fingering
their nipples lewdly while they licked their yummy gruel from the bowls. The
Captain grinned.

	"The Pussy Maru has just come through the Panama canal. We should be able to
ship these songbirds to Hamburg in time for the Frauleinschlachtfest!"

	The matron grinned evilly as they watched the lewdly squirming row of
slurping sluts and smelt the sweat and cuntjuice.

	"We work hard! We deserve a little vacation in Hamburg! So much to see! So
much to learn!"

	Section 3 - The Canadian Connection

	Chapter 1 - Snot Nose Versus Hard Nose

	Exquisite Lori looked down her elegant nose at the snatch-peddlers as she
coolly sauntered along window-shopping. Yonge Street was the main street of
Toronto and supposedly the longest main street in the world as it ran all the
way up to North Bay without interruption. The longest main street in the world
has ,of course, a generous share of guttersluts and most of them are in the
Toronto part.

	Lori, rich from birth and educated abroad in the finest boarding schools,
had nothing but contempt for the vent-renters around her. One of them bumped
into her. She addressed the whore disdainfully.

	"Darling, if you could keep your slimy, diseased body to yourself, I would
be most grateful!"

	The leather clad flatbacker stared at her viciously and flipped her the
finger.

	"Up yours, bitch!"

	Lori directed her glance significantly at two police officers standing at
the corner eyeing her and the whore with a policeman's instinct for trouble
brewing. She adopted the tone of smug insolence that comes so easily to those
born with a silver spoon in their smart mouths.

	"Nobody likes a filthy garbage can. If you don't keep your hands to
yourself, I'll call the garbage men in blue to remove you. Remember, they're on
my side, not yours!"

	The leather bitch curled her lip sullenly as she began to move on.

	"You'll get yours, snot face!"

	Lori sauntered with studied insoucience to her limousine, feeling that she
had perhaps demeaned herself by even talking to such baggage.  The chauffeur
held the door open and Lori slipped inside. She looked out the window as the
limo pulled out into the traffic and saw the leather bitch staring after her
with raw hatred. Vikki grinned insolently and stuck out her tongue. She loved
putting the lower life forms in their place.

	She sank smugly, obliviously, into the plush seat as the leather bitch
studied the license plate of the departing limo.

	
	Chapter 2 - Trouble In Snotville

	Her expensively shod foot stabbed the gas pedal to the floor. The luxury
sports car roared down the back road, carelessly and arrogantly driven. Her
soft, supple body was dressed superbly in designer clothes. Lori was speeding to
the airport to leave for a very private vacation on a luxury liner leaving from
New York. She was going on a three month cruise unencumbered by wearisome
servants or relatives or anyone but herself. The expensive cruise featured a
delightful assortment of stud meat and Lori was going to help herself
handsomely.

	The engine sputtered and died, out of gas. Lori cursed the chauffeur for
neglecting to fill the tank. It never occured to the haughty young beauty to
blame herself for not looking at the gas gauge. She picked up her cell phone to
summon aid. It was dead. She cursed the maid for not putting it in the charger.
It never ocurred to her that keeping the cell phone in her purse denied the maid
access to the cell phone so that she could put it in the charger. A maid caught
sorting through her purse would, of course, be fired instantly. The help
couldn't win with Lori.

	Making a mental note to ream out the maid and give the chauffeur hell, she
got out of the sports car and prepared to walk the five miles to the main road.
She pulled her politically incorrect mink stole around her creamy smooth
shoulders and set off.

	Ontario, Canada has become a big time haven for biker gangs. The thunder of
motorcycles behind her captured Lori's attention instantly. Before she could
react, they were circling her, popping wheelies and gunning their engines. One
of them ripped away her purse as he roared past. Canada is the second largest
country in the world with a small population. As a consequence, it has lots of
long, lonely roads and this was one of them. Great for undetected speeding. Bad
for breakdowns.

	Lori had never before been up close and personal with a motorcycle gang.
With a chill, she recognized the leather bitch that she had insulted the day
before riding behind the biggest, meanest, ugliest bastard she had ever seen.
Toecutter stopped his motorcycle in front of Lori and tossed a question to his
bitch.

	"This the one?"

	The leather bitch nodded, her hard face a study in cruel delight.

	"That's her!"

	He spoke directly to Lori, his voice a harsh, satanic croak.

	"You insulted my woman, cunt."

	Lori licked her lips very nervously indeed. She began apologizing as
earnestly as she knew how. Unfortunately, apologies were not her strong point.

	"I'm very sorry, sir! It was a big mistake and I really regret offending
her. It won't ever happen again...er...sir."

	Toecutter spat at her feet. He looked her up and down, eye-raping her with
his steel-cutting stare.

	"That's not good enough, snotfucker."
	
	Lori swallowed hard.

	"What do you want?"

	The leather bitch licked Toecutter's ear and whispered into it. He grunted.

	"The mink stole, for starters. What sort of shitbrain wears a mink stole for
a walk in the country?"

	"You're absolutely right...er...sir!"

	Lori handed over her stole. The leather bitch wrapped Lori's stole around
her shoulders.

 	Lori stood, feeling stupid and deeply vulnerable in her high heels and snug,
strapless dress.  The leather bitch licked her glossy red lips, crushed her
breasts against Toecutter's braod aback and whispered her next delightful
suggestion. Toecutter nodded.

	Watching Toecutter and his bitch intently, wishing that she could read lips,
lovely Lori never heard the biker who stepped up behind her. He grabbed her
elbows and jerked them together behind her back, forcing her ample chest up and
out. Vikki squirmed fruitlessly in his iron grip. All she succeeded in doing was
jiggling her tits.

	The leather bitch dismounted and casually strolled behind Lori. With studied
insolence, she unhooked and slowly unzipped Lori's dress. The bikers hooted and
whistled appreciatively. She stood in front of Lori, looked her straight in the
eye and, in one violent movement, yanked Lori's dress down to her ankles.

	Clad only in a half-cup bra, panties and shiny black high heels, Lori was
manhandled into a sidecar. As it roared off with Lori frantically hanging on,
the leather bitch picked up Lori's dress and threw it in the ditch.

	Several bikers were busy siphoning gas into Lori's sports car so that it
could be driven to the chop shop and profitably re-cycled.

	The leather bitch straddled the bike and snugged up to Toecutter's awesome
bulk, licking him wetly behind the ear. Knowing that Toecutter was much more
vicious when horned up, her fingers skilfully fondled his erection, keeping him
hard and cruel, just the way she liked him. He popped a wheelie. The leather
bitch hung on tight. She moved her hips back and leant forward to better feel
the massive hog vibrating between her legs as they sped away in a thunderous,
clit-shaking fortissimo.

	
	Chapter 3 - The Mud Pit

	There are lots of lonely, unsupervised paces in rural Canada. Lori stood
quaking beside the mud pit. The leather bitch made the introductions.

	"Hi, snot face. Yesterday, you made some remark about my slimy body. This is
Big Bertha. She likes sliming pretty little girls. You hear of Ghostbusters?
She's a Cuntbuster."

	The bikers guffawed loudly. The leather bitch stepped nimbly out of the way.
Big Bertha gave Lori a big, gap-toothed grin. Lori was trapped between her and
the mud pit.

	Lori tried to run past Big Bertha. Big Bertha snagged her easily and clamped
a headlock on her. She began backing Lori towards the mud pit.

	Lori struggled furiously. Her small fists pummeled Big Bertha's massive bulk
uselessly. She might as well have punched a rock. Slowly, playfully Big Bertha
backed her up to the very edge of the mud pit. Having an eye for the dramatic
moment and mugging for the crowd, she paused. She looked down at Lori's hot,
straining body.

	"Let's see you flash your headlights, snot face."

	Lori's half cup bra unhooked from the front. Big Bertha reached under,
effortlessly brushed aside Lori's frantically clutching fingers, unhooked the
bra and ripped it off. She released the headlock, spun Lori around and, standing
behind her, got Lori in a full nelson. Lori's big bare tits jiggled wildly for
the crowd. The bikers applauded and hooted enthusiastically.

	Bertha began slowly forcing Lori down until she was squatting in her high
heels at the very edge of the mud pit. She released Lori from the full nelson,
wrapped one of her massive mitts in Lori's long flowing hair and clamped her
other massive mitt between Lori's legs.

	Gripping the delectable Lori firmly by the hair and crotch, Bertha hoisted
her up and began swinging her out over the mud pit and back again. Lori squealed
and squirmed. All she succeeded in doing was kicking off her high heels. They
disappeared into the ooze. Big Bertha carefully lowered Lori in the mud pit
until she was on all fours in about a foot of mud.

	She released Lori's crotch and gripped Lori's head with both hands. Slowly
but surely, she forced Lori's pretty, patrician face towards the mud. Lori
resisted desperately, her dangling breasts quivering with the effort, unwilling
to feel the slime kiss her lips.

	Lori's nipples had shrivelled to hard little acorns in the cool outdoors.
Her tight nipples dipped into the mud. Her face was so close to the mud that she
could almost taste it. She could certainly smell it. With the back of Lori's
head firmly clamped in one massive mitt, Big Bertha reached under and began
massaging the cold muck onto Lori's big bare boobs. The bikers sniggered
appreciatively. Frantically, Lori grabbed grabbed at Bertha's fingers gently
milking her shiveringly erect nipple. It was a mistake.

	She lost her balance and Bertha shoved her face and trembling tits into the
muck. Big B. wrapped her hand in Lori's hair and pulled her out long enough for
her to take an enchantingly deep breath. She pushed Lori back under.

	Lori tensed and strained mightily to get her head out of the mud. Big Bertha
held her under effortlessly with one hand. Her other hand pulled Lori's panties
down her thighs, exposing her bare buttocks and chuff box to an admiring and
very vocal audience.

	Everything quivered nicely as Lori felt Big B.'s muddy fingers stroking her
cuntlips and clitorizing her. She felt Big B. fingering her anus and panicked
completely.

	Bertha pulled Lori's muck coated head out and allowed her to gasp and choke
and bounce her big boobs prettily for the boys and bitches. She pushed Lori
under again.

	With her head under the sludge and her rump in the air, Vikki's most private
parts were completely exposed. Bertha dipped her fuck finger in the mud,
liberally coating it with ooze. She wormed it into Lori's fuck hole. The mud
bubbled around Lori's buried head. The leather bitch laughed long and loud.

	Lori's slime-covered face was allowed up once more to sputter, choke and
cough hoarsely. As the cheering bikers watched Lori's jumbo jugs shake and
tremble violently with each deep, shuddering breath, Bertha made an
announcement.

	"For my next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience!"

	The leather bitch pranced forward, smirking evilly. Big Bertha whispered
into her ear. The leather bitch nodded and laughed wickedly. Lori parted her
lips to say something. Big Bertha plunged her head back into the sludge.

	The leather bitch bent over, graped each of Lori's trembling ass cheeks and
prised them apart, exposing her shit hole. Bertha dipped her fuck finger into
the mud. The crowd began applauding sardonically.

	Slowly and powerfully, Bertha wormed her fat, slimy digit into Lori's back
passage. The mud burbled violently around Lori's head. Bertha pumped her finger
in and out lewdly. Lori's bare belly worked convulsively and her lunch floated
to the surface.

	Once more, Bertha pulled Lori's face from the mud. Once more, Lori's
magnificent super-droopers wobbled wildly as she hacked and sneezed violently.
Big Bertha whispered in the leather bitch's ear. The leather bitch looked at
Lori's mud-caked face and burst out laughing. She went up to Toecutter, who had
been putting away beer in impressive style during the festivities. She whispered
slyly in his ear. Toecutter guffawed loudly and nodded. She announced his
decision.

	"Our illustrious leader has agreed to help clean off this slimy cunt's
face."

	Toecutter waddled over and unzipped his fly. Bertha held Lori's face in
position as Toecutter directed a strong smelling stream of dark yellow beer piss
over Lori's mud-caked features. The mud dropped off, but Lori didn't seem too
pleased about it. Toecutter made his own announcement.

	"Now I'm going to dry off her poor, wet face!"

	He dropped his pants, turned around, bent over and directed a powerful
series of rotten beer farts of awesome stench one inch from Lori's delicately
quivering nostrils. With nothing in her roiling guts, Lori retched drily and
painfully.

	Big Bertha dragged Lori by the hair out of the mud pit. Lori stood numbly at
the side of the mud pit, her sludge soaked panties down around her dainty
ankles. Big B. Jerked Lori over to Toecutter's bike, forcing her to step out of
her panties, and lashed her wrists to the sissy bar. Big B. addressed her fans.

	"Ladies and gentlemen! Bastards and bitches! Pricks and cunts! It's time for
our guest of honour to be pumped full of peckersnot through every available
orifice! She's also going to be instructed in the grand old art of giving head.
You are hereby formally invited to the clubhouse to assist in this haughty,
snotty cunt's education!!"

	Toecutter and his bitch climbed aboard and led Lori at a quick trot down the
road to the biker's clubhouse. Lori's big bare boobs bounced and bobbled
delightfully as she trotted  in shivering, naked misery down the road, the big
bike blowing exhaust in her flinching, fearful face.

	    The bikers roared to a halt outside the clubhouse. Big B. spoke to
mud-caked Lori as she untied her.

	"Nobody likes a filthy cunt. We're going to clean you off."

	Big Bertha got a hose and sprayed a stream of ice cold water over Lori's
goose-pimpled skin. The bikers held her down spread-eagled on the pavement. Bars
of soap, coarse cloths and scrub brushes were produced. Lori's squirming bare
bod was soaped thoughly inside and out. Every square inch of naked flesh was
scrubbed squeaky clean.

	The leather bitch took charge of the douching. Lori bawled like a baby when
the long bristly bottle brushes were plunged into her most intimate orifice and
pumped vigorously.

	Lori was flipped onto her belly. Lori flushed brick red and blubbered
brokenly as the greased enema probe penetrated her rectum and flooded her bowels
with ice cold water. Lori was totally mortified as she shat in front of everyone
and was wiped clean like a baby. She blubbered brokenly.

	Lovely Lori was pushed onto  her back and, once more, her shapely legs were
spread wide. One of the biker babes who was a nurse painfully inserted a
catheter up Lori's piss hole and drained her of urine. Lori felt sick and
degraded as she was lifted and carried to the clubhouse by hard horny hands.

	She was pinned face-down on the floor. Big Bertha squatted down, hooked her
hand in Lori's hair and pulled up. Her other hand held a syringe. Lori's
bloodshot eyes stared dully at the gleaming needle. Big Bertha adopted a tone of
mock concern.

	"We want to make sure that you enjoy the gang bang. Shooting you up with
some joy juice and frying your brains will make you a much better performer.
Dumb cunts are the best fucks!"
	
	This sally was met with a wave of protest from the biker babes.

	"Hey, Bertha, you're giving away all our secrets!"

	"That's 'cause I'm the dumbest cunt of all of ya!"

	"I suppose you think that makes you the best fuck!"

	"Well, duh!"

	Bertha jabbed the needle into Lori's delectable bare bod. It was a strong
dose for a beginner. They watched Lori intently and cheered as a big, sappy grin
spread over her face. Lori was flipped onto her back and her legs spread.
Simpering mindlessly, she began to pull the train.

	One by one, the bikers dropped between her legs and enthusiastically jetted
their power boats into her tunnel of love. Lori pumped big, hairy, smelly bikers
and thin, greasy bikers. A few rested their dripping dicks between her big boobs
and humped away until they sprayed peckersnot into her pretty face. She
maintained an idiot grin through it all as bikers wiped their pricks in her
hair, sprayed cum on her tits and filled her prick pocket until her cunt was
awash with sticky white ooze and her pubic hair encrusted with white crud.

	They stood her up and sandwiched her. She was the meat in a biker sandwich,
sometimes one up her ass and one up her cunt, sometimes two lizards slithering
in her well-slimed cuntpit at once.

	Big Bertha recorded it all for posterity on her video camera.

	At last, everyone had their fill of her. She no longer looked like a high
society rich bitch as she lolled flat on her ass in the corner, legs spread
lewdly, coated in cum. It was in her hair, dribbling down her face, dripping
from her tits. Her cunt and asshole were awash in prick juice. It was even
between her pedicured toes and under her manicured fingernails.

	The leather bitch arched an eyebrow at Toecutter.

	"What do we do with her now?"

	Toecutter grunted.

	"From the tickets and passport that we found in her car, I'd say she was
going on a trip. Why not ship her to the Frauleinschlachtfest in Hamburg? The
Pussy Maru is leaving from Halifax. She can scream her way across the Atlantic
while we take the airplane and see her snuffed in Hamburg. She can keep that
snitch bitch company. They can sing duets together on board the Pussy Maru for
the cameras and then enjoy a truly agonizing finish in Hamburg."

	The leather bitch had some news.

	"I got an e-mail from Smedley Hargreaves. He says that he's arranged some
prime meat for The Midnight Tour in Hamburg."

	Toecutter smirked and did a rather raspy Mr. Burns imitation.

	"Excellent, Smithers!"

	The leather bitch grinned evilly as she watched Big Bertha force some uppers
down Lori's throat to get her back into action for round two.

	"She doesn't look so snooty now, eh?"

	Some of the boys decided to teach Lori penilingus. Grabbed by the hair, she
was jerked up onto her knees. One held a knife under her big bare tits, ready to
slice upwards at the first sign of resistance while another smoothly fed her his
dick. Thus encouraged, they soon had her gobbling dick like an old time Royal
Navy cabin boy.

	She prettily tongue fucked the first penis. Her adams apple worked
convulsively as she swallowed a hot load of bull gravy. The next prick was
slipped between her parted lips. Haggard and exhausted, yet wired and shaking
from all the uppers, Lori started her next knob job. They kept her on oral
service until everyone was all fucked out and her tummy was full of wiggling
spermatozoans.

	Her wrists and elbows were tied tightly behind her forcing her breasts up
and out. Her ankles were tied to either end of a wooden curtain rod, spreading
her legs and exposing her dripping fuck hole and raw, red cuntlips. A ball gag
was popped between her swollen lips and buckled into place.

	Lori was forced into a small cage. There was scarecely room inside the cage
for her to squat with her legs spread obscenely and jiggle her tits. Hands
reached between the bars to grope, squeeze and fondle. The cage was loaded into
the back of a van labelled Down East Meat. The naked snitch bitch in the
adjacent cage groaned as the truck started the trip to Halifax to connect up
with the container ship Pussy Maru.  

	Section 4 - The American Connection

	Chapter 1 - Minette Makes A Withdrawal

	Sweet, innocent Minette wondered if this was her opportunity to escape as
she stepped out of the hearse. She looked down the deserted street. It was the
business district on a Sunday morning. Everything was locked and there was no
one in sight. There was really no place to run and no place to hide on the empty
street. She knew that she only had one chance, so it had to be a perfect
opportunity. This wasn't it. Mistress Karla had spelled it out. If caught, she
would be killed slowly and painfully, while the cameras rolled, capturing every
twitch and shudder. Deeply traumatised, poor Minette had seen Mistress Karla do
terrible things. She had  to have the perfect escape opportunity because she
couldn't fail. As Mistress Karla well knew, perfection is unachievable and so
her deeply fearful Pet would never choose to escape because there was always the
possibility of something going wrong.

	Minette kept moving smoothly to the door of the video store so as not to
irritate the occupant of the hearse. Failing to please Mistress Karla had
consequences.

	The sign on the door said CLOSED. As instructed, Minette raised her knuckles
to the door and rapped out the code knock, the four drumbeats that opened the
Beethoven violin concerto, although airhead Minette didn't know it. Mistress
Karla, steeped in the German traditions of great culture combined with deep
perversion, was a trained classical pianist who could play all 38 Beethoven
piano sonatas by memory as well as the 5 concerti.

	The slim, cadaverous gentleman who answered could have been an undertaker.
With his slicked down black hair, black suit and slight stoop, he certainly
looked the part. He glanced at the hearse and smiled. He only opened the door on
Sunday morning to special customers with special needs. Every four weeks,
Mistress Karla had her Pet Of The Month perform this simple task for her.
Blissfully ignorant of the fact that the Undertaker saw a different minion every
month, Minette needlessly explained her mission.

	"I'm from Mistress Karla. She wants me to buy some special video tapes for
her. She says that you know all about it."

	The Undertaker grinned. He knew Mistress Karla and her methods well indeed.

	"You'll be paying with your personal credit card?"

	"Yes. All my money and possessions are at Mistress Karla's disposal."

	It wasn't a situation that lovely Minette was happy with, but since the
alternative was screaming long and hard in Mistress Karla's torture chamber for
the edification of Mistress Karla's patrons, she had no choice.

	The Undertaker eyed Minette appreciatively. The schoolgirl outfit was quite
fetching. It was one size too small to emphasize her charms and it was obvious
that she was the naughty sort of schoolgirl who didn't wear any underwear. The
Undertaker grinned and laid the videos on the counter.

	"Excellent!!"

	Minette hated her outfit and the reactions it provoked but, again, she had
no choice. Silently, she paid and took the videos. They were in black
containers. The titles were in a dripping blood font (charming titles like
Snuffed Muff and Cheerleader Screamfest). They proudly proclaimed themselves to
be a Yakuza Crimson Dragon Production. Minette ignorantly wondered who Mr.
Yakuza was. Definitely someone she didn't want to meet. As the Undertaker
processed her credit card, she looked at the videos and shuddered delicately.
Minette had no doubt that they were the real thing. When he was done and poor
Minette was rendered appreciably poorer, the Undertaker let her out and locked
the door behind her.

	Minette opened the door to the hearse and respectfully handed the videos to
Mistress Karla. As taught, she adopted a special high-pitched schoolgirl voice.

	"Here' s the videos you wanted, Mistress Karla! I hope they make you happy.
I bought them with my very own money!"

	Mistress Karla nodded serenely, accepting the expensive videos as no less
than her due. She gestured at the passenger seat with the thick, greased dildo
projecting up from it.

	"Sit!"

	Minette's pretty face was taut and pinched as she lifted her pleated skirt.
With a flash of bare buttocks and a small groan, she impaled herself on the cold
slimy rod, shuddering as the rounded head parted her labia and penetrated deep
inside her most initmate orifice. Suppressing her shudders, she smoothed out her
skirt. Mistress Karla was solicitous.

	"Do up your seatbelt, sweetmeat. Be sure to make it nice and tight. We
wouldn't want you falling out in an accident!"

	"Yes, Mistress Karla. Thank you for your concern!"

	Mistress Karla picked up her trademark riding crop and snapped Minette's
nipples sharply as a reward for her insolence. Minette emitted a small squeal of
distress and the black hearse pulled away.


	Chapter 2 - Coffin Run

	The black hearse rolled smoothly along the highway.

	 In the back, stifling inside the coffin, poor naked Minette struggled
futilely against the studded leather straps clamping her down. A butt plug and a
urinary plug prevented any unpleasant accidents and the gag combined with the
heavy coffin prevented any embarassing noise emanating from within.

	Up front, Mistress Karla glanced at her new Pet Of The Month. Young Kitty
was prime. The thigh high boots, tight leather micro-miniskirt, halter top and
black leather vest set off the studded leather choker quite nicely. This, added
to the overdone make-up, gave the young beauty a gutterslut trailer tramp look.

	Mistress Karla periodically gave leatherworkers some interesting challenges.
Modifying Zap-Tek's electro-shock dog collar into a tasteful studded black
leather choker had been one of them. Originally designed for use in disciplining
erring canines, the electric dog collar was triggered by a small, palm-sized
remote control. After the choker had been locked around her throat, a brief,
eyeball-bulging demonstration had young Kitty swearing obedience, once she had
recovered her ability to breath.

	Mistress Karla liked keeping her pets entertained during their trips. She
was delivering Minette to a Mexican pimp who needed a competitor for a
donkey-fucking contest in Juarez. When Minette had been informed of this, she
had a big attack of performance anxiety. Mistress Karla had been re-assuring.

	"Donkey dicks are HUGE, Minette. You've got a nice deep hole. You'll be
perfect. Just what the Mexican pimp is looking for."

	Shortly after, Minette experienced an even deeper anxiety attack that led to
her confinement in Karla's transport coffin. Karla's tales of what
donkey-fucking contests were like kept her coffin-bound contestant struggling
hard. However, young Kitty's attention seemed to be wandering. She was actually
watching the scenery and looking relaxed. The situation cried out for
correction.

	Mistress Karla brought the hearse up behind a truckload of soldiers sitting
sombrely as the truck carried them along the highway. They eyed the hearse with
interest.

	"Kitty, darling, lift up your top and show the soldiers your tits."

	A recent capture, poor, prim Kitty was horror-stricken. She hated being
forced to dress like a whore. An exquisitely pretty girl from a small town, she
was used to making men squirm with desire, teasing them shamelessly, but giving
them nothing except blue balls. She was saving herself for Mister Right, she
would tell them sweetly, a category into which horn-dogs like themselves clearly
did not fall. Life as a small town tease had done nothing to prepare her for the
Mistress Karlas of the world.

	"But you don't let me wear a bra! They'll see everything!"

	Kitty swallowed hard as Mistress Karla picked up the choker's remote control
from the dashboard.

	"Okay! Okay! Look! I'm doing it!"

	 She raised her top. The soldiers hooted and grinned lewdly, elbowing each
other in delight as cocktease Kitty flashed her headlights at them.

	"Kitty, darling, shake your tits for the boys."

	Blushing furiously, she bobbed her bouncers lightly.

	"Come on, Kitty, shake them hard!"

	Beet-red, Kitty shook her bumpers hard. They jiggled like jelly on springs.

	"As I pull out to pass them, I want you to turn around, pull down your skirt
and moon them."

	"Spread your cheeks and press your bare buns up tight against the window so
that they can see your heinie hole, Kitty. Don't worry about getting the window
dirty!"

	"Wiggle it around."

	Kitty wiggled her bum.

	"Bend over a little farther, press your cuntlips against glass and give the
soldiers a lewd little hump."

	Kitty, totally humiliated, did as she was bid, doing a delightfully obscene 
bump and grind. Once they were past the truckload of soldiers, Mistress Karla
looked ahead and grinned.

	"Good! There's a few more truckloads of soldiers ahead! A convoy! Pull down
your top and pull up your skirt. Take a kleenex and get the windex from the
glove compartment. Wipe that brown spot off the window. When I pull up behind
the next truckload, you can do it all over again. Next time you squeeze out a
turd, remember to wipe your bum more carefully!"

	Kitty burned in shame.

	"I'm sorry, Mistress Karla! I'll wipe more carefully in the future!"

	As she positioned the hearse behind the next truck of soldiers, Mistress
Karla gripped the remote and spoke grimly.

	"I've told you once what's required of you. If I have to tell you how one
more time, I'll fry you till your eyeballs pop!"

	By the time they passed the tenth truck of soldiers, young Kitty was certain
that she was a complete fucktoy as did ten truckloads of rock-hard soldiers.
Mistress Karla noted with satisafaction that pinch-faced Kitty was no longer
paying any attention whatsoever to the scenery. Inside the coffin, poor naked
Minette had deluded herself into thinking that one of the straps was getting a
bit loose and, slick with sweat, struggled frantically on.

	Mistress Karla, ever considerate of her charges, pulled into a shaded
roadside nook to check her cargo. She opened the back door and lifted the lid of
the coffin. Minette blinked in the sudden glare. Her nipples sprang erect as the
cool breeze flushed out the hot, sweat-choked air of her coffin. Mistress Karla
looked with satisfaction at her sweaty donkey-fucker.

	"Relax, Minette! They put a metal sheath on the donkey's penis so that it
doesn't split a woman open completely! When you get to Mexico, you'll find that,
where you're going, donkey- fucking contests are even more popular than
cock-fighting. There will be a whole arena of men and women watching you get the
reaming of a lifetime!"

	She slammed the coffin lid shut.

	 	Chapter 3 - One Hand Scratches The Other

	Maria finished fucking the young stud who was definitely not her jealous,
out-of-town husband. She came ecstatically as his pounding love hammer unloaded
copiously. Maria sighed in contentment as her well-muscled fuckmate grinned
hugely and decunted.

	She felt a touch of tristesse, sorry that her noontime pecadillo was
finished and muscle boy had to hurry back from the sleazy motel to lead a
fitness class at the health club. He scurried quickly as he was already late.
Maria, of course, had deliberately teased him on and made him late. She loved
making her men look stupid, like her big-shot, businessman husband who acted
like he owned her. Fucking the stud sure made that assumption look dumb.

	It takes women longer to get dressed and Maria was in no hurry. Loverboy
dove into his clothes, gave her a quick kiss and left.

	Since Maria was in no rush to get anywhere, she was standing in front of the
bathroom mirror brushing her long black hair, clad only in her panties, when the
door to her room burst open and her husband walked in, flanked by two badnews
bull dykes.

	Lovely Maria was startled, but looked archly at her self-important peacock
of a husband. Maria made no attempt to cover up, having long ago decided that
being haughty and bluffing it out was the way to deal with her stupid hubby.

	"Tony! Didn't anyone teach you to knock?"

	Tony, a very well-connected Italian businessman, shut the door quietly. He
seemed very calm. Knowing him to be hot tempered and jealous, his coolness at
discovering his young wife in a sleazy, no-tell motel room that reeked of recent
sex was a bit frightening. Maria, who perhaps did not know her husband as well
as she thought, had never seen him like this. Maria looked at the two hard-faced
diesel dykes nervously.

	"Uh, who are your friends, Tony?"

	Tony pushed aside the rumpled sheets and sat down on the bed, glancing at,
and avoiding, the wet spot. He spoke to her calmly, but firmly, like the owner
of a show dog disappointed in his pet bitch's performance.

	"A man can't air his wife's infidelity before other men. He loses honour if
he does."

	Tony gestured at the two bull dykes.

	"These two women, call them Bambi and Thumper, normally discipline the
whores in a fuck house. Since you are acting like a gutterslut, you will be
disciplined like one."

	Maria quickly tried to shut the bathroom door. The diesel dykes easily
forced the door open. Bambi flipped up the toilet seat. Thumper grabbed Maria by
her long black hair and jack-knifed a knee into her diaphragm. The air whooshed
out of Maria's lungs, leaving her gasping. Behind her, Bambi kicked the back of
Maria's knees, forcing her to kneel in front of the toilet bowl as if she had
drunk too much and was about to talk on The Great White Telephone. Thumper
jammed Maria's head into the bowl, pushing her pretty face under water and
sitting on top of it.

	Bambi pulled down Maria's panties, exposing her smooth, creamy, nicely
dimpled buttocks. She pulled the thin, plastic belt from Maria's dress, which
was lying on the floor, and laced into Maria's bare bum with it. Thin red welts
appeared on Maria's firm young bottom while the toilet water bubbled wildly.

	Thumper jerked Maria's face out of the water and graciously allowed her to
cough and choke for a while. Her head was shoved back under and Bambi shellacked
her quivering buns hard with the thin plastic belt.

	This delightful disciplinary cycle was repeated relentlessly until Maria
passed out. She was revived and frog marched over to her husband. She was forced
to her knees in front of him. Her bare bum blazed an angry red, thick with
aching welts. She wasn't going to be sitting down for a long time. Tony spoke
gently.

	"Have you learned your lesson, darling? You did insist on one of those
charming, old-fashioned ceremonies where you promised to love, honour and obey
me!"

	Maria looked up at him resentfully, like the spoiled bitch she was.

	"Fuck you, you bastard!"

	Instantly, Bambi buried her fist in Maria's diaphragm. Maria gasped for air
like a fresh caught fish flopping in the bottom of the boat. A slow learner, she
was dragged by her long hair back to the toilet bowl for a refresher course.
Thumper dug long strong fingers into Maria's bare belly, brutally squeezing and
kneeding Maria's guts until she vomited messily into the toilet bowl.

	When she had finished yorking up, Maria was hammered once more in the
diaphragm and her lovely, gasping face forced into the swirling vomit. Behind
her, Bambi kicked Maria's legs apart and pinched Maria's clit with strong
fingernails. The vomit and toilet water bubbled violently as Maria shreiked
underwater. Thumper pulled her head up, roughly towelled off her face and
dragged her back to her loving husband.

	Affectionately, Tony cupped her tear-stained, gape-mouthed face in his hands
as Maria tried frantically to breath. Solicitously, he took out a handkerchief
and wiped the vomit and drool from her quivering chin.

	"A beautiful woman like you married to a man like me is a pet, Maria. You
are pampered and cared for. In return, I demand obedience and fidelity. Do you
understand, Maria? If you step out of line again, Bambi and Thumper will be
forced to take much sterner measures with you. They learned their trade in
Hamburg at an underground S&M club called Die Singvogel. You really don't want
to find out how hard it can get for you. They know cruel tricks you've never
dreamed of, Maria."

	Maria looked up at Tony fearfully, her bare boobs heaving as her breath
started to come back.

	"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry, Tony! It won't h-happen again!"

	He tousled her hair fondly.

	"That's a good girl, Maria! And now I have to give you a little souvenir to
remind you of this important turning point in our relationship."

	Bambi and Thumper held her arms firmly as Maria knelt in front of her
husband. He produced a pair of very dark sunglasses from his pocket.

	"I bought these just for you! You'll want to wear these on the way out."

	The diesel dykes smirked knowingly. Maria looked a bit confused, but was
eager to fall in with any of Tony's suggestions.

	"Uh, sure, Tony."

	His fists flashed. Maria's head snapped back twice as he scientifically
hammered a knuckle into first one eye and then the other. Immediately, they
began turning purple and swelling shut. Bambi and Thumper released her arms.
Maria put her hands to her face and sobbed brokenly.

	Tony thanked Bambi and Thumper, slipping them a generous tip and speaking to
them quietly at the door while Maria loudly sobbed her heart out.

	"You tell Mistress Karla that I'll have a couple of packages dropped off
anywhere she wants that she can ship to Hamburg for the Schlachtfest. Prime meat
in perfect condition!"

	The 'packages'  were two starlets that had spurned Toni's advances at a
Hollywood party. Fidelity was only for wives as far as Toni was concerned. The
two snotty starlets had been boldly snatched off the street and were now opening
their holes for the boys in a deserted warehouse to while away the time while
Toni's boys awaited delivery instructions for their two blond 'packages'.

	Bambi smiled pleasantly. It was a scary sight, but Tony handled it
effortlessly.

	"We're just on our way to deliver a message to Mistress Karla. She's been
selected as Pain Master for this year's Frauleinschlachtfest in Hamburg."

	Tony was delighted. 

	"Congratulate Mistress Karl on being selected Pain Master!I look forward to
watching her sweat the bitches!"

	Bambi and Thumper beamed broadly, assuring him that it was a pleasure doing
business with him. Mistress Karla would be in touch soon. They wished him well
and left. Tony turned lovingly to his bride.

	"And now it's time to kiss and make up, my darling!"

	He picked up sobbing Maria and dropped her on the bed, taking care that she
landed smack on top of the wet spot - by now, a rather cold, sodden, slimy wet
spot. Quickly, he stripped off his clothes, revealing a monstrous erection. He
parted her lovely legs and dove in. Maria gasped at the sudden brutal invasion.
Tony grinned down at her as her cunt warmed his cock.

	"It's very important for a pampered pet like you to keep her lord and master
happy! If you don't feel like it, I can always ask Bambi and Thumper to come
over and give you a little coaching. I hope that you're going to focus on being
a real little performer. If not, you won't survive the divorce proceedings,
Judges Bambi and Thumper presiding!"

	He pumped her long and hard, holding himself back from orgasm several times,
to make her work for it. Desperately, Maria pumped back, squirming her bare bod
up against his hairy masculinity, whispering lusty encouragement breathily in
his ear, trying very hard to please.

	At last, he came deep inside her. She faked a simultaneous orgasm as
convincingly as she knew how, as befits a  deeply fearful, thoroughly cowed
young wife sporting two shiners and an aching bum.

	Tony sighed happily in complete marital bliss. This was how it was supposed
to be. He decunted. She yelped as he slapped her sore rump playfully.

	"You go home and give the cook the day off. You make me a nice dinner for
when I get home. A woman should cook for her husband on occasion. You complain
to anyone about the way I treat you and I'll arrange for Bambi and Thumper to
show you a few of the tricks they learned in that Hamburg house of pain. You try
to run away, I'll have you hunted down like an animal. You betray me, I'll have
your pretty face squirted with lighter fluid and lit up so that no one will want
you ever again. Understand?"

	Maria nodded.

	"Tony?"

	"Yes?"

	Her bowels quaking, young Maria spoke as earnestly as she knew how.

	"I love you and I'm really, really sorry."

	 	Chapter 4 - Sixty-Niners

	Lisa liked the taste of sperm. Frank liked the taste and smell of a hot
cunt. Glistening faces buried in each other's crotch, they licked, sucked and
swallowed greedily. After a long, juicy session they lay back, sated. Lisa
groaned ecstatically.

	"John?"

	Nobody has ever said that Marketing Reps were honest and tonight Frank was
answering to John.

	"Yes, sweetmeat?"

	"Um, do I have to do anyone else to get this job?"

	Frank loved California, land of the beautiful, totally amoral bimbo.

	"Just the geeky Doctor that runs the research department!"

	Lisa jiggled her melons.

	"Does he like big tits?"

	"He loves 'em!"

	She pumped her hips lewdly.

	"Does he like a snapping pussy?"

	"You bet!"

	She ran her wet, pink tongue sugestively over her ruby lips.

	"Does he like having his dick sucked?"

	"He wouldn't be disappointed if you offered!"

	She lifted her glorious ass and flexed her buttcheeks.

	"Does he like tight buns?"

	"When he sees yours, he will be totally enchanted!"

	"I actually like it up the ass every now and again. Do you think he might be
interested?"

	"I bet you could persuade him!"

	She smirked.

	"I guess that's OK, then! What's he look like?"

	"Typical geek. Short, bald, thick glasses, face like a poached egg, white
lab coat. He has a feature or two that you'll really like."

	Her big boobs bounced delightfully as she laughed and arched an inquisitive
eyebrow at him.

	"Like what?"

	"Long, thick dick. Huge hairy balls."

	Lisa sniggered. She looked at Frank a bit suspiciously. A very pretty bimbo,
she'd been lied to before. Lots of times.

	"John, let me get this straight. I'll make huge bucks as this guy's
assistant. I don't have to do anything except stand there and look pretty,
because this guy's a geek and wants a real racehorse to show off to everyone so
they know that he's made it bigtime? Other than that, all I have to do is fuck
the guy with the thick dick and monster balls, but only during office hours?"

	Frank laughed.

	"That's right!"

	"I don't have to live with him?"

	"No way!"

	"I don't have to date him outside of office hours?"

	"Nope!"

	"I don't have to understand his geeky research?"

	"Not at all! You refer all questions to him."

	"So what does this company do, John?"

	Frank was reasonably honest about this. After all, she was going to see the
company facilities and all.

	"The company is called Zap-Tek. We make electronic weaponry that we sell
world-wide. The guy that you'll be assistant to, he designs and tests it."

	Lovely Lisa was a bit dubious.

	"Electronics?"

	Frank was reassuring.

	"Don't worry! You're a drop dead gorgeous babe! Nobody expects you to know
anything! Not that anybody really understands electronics anyway! Just tell them
that it's easy to operate. Electronics is like magic. Press the button and it
works. If it doesn't work, check to see if it's plugged in or needs new
batteries. If anybody asks you a technical question, just refer them to the good
Doctor! He loves that stuff!"

	Lisa was relieved.

	"Well. That sounds all right. The weaponry part sounds sort of cool!"

	Frank believed in striking while the cunt was hot.

	"Why don't we check out of the motel and go to the lab right now to meet
your future boss? He's always working late! Don't worry! You won't have to! It's
just nine to five for you.  After you meet him, you'll know that the job's right
for you. He's a really interesting guy!"

	"With a big dick, huge hairy balls and a face like a poached egg?"

	Frank grinned.

	"Exactly!"

	Lisa shrugged.

	"Sure, why not?"

	A short while later, a big grin on her pretty face, Lisa was buttoning up
her blouse as she stepped out of Dr. Mandro's office at Zap-Tek. She batted her
long eyelashes at Frank, who had been waiting patiently in the reception area.
She eyed Dr. Mandro's bulging crotch as he slipped on his white lab coat.

	"He's everything you said he was and more!"

	Frank smiled and winked over her head at Dr. Mandro.

	"Well, since you two have evidently hit it off so well, let's show her the
facilities. The test lab is fascinating."

	"Full of electronic toys for electronic boys, I suppose!"

	Dr. Mandro laughed as he put an arm around her shoulders and opened the
heavy steel door.

	"Exactly, Lisa! You'll find that working here is a real scream!"


	Chapter 5 - Pain Master

	Mistress Karla read the unencrypted internet message that Bambi had handed
her and her face broke into a huge grin.

	Kitty knelt, clad only in her panties with her head on the executioner's
block. Her hands were clamped to either side of the chopping block to hold her
neck in position. She figured that if Mistress Karla was happy, someone was
going to be in deep shit.

	Kitty, although still underestimating the depths of Karla's depravity, was
almost right. It was just a matter of scale. Instead of just one, a whole
boatload of beauties were already in deep shit and Mistress Karla was being
given the opportunity to bury them all a lot deeper. Karla shared her good news
with the crew.

	"Die Singvogel has invited me to be the Pain Master at the
Frauleinschlachtfest in Hamburg!"

	The crew applauded. Mistress Karla knew how to sweat a bitch nicely.
Ex-patriate Karla wanted to see her Motherland once more. She missed Hamburg
every now and again. Being the Pain Master meant that Karla would ensure that
the Frauleinschlachtfest was the finest snuff show possible. The crew made
mental notes to attend.

	Karla got back to the business of directing the film. The cameramen were
ready. Kitty was shaking badly as the powerfully built, hooded executioner,
stripped to the waist, stepped into position next to her. Kitty was white-faced
with fear. Her life with Mistress Karla was pure hell. Mistress Karla gave last
minute instructions to her quaking star.

	"I shouldn't have to tell you again! Point your toes, Kitty. A bitch always
points her toes."

	Kitty pointed her toes prettily. The consequences of displeasing Karla
didn't bear thinking about. If Karla had tired of her and was going to have her
head chopped off, co-operating fully was her best option. Pretty Kitty didn't
want to die, but she didn't want to spend the rest of her life screaming her
lungs out either.

	"Be a good cunt and spread your legs, Kitty. Give us a nice crotch shot."

	Kitty spread them, nice and wide the way Karla liked.

	"Hold your head up a bit so that everyone can see your face, Kitty."

	Kitty raised her head and found herself staring into a camera lens. Karla
addressed the executioner.

	"How's the ax, Gunter?"

	Gunter hefted the massive ax.

	"It's got good weight. The blade's nice and sharp. It balances well and has
a good feel to it. Quality workmanship!"

	Poor Kitty couldn't stop shaking. Her bare tits, hanging down, quivered
delectably.

	"OK! Roll 'em!"

	The cameramen circled and captured Kitty's trembling tits and quaking
thighs. Karla was encouraging.

	"It's okay to beg, Kitty."

	Kittys voice squeaked and broke as she started to plead for her life.

	"P-P-Please don't kill me. I give great french! I give great head! I give
great muff! I have a tight pussy. I have a tight asshole. You can grope and
fondle me all you want! You can squirt cum in my face and over my tits. If I get
pregnant, just vacuum me out!"

	Kitty's pretty face was a mass of nervous tics and twitches as the kneeling
nude offered everything and anything. The executioner was contemptuous.

	"Not good enough!"

	He raised the heavy ax high as poor Kitty gibbered hysterically. The huge
blade sliced down, powered by Gunter's massive muscles. It thudded into the
executioner's block. Kitty's body jerked violently and she unloaded in her
panties. Karla clapped.

	"Excellent!"

	The executioner pulled the ax from the block an inch from Kittys ashen face.
He had missed completely. Karla wanted a mock execution to warm Kitty up for the
main event. The cameras continued to roll as Kitty threw up, puking prettily for
the cameras. When Kitty had finished yorking up her toenails, Karla got back to
business.

	"OK, Kitty. We're going to unclamp you. Show your gratitude to the
executioner."

	Kitty's wrists were released. Gunter unzipped. She knelt before him, her
white panties sagging under their brown load. She encircled the base of his
stiff dick with her fingers, licked up the glistening drop of pre-cum and sucked
his gnarled knob while pumping with her hand. It didn't take him long. Gunter
pulled out and sprayed a heavy load of oyster juice into Kitty's pretty face.

	"Lose the panties and wipe your bum, Kitty."

	Kitty was handed a wet wipe. She pulled down her sagging panties, stepped
out of them and dropped them in the trash. She wiped herself clean with the wet
wipes.

	"Okay! Let's try again, Kitty."

	Kitty knelt. Her wrists were clamped to either side of the chopping block.
She held up her head, face dripping with thick scummy wads of cum, and spread
her legs wide, exposing herself lewdly for the cameras.

	"Prep her!"

	Kitty gasped as a tube was forced up her piss hole and her bladder was
pumped full of piss generously donated earlier by Gunter. She groaned as the
enema probe probe was inserted and her bowels filled to bursting.

	It was always bad news when Karla was warmly encouraging.

	"Hold it all in as best you can, Kitty dear."

	She nodded at Gunter. The heavy ax blade was raised high. Gunter flexed his
massive muscles and the blade sliced downwards hard.

	Kitty exploded in a three way spray as her head tumbled into the basket.
Blood spurted from her neck, flooding the ax blade in red as it buried itself in
the chopping block between her twitching shoulders. Shit firehosed out her
asshole. Urine sprayed messily from her crotch.

	Gunter reached into the basket, gripped her by the hair and held up Kitty's
severed head for the cameras. Kitty's beautifully coiffed and carefully made-up
head was still alive. Her lips mouthed soundless obscenities and her light blue
eyes blinked several times, frantically staring at her jerking nude body pumping
her life's blood out the stump of her neck in powerful heartbeat squirts.

	Several tears trickled down her cheeks before Kitty's lights went out
completely, nobody home.  	  



	Chapter 6 - Lab Rat

	Mistress Karla introduced her friends from Hamburg to Frank.

	"I'm proud to have been selected as Pain Master for the Schlachtfest! I
think Frank and his company have a lot to offer. Frank's charming little demo
will speak for itself."

	Freshly arrived from Hamburg, the perverts who ran Die Singvogel S&M Club
had coffee and croissants before the morning demo, what Frank was calling "a
taste of the Schlactfest." Leisurely, they settled down and were introduced to
Dr. Mandro.

	"Dr. Mandro's father was one of the German rocket scientists who went far
out of their way to surrender themselves and their equipment to the Americans
rather than the Russians at the end of World War II. He's carried on the proud
traditions of Nazi Experimentation. He's also the genius behind our Sweaty Babe
line of dungeon toys."

	Dr. Mandro blushed modestly.

	"Of course, the full line of our stun and electro-shock technology will be
demonstrated at the Frauleinschlactfest in Hamburg, but this is just to give you
a taste so you know that you and your international clientel will not be
disappointed. Your membership exactly fits our preferred customer profile! While
we donate the use of our technology for free to the Frauleinschlachtfest, we
expect to make a killing, so to speak, once your members see what our technology
can do for them! Dr. Mandro will also be demo'ing his Sweaty Babe Dungeon Toys
at the Frauleinschachtfest. You provide the babes. He'll sweat them good! Dr.
Mandro has generously volunteered his personal assistant for today's demo of our
main line of electric stun technology. It will also demonstrate Zap-Tek's
commitment to you people!"     	Lovely Lisa made begging noises into her gag as
Dr. Mandro pinned the electrodes to her naked body. Wires led from the
electrodes to the electroshock console, controlled from Dr. Mandro's laptop. The
scientist worked quickly and skilfully as he pinned electrodes to the soles of
her pretty feet, the backs of her knees and her inner thighs as well as the top,
bottom and sides of her taut bare belly. She whimpered as he pinned them over
her kidneys. He pierced her nipples. She shreiked as he jabbed a long metal
skewer sideways through the base of each breast. Lisa squealed as he pinned
electrodes to her middle finger, inner elbows and armpits. Her ears, tongue and
neck muscles were wired as well.

	While Dr. Mandro connected up babe-a-licious Lisa, Frank kept up a stream of
informative chatter.

	"You'll notice that the chair is bolted to the floor to hold the victim in
place during the hard, violent exercise session. Also note that every surface of
the chair is wrapped in black electrical tape so that the only current is
transmitted by the electrodes and not drained off by the chair. This guarantees
that the current will go from sensitive spot to sensitive spot in a controlled
way to produce the maximum electro-convulsive effect."

	Dr. Mandro delved between Lisa's parted thighs to exploit an area rich in
sensitive nerve endings. The chair's seat was like a toilet seat, allowing full
access to her most private openings. Lisa moaned as his long fingers burrowed
deep into her cunt to connect up her g-spot and cervix. She squealed in deep
distress as he twisted hard to bury the long corkscrew anal and piss-hole
electrodes deep inside her most intimate orifices. Lisa sobbed as her inner and
outer labia were pinned with electrodes.

	While Dr. Mandro beavered away, Frank continued his patter.  

	"You'll notice that he's pinning the electrodes to her, instead of just
sticking them on. That's because the skin resists electrical current. If you
pierce the skin it makes for a direct, much juicier, contact that delivers a lot
more zap straight to the muscles and nerves."

	The American marketting Rep surveyed the panting beauty critically.

	"There! I think that does it. Let's see if everything works."

	The blond beauty screamed into her gag. Lisa's sweat slick, nude body arched
violently against the restraining straps of the chair as the electric jolt fried
her hard. Frank grinned and did his Baron Frankenstein imitation.

	"IT'S ALIVE!!!"

	The perverts at the table laughed genially. A pert brunette in a french maid
outfit delivered a round of drinks to the people at the U-shaped, plexiglas
table surrounding Lisa's heavy wooden chair. Her panting, naked body sat facing
Frank at the centre of the U. Dr. Mandro ran the electroshock sequences from his
laptop computer as beautiful Lisa bounced, jiggled and squealed.

	Frank was justifiably proud of his country's accomplishments.

	"America is a world leader in electroshock/stun technology! We ship to
regimes all over the world. When the South African police spray a crowd of
protesters with water cannons and then wade in to the soaked crowd applying
electroshock batons to the protesters' genitals, it's American technology
they're using. If our country forbids us to export shock batons to a country, we
simply route the shipment through a country that does! Our stun technology is
used by regimes around the world. We ship to the Middle East, Africa, Latin
America and Asia. We also farm out the manufacturing to countries that have very
loose or non-existent export restrictions like Mexico, Russia and Taiwan."

	His largely German audience was impressed. They took a sip from their beer
steins and eyed the sweating Lisa  with satisfaction. They all wanted to see the
bitch fried hard as proof that Zap-Tek was willing to go all the way and wasn't
part of some stupid sting operation. Frank continued the spiel to his fascinated
audience while Lisa screamed until the snot ran from her nose.

	After that, she screamed some more.

	"Even at home in the good ole USA, when a prisoner with something to say in
his own defense appears in court, he's often wearing an 50,000 volt electroshock
belt with battery pack under his baggy prison uniform. The spectators can't see
it, but if he offends the judge or prosecutors in any way, he can be zapped in
the kidneys with an eight second jolt triggered by a remote control from up to
300 feet away. Here, we'll show you what it looks like!"

	Dr. Mandro triggered the sequence. Lisa grimaced and went rigid as a board.
After her eight second electronic workout, Lisa was pasty faced and panting
hard. Grinning hugely, Frank continued.

	"It's actually not one long 50,000 volt jolt. It's a carefully timed series
of milIisecond long shocks that cause the muscles to go into spasm. As you can
see, she was as quiet as a mouse while the discipline was being administered.
Afterwards, you can see the bone-deep respect in her eyes."

	The audience nodded appreciatively. They all knew that look.

	"Adjusting the pattern of shocks can leave the victim writhing and twitching
helplessly on the ground."

	Dr. Mandro initiated a series involving the groin electrodes. Lisa cried out
as her bare buns clamped tight around the anal probe and her inner thighs
fluttered in painful cramping spasms. She shreiked insanely, snot spraying from
her nose, with each firestorm of crackling sparks across her labia, burning deep
inside her vaginal passage.

	"You've seen the electronic abdominal workout advertised on television? We
just tweak up that program a bit and her abs rupture and tear deep inside her."

	Lovely Lisa emitted a long, shuddering groan of the deepest anguish as Dr.
Mandro's fingers danced on the keyboard, a virtuoso of pain. Sweat ran down her
heaving torso and disappeared into her pubic bush as Lisa's taut bare belly
jumped savagely, each of the six muscle groups locked in a series of brutal,
muscle-tearing spasms.

	"Stimulating the upper torso has to be done properly to avoid shocking the
heart and putting it into cardiac arrest. We have just the program to give her a
full upper body workout."

	The audience laughed in delight as bimbo Lisa's big breasts jiggled and
quivered like jello. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyeballs rolled up in their
sockets as her face contorted in a grotesque rictus of agony.

	"Now we engage the lower torso as well."

	Lisa flushed brick-red right down to her pubic triangle as she convulsed
spastically, the electricity thrumming through her nude body. Her muscles jerked
in violent spasms as she arched mightily against the restraining straps.
Carefully orchestrated waves of shocks had her naked body pumping obscenely in
rippling, muscle-tearing, full body convulsions. Lisa shreiked shrilly as her
body hurtled against the straps in a berserk fit, opposing muscle groups cranked
to the limit and beyond, brutally tearing herself apart. Blood trickled from her
nostrils. Her smooth bare bum, clenched tight, bounced frantically on the seat.
The crackle and snap of breaking bones accompanied the next wave of violently
convulsive spasms. Foam frothed from her lips. Her bloodshot eyeballs bulged
from their sockets. There was a smell of cooking flesh. As Lisa headed
convulsively into the final deep roast, Frank finished his pitch.

	"We have a lot of electronic stun products to sell. They're cheap, easy to
conceal and hard to trace. Our Electronic Workout at Die Singvogel's
Frauleinschlachtfest will have your birds singing sweetly and will show off a
wide range of products for potential clients. They always want to see the
practical application. Zap-Tek is really grateful to you people for the
opportunity to show exactly what we can do to the customers that count."

	Six times, Dr. Mandro applied the convulsive, muscle burning sequence to
Lisa's contorted, brutally spasming body. Six times, Lisa's nude form hurtled
violently against the straps, big bare breasts jerking and juddering, buttocks
bouncing frantically, brick red from head to toe, dripping sweat. Smoke curled
out from between Lisa's shivering, quivering thighs. Frank waxed enthusiastic to
one of the leather bitches.

	"There's nothing like a live demo!"

	The leather bitch knew quality and commitment when she saw it.

	"This demo is, quite literally, drop dead gorgeous! Zap-Tek gets my vote!"

	There was chorus of assent from those around the table eyeing Lisa's
smoking, twitching body.

	"Now let's see those dungeon toys!"     

	Section 5 - The Irish Connection

	Chapter 1 - Holy Whore

	The Irish Priest's study was a masterpiece of polished, elaborately carved
oak panelling. The shelves were filled with leather bound tomes of deep
eschatological significance. The massive mahogany desk gleamed darkly. Faintly,
the sound of a harpist practising the hauntingly beautiful melodies of Tourlough
O'Carolan filtered in from the Sanctuary.

	The Supplicant knelt humbly before the Priest. Father Mulcahy fed her his
dick. After all, the poor woman was desperate and it was his Christian duty to
help her. She sucked his knob, then skilfully deep throated his entire seven
inches, a very experienced scumsucker indeed. He pumped, pulled out and unloaded
his holy oyster juice in her face.

	At Father Mulcahy's urging, the scumsucker made no move to wipe her pretty
face. Squatting nude in high heels, she spread her legs wide to show him her
slit, simultaneously displaying her freshly dyed, neatly trimmed blond pubic
thatch. Clasping her hands together behind her head, she pulled her elbows back
to lift her tits. Thick, viscous strands of cum dripped down her face and
drooled onto her big bare breasts. She bounced them hopefully.

	"Father! I'm in deep trouble."

	Father Mulcahy eyed her delectable bare bod with a benevolent eye.
	
	"What is your problem, my child?"

	"I borrowed some money from Big Sean O'Toole. He wants it back plus
interest, but I've gambled it all away!"

	Father Mulcahy nodded.

	"Borrowing money from vicious loan sharks like Big Sean is seldom a good
idea, Deirdre! It is indeed a pretty pickle you've got yerself into! How much
money are we talking about?"

	He whistled as Deirdre named an awesome sum.

	"You must have besotted the bugger with your charms to have wangled such a
large amount!"

	She pumped her hips lewdly and smiled hopefully.

	"A temporary effect, alas! Now he wants to break my arms and legs and
shatter all my teeth with a hammer since I can't pay! Could you help me,
Father?"

	"Spread your legs and bend over the desk. It helps me to think! I have the
germ of an idea, but I'll need to cogitate a bit, my child."

	The frolicsome filly spread her lovely legs lewdly, brazenly exposing her
tight slit. She bent over and pressed her naked nipples against the cool,
polished mahogany.

	A Man of God is always prepared to handle a troubled female. The Priest
pulled a tube of lubricant out of his pocket. His fingers delved in the crevice
between her smoothly rounded butt cheeks, dipping into her rectum. He worked in
lots of lubricant, an absolute necessity if she was to accomodate his larger
than average penile pile driver.

	He dropped his black pants. She groaned as he worked his monster member in.
Help from the Catholic Church didn't come easily. Gamely, Deirdre moaned
prettily with each anal stretching thrust, trying hard to please.

	As the big balled Priest flooded her bowels with his blessed scum, he
smiled.

	"You have to leave the country, my child. Big Sean is too well connected for
you to stay on the Emerald Isle. I have a friend who runs a resort for the idle
rich at a place called Movie Star Island. Do you think you can wait on tables
for the wealthy in a rich tropical resort half a world away?"

	Her pretty gold-digger eyes lit up.

	"It sounds ideal, Father!"

	Father Mulcahy laughed merrily.

	"Not a bad position for an enterprising wench like yourself! The Movie Star
Island Resort sends a private jet to pick up it's wealthy customers and fly them
there direct. I could dip into the widow and orphan's fund to pay for your
airfare. I don't suppose that you're a widow or an orphan?"

	"Even worse! I'm divorced, Father."

	"That's close enough! Just don't tell the Pope!"

	Her pretty face was anxious.

	"When can I leave, Father? Big Sean has his great lumbering gossoons looking
for me everywhere!"

	"I guess the widows and orphans fund can pay for a long distance call. I'll
phone now and set it up."

	He picked up the phone and chatted amiably long distance. The person on the
other end was apparently delighted to accept a new waitress on Father Mulcahy's
recommendation. He hung up.

	"The flight leaves tonight at half six. Of course, you can claim sanctuary
in the Cathedral until then."

	His eyes twinkled roguishly.

	"What do you suggest to pass the time?"

	She grinned.

	Outside, the Novice Nun squatted in the hallway, her prying eye to the
keyhole. She had experienced dark suspicions when she had seen that brazen hussy
Deirdre O'Shawnessy slink into the Priest's study, thinking herself unobserved.
Peeping and listening at the study door uimmediately afterwards seemed the most
natural thing. The Novice was scandalized at what she saw and heard. She could
hardly wait to tell the Mother Superior about this! Not to mention the other
Novices. On second thought, there was no rush about that. In case the nun thing
didn't work out, Novice Mary was learning a lot watching the shameless Deirdre
Hall and Father Mulcahy exchange bodily fluids.         

	
	Chapter 2 - Brides Of Christ

	The vaulted ceilings of the Irish cathedral were covered in great, glorious
scenes of cherubim and seraphim frolicking in white clouds, scenes drawn by the
greatest artists of their age. The Mother Superior raised her eyes worshipfully
to heaven. She felt truly uplifted as she sat in the polished pew of the lofty,
reverential emptiness of the deserted cathedral.

	She lifted the skirts of her robe slightly to give the Novice Nun licking
between her legs a bit more air. Mother Magdelene sighed in delight as the
Novice finished off, her young face awash in cunt juice. The Novice grinned up
at her.

	"I never knew that serving God could be so much fun!"

	The two women giggled. Mother Magdelene got back to business.

	"Did you see the Sisters off on their desert pilgrimmage to convert the
heathen? Father Mulcahy was quite insistent that they should go after he and I
had a little talk about Novice Mary's spying habits!"

	The Novice was concerned.

	"I helped them to pack their meager possessions and escorted them to the
boat. They said that they had disturbing news to reveal when they got back!"

	The Mother Superior patted the kneeling Novice on the head like a faithful
dog. The Novice smiled happily. She was extremely grateful to dear darling
Mother Magdelene. This life was a big improvement on her former home life which
consisted mainly of fucking Daddy and getting beaten regularly when he arrived
home from the pub, too drunk to get it up and blaming her for his own
inadequacy. Mother Magdelene was reassuring.

	"Don't bother your pretty little head about them! They are just young
trouble-making girls. Missionary work will make true women of them! I'm certain
that the lord will help them to understand the cruel ways of the world and
soften their hearts so that they are less judgemental of others."

	"Amen, Mother!"

	In his study, Father Mucahy made a telephone call.

	"Big Sean! Top of the morning to ye! That Deirdre bitch is on her way to
Movie Star Island. They'll sweat her nicely there. We'll get a nice share of the
profits from making her scream for the cameras, so you'll get your money back.
Be more careful in the future. It's OK to think with your dick, just don't spend
so much money to keep Mr. Joystick happy!"


	Chapter 3 - Basted Bitches

	Buried up to their necks in the burning sand, the young red-faced beauties
baked in silence, their juiceless throats too parched to even whimper. Dainty
wrists tied behind their backs and slim ankles strapped together, their only
entertainment was to watch the circling vultures, to think of their thirst and
to feel the searing sun broil their brains. The young nuns had  been given a
chance to avoid all this and had blown it.

	The Arab white slavers that had captured the young missionary nuns were
enthusiastically videotaping their fate to post on the Internet as a
masturbatory aid to eager surfers of hard-core pay sites. They saw it as Allah's
will and profitable, too.

	At last, one by one, delirious and dehydrated, the young Brides of Christ
were dug up. Clad only in bra and panties, they were hung upside down in a meat
truck, sprayed liberally with ice cold water and taken to an abattoir.

	Clamped face down on stainless steel tables, the row of tightly gagged 
bitches watched apprehensively as the needles were prepared. The gags did little
to mute their shreiks as their panties were pulled down. Their buttocks and
thigh muscles were injected with muscle convulsants to painfully stimulate the
largest muscles in their tortured bodies. They arched their backs violently and
screamed into their gags, faces brick-red. Tight young buttocks clenched to
excruciating tautness and spasmed painfully. Thighs strained and quivered
agonizingly.

	After a few hours of intense sweating, burning cramps and muscular
convulsions, they were unclamped, sobbing hoarsely. Their gags were loosened to
give each one a long drink of warm, brackish water to keep them going and to
bloat their stomachs nicely.

	Hanging upside-down, ankles tied to meathooks, their wrists were tied to
bolts set in the floor. Sweat-soaked bras and sodden panties were cut away.
Stark naked, upside down, completely exposed, gagged, they watched fearfully as
muscular men with razor straps took positions behind each of them. Their gags
were removed to allow them to scream and vomit freely.

	Slowly and deliberately, every square inch of their bare skin from the soles
of their cringing feet to their sensitive armpits was methodically and throughly
lambasted.

	Bare breasts bounced and bare bums bucked as the razor straps bit into
quivering, naked female flesh, raising long scarlet welts. The sharp slap of the
strap ripped scream after scream from taut, straining throats. Row after row of
closely spaced welts were laid across retching stomachs, bloated with brackish
water. The slavers laughed as the nude nuns practised their projectile vomiting.
Cringing bare feet curled around the slashing strap as it sliced into
exquisitely sensitive soles.

	Gags were slipped into the mouths of the softly sobbing women. They watched
with apprehension as steel trays of long skewers were laid down next to them.
The young beauties, who had thought themselves all screamed out, bawled like
babies as the long skewers were stabbed sideways through both breasts and nipple
rings inserted. Their bruised and battered boobies swelled magnificently to
awesome dimensions.

	The basted beauties shreiked until their vocal cords tore as vinegar was
squirted into their nostrils and their sinuses exploded in a fireworks
blossoming of pain. More warm, brackish water was poured down their raw, parched
throats.

	Trays of smaller skewers were laid down next to them. Their legs were parted
by strong hands. Many peed themselves as the skewers did their work on tight
virgin slits. Cuntlips were brutally pierced and labial rings inserted through
the piercings. The clitoral piercings elicited their own peculiarly high pitched
shreik as each female's most sensitive organ was exposed, delicately skewered
and a clit ring attached.

	The slavers generously gave each a second chance to avoid further agony. The
young nuns were given the choice of continued abuse or becoming pampered, albeit
hard-humping, whores. The majority promptly abandoned their faith and chose
whoredom.

	Ostentatiously, in front of the tightly gagged die-hards, they were released
from their bonds, given bathrobes to cover themselves, given mouthwatering food
and delicious juices and gently led off to be instructed in the art of suck-fuck
for bucks.

	The plainer looking, older die-hards were taken out to the desert once more
and their naked flesh was staked spread-eagled on the red-hot sand to have their
idiot brains baked and their battered bare bodies burned bright, bright red by
the pitiless, searing sun.

	The tough, good-looking die-hards were strapped onto stretchers and loaded
onto a plane to start their trip to Hamburg. The upcoming Frauleinschlachtfest
could always use some tough meat to tenderize.

	The circling vultures were connoisseurs of dying meat. They landed next to
the staked out naked nuns. The women found that they had enough juice left to
croak out a scream as the vultures razor sharp bills pecked at their eyeballs.
Opening their mouths was a mistake, though, as the vultures seized their tongues
and began fighting over the tender morsel of flesh. Lower down, sharp beaks
ripped open stomachs and demonstrated why vultures have bald heads devoid of
feathers as they burrowed their heads into the steaming guts going for the
giblets.

	It was indeed a Last Supper.

			Chapter 4 - The Sisters Of Infinite Misery

	In the Penitant's Cell in the basement of the ancient Nunnery, Novice Mary
waited patiently. She hadn't expected the Mother Superior to be too thrilled
with her spying through a keyhole and the Mother Superior had not disappointed
her. Novice Mary had been gratified to see that, in spite of this, Mother
Magdelene had taken careful note of her keyhole observations and had written
down all the particulars, including the names of nuns she had informed of Father
Mulcahy's errant ways.

	Novice Mary wondered how many Hail Marys her punishment would consist of
(with perhaps a spell of kitchen duty). She idly studied the heavy steel hooks
set in the ceiling and concluded that the large Penitant's Cell had once been a
storage room for sides of beef.

	The door to the cell was unlocked and three powerfully built nuns, dressed
in white robes with a large crimson cross on the front and another on the back,
were ushered in by Mother Magdelene. Novice Mary rose to greet the strangers.
Mother Magdelene was brisk.

	"Sister Mary! Meet Sisters Maria and Ruth. Mother Maccabeus is the head of
their Order."

	Novice Mary nodded politely. The three hard-faced nuns stared back intently.
Their cruel  eyes studied her carefully. At length, Mother Maccabeus spoke.

	"She'll do!"

	Mother Magdelene explained.

	"You have been transferred to their nunnery. They belong to The Sisters Of
Infinite Misery, a flagellant order."

	"What!!"

	Flagellant orders were, of course, banned long ago by Papal decree, yet they
still have their supporters. Head of the renegade sect, Mother Maccabeus was
brusque.

	"In addition to the solemn vows of poverty, chastity and obedience that you
have already undertaken, all Novices to our Order adopt a Vow of Silence for the
first ten years. After that, we review your performance to see if the vow should
be lifted."

	"What!! But Sister..."

	Mother Maccabeus, 'The Hammer Of God' to her fearful followers,  interrupted
forcibly.

	"Listen carefully, Sister Mary! To your Vow of Obedience, total and
absolute, we add a Vow of Silence!"

	Novice Mary swallowed hard. She looked pleadingly at Mother Magdelene.

	"Mother Magdelene! Please!"

	Mother Magdelene gave her a saintly, mildly exasperated look like a kindly
parent dealing with an wayward, though much loved, child.

	"Mary, you weren't working out too well in our Order. The Holy Mother Church
has decided that you are better suited to the Sisters Of Infinite Misery. Accept
the Will of God, child! Remember your Vow Of Obedience? I'm telling you that you
are now a Sister of Infinite Misery. Your Vow of Silence is effective
immediately!"

	Sister Mary was appalled.

	"Mother Magdelene. I quit! I'm going to the newspapers! This is not only a
violation of Catholic Doctrine, it's a perverted outrage!" 

	Mother Maccabeus grimly unhooked a leather strap from her belt.

	"That's ten!"

	Mother Magdalene spoke serenely.

	"Child, since you were already under the Vow Of Silence when you said that,
I am forced to ignore it! Maybe in ten years we can take it up again!"

	"Fuck you!"

	Mary turned to stamp out and found herself gripped between Sisters Maria and
Ruth, who handled her with the skill that comes from daily practise. Her wrists
were tied together in front of her with whipcord, lifted over her head and
hooked over one of the meathooks so that she was dangling from the ceiling with
her feet off the ground. Mother Maccabeus, a hot tempered fanatic, roared at the
dangling neophyte nun.

	"Another shocking word from your foul mouth, you impudent baggage, and I'll
beat you to a bloody pulp!"

	Novice Mary bit her lip and twisted anxiously in mid-air as the men filed
in, led by Father Mulcahy. She recognized Patrick, a boy she had spurned
repeatedly in school, the headmaster of that school and a former Sunday School
teacher. The rest she didn't know. Patrick was grinning hugely as he watched her
dangle helplessly by her wrists. The men had all made a generous donation to the
Sisters of Infinite Misery and in return were being allowed to watch Mary's
induction into the rogue order of nuns. They each carried a folding chair.
Quietly opening their folding chairs and placing them facing the action, they
sat expectantly. Mother Maccabeus nodded at Sister Ruth.

	"Prepare her!"

	Sister Ruth opened an old-fashioned straight razor and slit Mary's black
robes down the back. Quickly and deftly, her robes were sliced from her body.
Her shoes were pulled off. The men grinned as they watched her squirming in
mid-air, clad only in her white bra and panties. Her wimple remained on her
head. Sister Ruth lifted a shoulder strap and sliced it with her razor. Mary
looked anxiously at the men as Sister Ruth sliced the other shoulder strap to
her bra. Sister Ruth unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. Mary's big
breasts quivered delectably as she blushed furiously. Patrick, the spurned one,
was grinning so widely, it looked like his head might fall off.

	Sister Ruth ran her finger inside the waistband of Mary's white panties.
With a terrified glance at Mother Maccabeus, Mary begged.

	"Please! I've never been naked in front of a man!"

	Mother Maccabeus exploded.

	"Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, was stripped, whipped and hung from a
cross, all in front of a huge crowd! DO YOU THINK YOURSELF BETTER THAN JESUS
CHRIST HIMSELF??!!"

	Mary answered fearfully in a quaking voice.

	 "No. I'm not better than our Lord."

	Mother Maccabeus was furious. She shreiked at Mary, the spittle flying from
her lips.

	"Your Vow of Obedience and hence also your Vow of Silence is a promise to
the Lord God Almighty himself! A vow you have already broken repeatedly! HAVE
YOU NO RESPECT??!!!"

	Mother Maccabeus took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming madly.

	"That's twenty extra strokes in addition to the ten you've already earned
through your blasphemous insolence!"

	She snapped the waistband of Mary's panties.

	"Remove them!!"

	A slash of the razor on either side and Mary's panties were jerked from
between her legs. She clamped her thighs together frantically. The men eyed her
neatly shaven pussy with interest. At the sight of it, Mother Maccabeus erupted
volcanically, screaming in righteous outrage.

	"WHORE!!"

	Mother Maccabeus' strap was basically a strong, flat, steel spring
sandwiched between two heavy strips of leather stitched together attached to a
long grip that resembled a tennis racquet handle. In a religious fury, she swung
hard. There was a sound like a large firecracker exploding as it connected with
Mary's pale white ass cheeks. Mary screamed and arched forward, twisting and
writhing frantically as a thick red welt appeared on her bum. The Holy Mother
swung hard and fast. It sounded like a chain of firecrackers exploding in a
staccato burst as burning red welts blossomed on Mary's buttocks and thighs.
Mary shreiked dementedly, kicking and jerking, bare legs scissoring wildly.

	Mother Maccabeus, who had been a tennis pro famous for her fireball serve
until she had received The Call Of Christ, combined temper, temperament and
training in her use of the strap. The wristy follow-through combined with
lightning speed made her entire following quake whenever she started fingering
the strap that always hung from her belt. They all felt it's fiery, passionate
kiss regularly, a deeply religious experience.

	She raised the strap higher for the next series, laying a row of parallel,
thick red welts along Mary's back. Mary screamed and arched her torso forward
violently with each stroke, her heavy breasts heaving. The sitting men nodded in
approval. Mother Maccabeus shook her head in disgust. Her voice shook with
revulsion.

	"A shaven slit is the mark of Satan's Whore! The Sisters Of Infinite Misery
make a specialty of converting Satanic Whores into Virgin Brides of Christ!"

	Mother Maccabeus waited until Mary swung around, presenting her chest. She
chopped down viciously with the strap, edge first. Mary squealed as her nipples
felt like they were being sliced from her tits. In a virtuoso display, the strap
fanned up and down with stunning speed, lifting and then slapping down Mary's
melons alternately just before they reached the top and bottom of their swung.
The men noted with approval that her breasts were always swinging into the fiery
kiss of the strap.

	Mother Maccabeus switched again. The strap fanned back and forth in a blur
of speed, slapping first one breast like a pimp bitch-slapping his whore, and
then working the other. The crisp sound of leather slapping tit-meat hard and
fast filled the room, a playing card being fanned by bicycle spokes.

	When Mother Maccabeus was done, Mary's swollen breasts were bright red,
capped by bruised, purple nipples. She nodded to her helpers.

	"We know how to handle Satanic Sluts! I guarantee that this whore won't be
using her moneymaker anytime soon!"

	Mary cried out in distress as Sisters Maria and Ruth each grabbed an ankle
and pulled hard in opposite directions, like children fighting over a wishbone.
Mary whimpered in fear as she saw Mother Maccabeus shift her grip to demonstrate
her famous two-handed backhand swing.

	Mary squealed shrilly as the strap sliced up between her legs, kissed her
cuntlips and slapped her clit hard. Her two assistants held on tightly as Mother
Maccabeus, The Hammer Of God, lifted a shreiking Mary repeatedly with her
powerful swing. At last, when Mary's cuntlips were purple and savagely
distended, her swollen clit battered and blue, Mother Maccabeus rested, wiping
the sweat from her brow, having worked hard to help the Sinner see the error of
her ways and achieve Supreme Goodness. She studied the blubbering Novice in
disgust.

	"We have a way of dealing with those who repeatedly break their sacred Vow
Of Silence, a promise to the Lord High God Almighty Himself! You are expected to
accept Discipline and Mortification Of The Flesh humbly and, above all,
QUIETLY!"

	Sisters Ruth and Maria glanced at Maria in pity. They knew that it was time
for the Crucible Kiss. Mother Maccabeus smiled gently as Sisters Maria and Ruth
withdrew their Spreaders, basically a broad hooked flange attached to a handle.
Sister Maria hooked hers under Mary's top row of teeth and pulled upwards.
Sister Ruth hooked hers under Mary's bottom row of teeth and pulled downwards.
Mary hung, jaws spread wide, while Mother Maccabeus gave her the pep talk.

	"Sister Mary! You have been tried in the Crucible and found wanting! A
breaker of your Sacred Vows! Unworthy to be a Bride Of Christ! But The Sisters
Of Infinite Misery is a merciful order, well able to cope with the weaknesses of
the flesh! We will help you to achieve a Higher Godliness than anyone had
suspected possible with a simple kiss. Most kisses are deadly acts of evil
hypocrisy!"

	Mother Maccabeus looked sternly at her male audience, who shifted
uncomfortably in their seats under her unforgiving glare.

	"A kiss is mainly the Devil's Instrument of Seduction, used by men to
subvert women to purposes of the utmost depravity! Christ was betrayed by a
kiss. We convert it from a thing of horror to an Instrument Of Good!"

	Mother Maccabeus clasped Mary lovingly and gently applied her lips to
Mary's. She sucked Mary's moist, pink tongue into her mouth and bit down hard.
Mary screamed into her mouth as Mother Maccabeus chewed savagely, not severing
her tongue but bruising and puncturing it cruelly. Mary's muffled shreiks went
on and on as Mother Maccabeus gave her tongue an obscenely long, thoughtful chew
while Mary squirmed and screamed, her grotesquely swollen naked breasts crushed
against Mother Maccabeus' ample chest.

	At last, Mother Maccabeus was done. She looked at her work with
satisfaction. Mary hung by her wrists, sobbing hysterically.

	"Remember this, foul mouthed gutterslut. You won't be able to blaspheme at
all for quite a while. In future, if you make the smallest sound while accepting
Discipline, you'll get another Crucible Kiss!"

	The men folded their chairs and crept out. Foolishly, young Patrick stepped
up to shake Mother Maccabeus' hand.

	"You do superb work with sinners, Mother Maccabeus!"

	Mother Maccabeus turned, piercing him with her gimlet glare.

	"You look like you could use some work yourself!"

	Patrick began edging away nervously. Father Mulcahy intervened quickly.
Dealing with religious fanatics was a job for the trained professional, not for
callow youth.

	"Indeed he does! I've been working hard with him meself! Off ye go, ye
miserable sinner!"

	He pushed Patrick out the door and shut it behind him. On the other side,
Big Sean O'Toole was guiding the men with their bulging trousers to his
whorehouse where they could purchase some relief. Mother Maccabeus was very good
for business.

	Father Mulcahy dropped by early the next morning to see how Novice Mary was
settling in. The Sisters Of Infinite Misery were lined up in a row, bent over,
bottoms bared. Most flagellant orders are self-flagellating, but Mother
Maccabeus felt that this led to laxity and had 'toughened up' the order by
performing the strappings herself. Sisters Ruth and Maria knelt by each
pinch-faced Nun as Mother Maccabeus performed her morning strapping, listening
carefully for the smallest gasp or groan, a failure of Discipline that would
necessitate a Crucible Kiss. After each nun received her strapping, she fell to
her knees, kissed Mother Maccabeus' ring respectfully, thanked her and resumed
their almost ceaseless round of chores.

	The ones that hadn't been strapped yet waited patiently, bent over and
bottoms bared, while Mother Maccabeus and Father Mulcahy had a chat. Many of the
nuns had been seconded into the order at Father Mulcahy's insistence, but there
was no trace of resentment on their faces. They understood that a sullen nun
gets extra.

	"How's young Novice Mary doing?"

	Mother Maccabeus was earnest.

	"The poor girl was deep in sin, but she's making progress! She tried to fake
illness after licking the toilets clean with her swollen tongue, but a good
strapping worked wonders! You did well to put her here! The poor sinner was just
crying out for help! We're giving her a little quiet time down in the shitpit to
help her acclimatise."        

	Father Mulcahy was pleased. The self-righteous little bitch was going to be
no problem at all, if indeed she survived Mother Maccabeus' rigorous regime,
which seemed doubtful. He eyed the row of bared bottoms with interest.

	"Mind if I watch?"

	Mother Maccabeus was gracious to one of her staunchest supporters.

	"Not at all! The extra humiliation will do them good!"
	     


			Chapter 5 - Holy Hell

	The Penitent walked up the aisle under the high vaulted ceilings of the
cathedral. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of the incense that sweetened
the air. The varnish on the expensive, hand carved woodwork gleamed in the
brightly coloured light that shone through the stained glass windows. The
superbly sculpted, larger-than-life Christ with his crown of thorns hung high on
his huge wooden cross  looking down on the empty pews with deeply compassionate
anguish.

	The Penitent's footsteps echoed hauntingly on the hard wooden floors. The
acoustics of the ancient, beautifully maintained Irish cathedral were superb.

	The Penitent seated himself quietly in the confessional booth.

	"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

	Father Mulcahy was a genial soul. He cackled gleefully.

	"Good for you! If it weren't for sin, I'd have to turn to honest labour!"

	Sinner and Priest chuckled together briefly

. 	"What is the nature of your sin, my son?"

	"I have raped, tortured and murdered many women!"

	There was a moment of absolute, dead silence in the House Of God. The Priest
responded quietly, unshaken.

	"Ah....... then you've taken care of those bitches that were going to rat me
out?"

	"Exactly, father!"

	"God bless the IRA for connecting us up with the Arab terrorists. The Lord
works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform! Did you and your Arab friends
make the bitches scream long and hard as I instructed?"

	"Yes, Father, here's the video."

	Father Mulcahy tucked it into his voluminous robe for future reference.

	"Did you and your Arab friends convert a satisfying number of them to the
whorish faith, where they worship on their knees and on their backs, with their
tongues and with their holes?"

	"Yes, Father, they're on their backs putting their moneymakers to work for
us as we speak. The profits should be quite tidy!"

	"Did you stake out the worthless ones to roast in the desert so that the
vultures can feed on their otherwise useless carcasses?"

	"Yes, Father."

	"Wonderful!"

	The Priest adopted a sanctimonious tone of deep piety. He rolled his eyes
prayerfully upwards.

	"A shame about those poor, young nuns lost in the desert. They may never be
found!"

	"I certainly hope not, Father! I don't think we have to worry. They looked
like very hungry vultures!"

	"Did you send the ones I selected to Hamburg for the annual snuff party at
Die Singvogel: the Frauleinschlachtfest?"

	"Yes, Father!"

	"Excellent! Say a billion Hail Marys and we'll call it even! I guess our
Arab friends will have to say a billion Hail Allahs!"

	The superb acoustics of the otherwise deserted House of God echoed the
corrupt laughter of the truly depraved, converting it to a thing of supreme
beauty.

	Section 6 - The Japanese Connection

	Chapter 1 - Unhappy Campers

	Vivian stamped her pretty little foot.

	"We were robbed, ladies!"

	The other American lovelies nodded glumly. Each of them had won smaller
crowns in other beauty pageants and thought that they had a good shot at winning
this one, especially when they saw the other contestants.

	"They only picked asian girls to win the first three prizes! What a bunch of
skinny minnies! They're just sticks with a small pair of tits on top. This whole
Pacific Rim Beauty Pageant was just one big joke! And the joke was on us!"

	Hope, Tawnee and Kelly were in total agreement.

	"Any one of us is better looking than the beanpole that won!"

	"The fix was in, definitely."

	"She must give good head."

	"That witch probably sucks like a Hoover - the electric broomstick model!'

	A self-centred, California born, buxom blond bombshell, Vivian glanced
around the deserted hotel lobby in total disgust.

	"Everybody else has left! It's only one o'clock! We're stuck here on this
so-called 'tropical island paradise' with nothing to do until our flight leaves
at eleven fucking PM!"

	They watched as one of the beauty pageant personnel walked across the
deserted lobby towards them. Like many of the truly stunning women associated
with the pageant, she looked like, and probably was, a former beauty queen.
Although none of them remembered seeing her at the pageant, they could tell that
she belonged. She was sporting the gold jacket and plastic ID tag that all
pageant personnel wore. She introduced herself.

	"Hi! I'm Mikki! I represent one of the sponsors of the pageant."

	Vivian gave her a disgruntled look and prepared to launch into a diatribe.
Mikki held up
her hand.

	"I think I know what you're going to say, Vivian, and I totally agree! The
sponsor I
represent is very unhappy with the way the contest was run and judged."

	Vivian snorted.

	"You can say that again! What sponsor do you represent?"

	"Naughty Knickers."

	The girls were impressed. Vivian was very interested in this development.

	"The English lingerie company! They're big! And you say that they're
unhappy?"

	Mikki nodded decisively.

	"Definitely! The president himself said to me that he thought the idea of a
beauty
pageant was that someone shapely and beautiful won, not some pretzel stick from
Yokahama!"

	The four bodalicious babes laughed ruefully.

	"He can say that again!"

	Mikki put on her most earnest expression.

	"He is withdrawing his sponsorship as he doesn't think that the Yokahama
Pretzel is full
figured enough for any sort of lingerie promotion! He is talking with the other
sponsors. He
wishes to make it up to you, for, quite frankly, he expected one of you to win!"

	The bevy of beauties looked at Mikki with sudden interest. Maybe some good
would
come of all this. Mikki looked at them quizzically.

	"Have any of you heard of Movie Star Island? It's quite near here!"

	Vivian looked quizzically at the others. Hope, Tawnee and Kelly shook their
heads.

	"We haven't heard of it, but we sure like the name!"

	Mikki laughed.

	"As well you should! It's called Movie Star Island because a lot of movies
are filmed there. Naughty Knickers wants to film you modelling their sexy
underwear and Movie Star Island has the facilities. It's just a one hour boat
ride. You can be back in time to catch your flight tonight! Are you interested?"

	Vivian looked at Mikki shrewdly.

	"I suppose there's money in this?"

	Mikki named a figure that was more than generous.


	Chapter 2 - Movie Star Island

	The Star of the movie was pissed. Drop dead gorgeous and moving like she
knew it, Chantal Minou sauntered with deceptive nonchalance onto the set, a
seductive enchantress who had the power to harden men's cocks and melt their
filthy little minds. Her hips had a saucy twitch as she pumped her way across
the set towards the Director, flanked by her entourage.

	Nobito Kao, the Director of the film, a past master in dealing with cranky
bitches, watched her approach coolly. Chantal was dressed in a kimono and high
heels. He spoke curtly.

	"Lose the kimono, keep the heels."

	Chantal looked up at him sullenly and removed the kimono. Defying Kao didn't
bear thinking about. She was naked underneath. Everyone on the set paused to get
a good look at her flawless physique, shamelessly displayed. Chantal looked
bored, doing her best to look like she didn't give a shit.

	Kao had been directing hardcore porn flicks for the Yakuza, the Japanese
Mafia, for a long time. He had developed a little ritual for the sullen,
kidnapped bitches who starred in them. When he was much younger, he had
overheard two American sailors in Yokohama refer scornfully to the ease with
which orientals squatted effortlessly for hours. The sailors called it 'doing
the shit squat'. It was now something Kao delighted in teaching his American
bitches. He patted a small table next to him.

	"Get up on the table and do the Shit Squat, bitch."

	He never called his bitches by name. They were all fuckmeat to him.

	She had 'starred' in a few of Kao's movies before and lovely Chantal really
hated this part. She got up on the table and spread her high heels wide, putting
her pouty cuntlips and wrinkled, brown rectum on display. She put her hands
behind her head, pulling her elbows back to lift her tits, not that they needed
much lifting. A bowl of baby oil was put on the table in front of her and
another behind her. The entire cast and crew lined up for Kao's ritual 'opening
of the holes'. It was Kao's way of thanking the little people who made it all
possible.

	One by one, they stepped up, dipped their fingers in the bowl of baby oil
and then jammed them up Chantal's cunt, enjoying the sullen expression of deep
distaste on her lovely face as their probing fingers wiggled lewdly deep inside
her. As a new customer stepped up front, the old one stepped around behind her,
dipped his fingers in the bowl and slid them crudely into her heinie hole. Kao
watched in satisfaction. No matter how heart-stoppingly beautiful, his 'stars'
all had the pouty, well-used look of the fully fucked female. None of his
bitches were happy campers. It was one of his trademarks.

	When Chantal had been thoroughly finger fucked by everyone, her cuntlips
swollen and wet, ready for the cameras,  Kao prepped her for another of his
little trademarks. Chantal really, really, really hated  this part.

	Kao saved his urine in clear glass jars. He dipped a large syringe into one
of his piss jars and filled it. He considerately lubricated the slim metal tube
attached to the syringe. His goons gripped Chantal's arms to hold her steady.
Chantal grunted as he inserted the cool greased metal tube up her pisshole and
filled her bladder with his pee. Long experience had made him a superb judge of
how much his bitches could hold. Chantal's sullen, resentful face was
transformed into the pinched, taut look of a beautiful woman who is trying to
avoid peeing herself in front of everyone. Kao had made it clear that he didn't
want her to disappoint him. That meant that she was to pee on cue and at no
other time. In his movies, there was always a point in the plot where the
heroine emptied her bladder for the cameras.

	The make-up people had done their magic. Squatting naked on the table, eager
hands oiled her up for a nice 'sweaty' look, leaving no part ungroped. Chantal
squatted, completely humiliated, holding her pee, everyone's squeezetoy.

	Then it was the wardrobe department's turn. For this charming little
exercise, Chantal was going braless and pantyless.  She slipped on the white
halter top and the ass-hugging white spandex jogging shorts. She put on the
white socks and running shoes.  Her nipples and swollen cuntlips were clearly
outlined through the skin-tight jogging outfit. Lovely Chantal looked
exquisitely fuckable.

	Kao was a very hands-on director. Standing behind her, Kao put his arms
around her and teased her nipples erect while he coached her in her starring
role.

	"You're a jogger. We'll get some footage of you jiggling along. You run
along the road and down the path into the woods. The gang of rapists jump out,
you piss yourself and, after that, just do what you're told."

	Chantal hated the 'just do what you're told' part. That always involved deep
degradation and total humiliation, not to mention pain, although nothing like
the pain if she didn't do what she was told.

	Kao turned her around, put a sweatband on her, cupped her heart-stoppingly
beautiful face in his hands and stared intently at her.

	"Any questions?"

	Chantal had a zillion questions about this delightfully vague little
scenario, but knew better than to ask. She spoke resignedly.

	"No, no questions. I'm a jogger, I run along the road and into the woods.
The rapists jump out, I pee and then I do what I'm told." 

	He stared at her coldly a moment longer. The bitch was definitely starting
to fade on him. They all did, sooner or later. He turned to his crew.

	"Everybody ready?"

	The sound man nodded. The three cameramen nodded. All the assistants nodded.
The four rapists nodded. It was a definite nodfest.

	"OK! Let's do it!"

	He had Chantal jiggle enchantingly down the street a few times, filming her
from a variety of angles. She jogged and her braless tits jogged right along.
The cameramen had a good time catching her ass cheeks dimpling prettily as she
bounced energetically down the rough path into the woods, each bounce a fearful
strain on her sphincter control. The tense, totally focussed look of a young
lovely holding in her bursting bladder could easily pass for the slightly
constipated expression of the dedicated jogger. Her long, shapely legs scissored
lithely down the path. Below her jiggling halter top, Chantal's taut bare belly
exhibited the 'six pack' of the dedicated workout fanatic.

	Out of nowhere, two darts imbedded themselves in her gut. Chantal cried out
and looked in surprise along the slim wires attached to the darts. They led to
the smirking rapist holding the taser. He pressed the button.

	Her stomach cramped violently as the electric jolt hit it. A lightning bolt
of white hot agony knocked her to her knees. Losing bladder control was easy.
Kao's dark yellow beer piss sprayed messily from her crotch, staining her white
shorts as she doubled over, grabbing her belly. The rapist barked orders at her.

	"Don't touch the wires or you'll get another, much harder jolt. Sit up
straight and take off your top! Let's see those tits, babe!"

	He punched the button to illustrate his point. Chantal screamed and
frantically tore out the wires. Her face registered total despair as she saw the
other three rapists with their tasers.

	Two darts punched into her buttocks and Chantal screamed even higher as her
buns spasmed, clenched unbelievably tight. Her hips punched forward as Chantal
arched backward violently, her big breasts mashed tight against her top.

	"Sit up straight and show us your tits, bitch!"

	As she pulled the halter top up over her head, baring her bouncing boobs for
the cameras, two arms wrapped around her head from behind, holding her in place,
head and arms entangled in the top. The top was pulled up enough to expose her
mouth. Her buttocks clenched hard as they gave her another jolt with the taser.
Obligingly, Chantal opened her mouth and screamed. Pliers gripped her tongue and
pulled it out. A large fish hook was jabbed through the base of her tongue.

	Her top was peeled off. The fish hook, attached to a strong steel cable,
pulled her upwards until she was prancing desperately on tiptoe, looking like
the trophy catch of the day. The taser darts were pulled out of her buttcheeks
and her soggy shorts were pulled down to her ankles.

	The cameras rolled as sweet, fuckable Chantal was sandwiched, one up her ass
and one up her cunt. Chantal reached overhead and grabbed the smooth, slippery
wire attached to the fish hook. She squealed and squirmed frantically as she
bounced between the hard-humping rapists, desperate to avoid having her tongue
ripped out.

	Kao was using a three camera set-up to capture the action: one for Chantal's
pretty face and protruding, hooked tongue, one for her big bare breasts
scrubbing the cunt fucker's chest and the third to capture the thick one-eyed
snakes stretching her holes wide, eagerly slithering in and out.

	Kao only regretted that he couldn't capture the smell. He inhaled deeply.
The tangy mixture of piss, sweat and baby oil filled his nostrils.

	The first pair of rapists emptied themselves inside Chantal. The second pair
stepped up for sloppy seconds, playfully leaning their weight on her a bit.
Chantal shreiked and squealed frantically, giving one of those beautiful,
natural performances that Kao always coaxed from his unwilling stars. They were
never bored bitches going through the motions.

	As the second pair unloaded, the first pair were ready to move Chantal on to
even greater heights of reality performance. She screamed hard as two big
meathooks attached to steel cables were buried in her tits. A can of gasoline
was emptied over her and she was hoisted into the air, shreiking and shuddering,
dripping gas. One camera focussed on the cigarette lighter being moved
dramatically towards her twitching, gas-soaked running shoes. The other cameras
moved back for the big picture.

	There was a loud whoosh and Chantal's screaming, squirming body was engulfed
in flames. Again, Kao regretted that his viewers couldn't feel the intense heat
and savour the smell of cooking cunt. The soundman captured the roar of the
flames, the sizzle and crackle of the roasting flesh, the thrum of the wires
holding her up and, of course, the haunting, inhuman shreiks. Inside a sheath of
flickering flame, Chantal's naked body jerked and twitched.

	Kao decided that the artistic moment to end was when the charred, smoking
remains pulled loose from the steel hooks and plopped to the floor like a sack
of wet cement. It took a few moments but, once more, Chantal delivered the
required performance. One camera focussed on her cooked tongue still attached to
the fish hook. The others panned the smoking corpse. Kao turned to his crew.

	"OK! That's a wrap!"

	Kao turned to his Production Manager.

	"We need some fresh meat. This babe's cooked!"

	The Production Manager smiled ingratiatingly, the perfect suck-up beta male.

	"We expect a fresh delivery any moment!"

	"Excellent!"



	Chapter 3 - Welcome to Movie Star Island

	As the boat approached Movie Star Island, Mikki looked through the
binoculars and grinned.

	"They're filming a Count Dracula movie. Look at the three young pretties
being driven to their doom!"

	She pointed to the island. In the distance, a horse drawn wagon was
careening wildly along a road that followed the coastline briefly. Three
shreiking beauties in the back of the wagon could be heard shreiking dementedly
across the water. Vivian, Hope, Tawnee and Kelly watched the magic of movies in
total enchantment. A helicopter was zooming along behind the wagon with a film
crew aboard capturing everything. Sharp-eyed Tawnee was amazed.

	"Holy moly! It looks like those babes' boobs are going to pop out of their
tops any second!"

	Vivian was more down to earth.

	"Shit! Listen to those actresses scream! It would hurt my throat to scream
that loud!"

	The wagon disappeared out of sight around a bend. Tawnee and her big boobs
bounced in excitement.

	"Wow! They're making a movie!"

	The other three mirrored her enthusiasm.

	"Cool!"

	Tawnee's eyes were huge.

	"Maybe we can get parts! I've got bigger tits than any of those girls in the
wagon!"

	The other three rolled their eyes skywards at this bit of flagrant
self-promotion. Mikki smiled indulgently.

	"Who knows?"

	The four beauties could hardly contain their excitement.

	Aboard the wagon, different emotions prevailed. The three pretty coeds
moaned and whimpered pitifully with every bounce of the wagon. The wildly
plunging team of horses whinnied shrilly with each crack of the driver's whip.
Heavy hooves thundered as the team pounded down the rough path with their
jouncing load of misery.

	In the madly bouncing wagon were mounted three rough wooden benches. Each
bore a squealing coed with her bluejeans and panties down around her ankles. The
driver eagerly sought out every rut, bump and gully in the road. With every
jounce and shudder of the heavy, high-sided, horse-drawn wagon, he cackled
maniacally as his shreiking passengers squealed like stuck pigs.

	Actually, stuck pig was the mot juste. Each bareass beauty had her rectum
impaled on a pointed wooden peg projecting up from her bouncing benchseat.
Wild-eyed, gagged, wrists bound behind them, shitholes stretched wide, their
bare bums bounced up and down. The thick, splintery pegs were slick with blood.
A seat belt prevented them from popping free while giving them an agonizing
amount of travel. As Tawnee predicted, their braless breasts burst out of their
tight tops, shuddering and shaking wildly. The frenzied driver cracked his whip
like a machine gun, laughing dementedly as the wagon hurtled through a brutally
rough patch, combining a delightful jigglefest with a brutal reaming.

	The helicopter with the camera crew followed the wildly careening wagon. The
'crotch cams'  hidden in the wagon were focussed on the bouncing buns riding the
splintery wooden spikes. Cameras posted along the wagon track followed the wagon
as it thundered past.

	At last, the wagon pulled into the courtyard of an ancient castle. It
stopped under a derrick. A rider on horseback greeted the sobbing coeds.

	"Welcome to Castle Blood! I am Count Nicolai, a direct descendant of Vlad
the Impaler."

	The three lovelies looked in horror at the three wooden spikes projecting up
from the stones of the courtyard. Without further ado, Count Nicolai hopped
nimbly off his horse and into the wagon. He ungagged the nearest coed and
grabbed a meathook hanging by a rope from the derrick.

	"Time to open your other hole, ladies!"

	He rammed the meathook in under her chin. The point popped out of her mouth.
He undid her seatbelt. The bloody wooden peg pulled out of her as she was
hoisted high in the air, kicking and screaming. Her pants and panties fell to
the ground as she struggled violently like a hooked fish being pulled out of the
water.

	Fritz and Igor, a pair of matching hunchbacks, grabbed her shapely ankles
firmly and spread her lovely legs wide as she was lowered onto the spike. She
shreiked higher as the spike smoothly penetrated her most carefully guarded
orifice. Blood burst from her mouth and nostrils as her feet touched the ground.

	The other two coeds were meathooked, hoisted and spiked. The cameras played
over their twitching, juddering bodies as they slid screaming down their spikes
and their life's blood gushed out between their legs like some obscene menstrual
flow, staining the white wood of their spikes bright red.

	After they had all bled out, their lifeless bodies slid all the way down.
Their pretty heads were tilted back and the points of the spikes were carefully
guided to exit from their mouths.

	After this charming tableau had been filmed from a wide variety of angles,
the heavily tattooed Japanese director clapped his hands.

	"Excellent work, everyone. The Oyabun will be pleased!"

	The Oyabun being the head of the gang, this was good. When the Oyabun was
displeased, people started losing body parts.

	 The boat carrying the four American Beauties pulled in to the dock. Nobito
Kao's assistant arrived to meet the meat. A small, smarmy man, he smiled
pleasantly, the perfect toady.

	"We have some wonderfully sexy suimsuits for you to model, ladies! Nobito
Kao, the great director, will coax unbelievable performances from each and every
one of you!"

	Tawnee clapped her hands and bounced with excitement, her big boobs bouncing
right along.

	"Whoopee!!"


	Chapter 4 - Deirdre Screams For The Cameras

	On the movie set, Deirdre danced desperately from one foot to the other,
struggling desperately to hold Kao's pee in her bursting bladder. She'd hated
the 'opening of the holes' ritual. Her fuck hole and shit hole burned from the
invasive groping fingers. She really hated having a syringe-full of urine jammed
up her pee hole and her bladder inflated with Kao's beer piss. She wondered what
was next. Kao squeezed her tits to get her attention. Deirdre stared at him,
wild-eyed.

	"Listen up, bitch! You're dressed like a businesswoman: skirt, blouse,
jacket, stockings and high heels. I know it's a stretch, but act like a decent,
respectable woman who's been working late. Understand, cunt?"

	Deirdre nodded frantically, desperate to get on with it and be allowed to
empty her bursting bladder.

	"I'm a respectable businesswoman who's been working late. Got it!"

	"We get some shots of you working at your desk, studying and signing papers.
You look at your watch. It is late. You stuff the papers in your briefcase and
get up to leave."

	Dierdre nodded quickly.

	"I work at the desk with some papers, look at my watch, realize it's late
and stuff the papers in my briefcase. Then I get up to leave. Got it!"

	"OK! Let's film it!"

	Deirdre stared at him.

	"Uh, when do I get to pee?"

	Kao glared. She looked into his black, pitiless eyes and swallowed hard.

	"Later! Is there a problem, bitch?"

	"No! I can do it!"

	He waited cruelly, watching her dance with slitted eyes.

	"Do you have any other stupid fucking questions, bitch?"

	"No! No! Let's do it!"

	He waited again.

	"Are you sure?"

	"I'm sure! I'm sure! I don't have any more stupid fucking questions!"

	"Good!"

	He instructed the cameramen.

	"You! I want crotch shots of the fuckmeat taken from the floor. You! Get her
tits from the side. Lots of jiggle!"

	He stared at Deirdre and ruffled her hair to give her a
dishevelled-at-the-end-of-the-workday look.

	"Hang up your jacket, undo a few buttons of your blouse and sit in the chair
shuffling the papers. I know you're just a lazy bimbo, but try to look
intelligent and hard-working!"

	Deirdre did as she was bid, undoing a few more buttons and showing more
cleavage than most businesswomen would or could. She sat in the chair, crossed
her legs and squeezed her thighs together tightly to hold in her hotly pressing
pissload.

	The cameras captured her glorious gams and titanic tits as she studied the
papers. The taut expression of a woman focussing on holding in her pee could
easily be mistaken for studiousness. She glanced at her watch and stuffed the
papers in her briefcase. She stood carefully, so as not to disturb her bladder,
giving the illusion of being stiff and weary at the end of a long day. She put
on her jacket and sauntered sexily from the room, trying not to trip over
cameramen going for up-the-skirt shots.

	In short order, they were in the lobby for the next scene. Deirdre was
getting a bit red in the face from her efforts. She had seen what happened to
women who failed at bladder control and didn't want to spend the next hour
screaming while they worked her over with Zap-Tek electric prods 'to tighten her
up' while the cameras rolled. Kao squeezed her tightly clenched buttocks.

	"OK, cuntbrain, here's what happens! You sign out and say good by to the
security guard."

	She did this as quickly and efficiently as possible, groaning slightly as
she spread her legs to give the cameramen some panty shots as she bent over to
sign out. She winked at the security guard who was looking shamelessly down her
blouse along with the cameraman behind him.

	They were quickly done. Everyone moved out onto the street for the next
scene. Kao squeezed her tits once more to get her attention.

	"Listen  up, bitch! This is the scene where you pee yourself." 

	Deirdre was deeply grateful, pressing her thighs tightly together and
squirming delectably. Her straining piss tube was starting to leak slightly,
dampening her panties and she was deathly afraid that Kao's roaming fingers
would blunder onto this. She jiggled her tits to keep his attention topside. She
pulled her thoughts from her burning crotch and struggled to pay attention.

	"You are walking along the sidewalk late at night. Some men, coming the
other way, part politely to let you pass. As you pass between them, they attack
you and you wet yourself. After that, just do as you are told."

	 The 'do as you are told' part was the pay-off. Kao was deliberately
ambiguous.

	"I'm sure this part will come quite naturally for you!"

	The Irish lass nodded.

	"Jesus, Joseph and Mary! I can hardly wait!"

	Kao grinned. Deirdre strolled along the sidewalk, a tight pinched walk that
gave her buns a sexy twitch. The men parted to let her through. As she stepped
between them, they grabbed her, ripped off her tear away skirt so that her black
silk panties were clearly visible and pinned her, face first, against the brick
wall. Deirdre grunted in pain as they punched her hard twice in the kidneys.
This made losing bladder control easy, not that an agonized Deirdre needed any
encouragement.

	A heavy load of urine spurted messily from between her parted thighs. The
cameras recorded it. Still peeing, they spun her around.

	"You basta...oooph!"

	The breath whooshed out of her as a rock hard fist buried itself in her
stomach. Hoisted by the armpits between two of her attackers, she was hustled
into an alley. Her bloated bladder was still emptying. Urine ran down her legs,
leaving a trail of piss on the pavement. Her jacket was pulled off and the front
of her blouse ripped open, sending the buttons flying. She stood, gasping
painfully, in high heels,  stockings and pee-soaked panties, her see-thru bra
clearly revealing her dark, long stem nipples framed by her wide-open,
buttonless blouse.

	Bosom heaving, still trying to get her breath back, Deirdre was tied,
kneeling, with her back to the splintery, tarred wood of a telephone pole. Her
wrists were tied together behind the pole. Her ankles were crossed and tied
together behind the pole as well. A rope connecting her elbows was cinched
tight. The flimsy, see-thru bra was ripped from her chest. Her big bare boobs
bobbed enchantingly for the cameras.

	"Tell us about the DX47!"

	The pretty face of the kneeling, bare breasted Irish lass was a study in
confusion and outrage.

	"What are you daft buggers on about now? What the fuck's a DX47?"

	The leader squatted down in front of her and hefted one of her massive
mammaries.

	"If you don't talk, spy, things will be hard for you!"

	"Jesus Murphy! Do you think being punched in the kidneys was easy?"

	Deirdre watched suspiciously as he uncapped an unlabelled bottle, upended it
over a cotton ball, soaking it, and swabbed her nipples with alcohol. Her
nipples sprang erect with the coolness of the alcohol. She started screaming
when he casually flicked a cigarette lighter and lit them. The hot blue flame
licked at her nipples. When he judged that her teats were toasted nicely, he
smothered the flame with a wet cloth. Just enough to burn painfully. Not enough
to burn out the nerve endings and remove all sensation.

	He smiled encouragingly.

	"Tell us all about the DX47."

	Deirdre, her face screwed in pain, was hotly contemptuous.

	"What are you fuckheads doing? How can I know anything? You just made it
up!"

	He ripped off her panties and began swabbing alcohol onto her crotch. The
telephone pole kept her legs spread. Helpful hands spread her butt cheeks so he
could swab her rectum. Helpful fingers spread her labia. Deirdre began to
hyperventilate as he soaked her bottle blond pubic hairs, her voice rising
shrilly.

	"Stop it! WHAT DO YOU MISERABLE FUCKERS THINK YOU'RE DOING??!!"

	The cigarette lighter flicked and hot blue flame licked her crotch. Throat
muscles standing out, taut as steel cables, face flushed dark red, Deirdre
shreiked out the piercing, deeply haunting screams that were Yakuza Crimson
Dragon's stamp of authenticity. The brick walls of the alleyway layered them,
echoing loudly, scream on top of scream.

	Again, he waited while she shreiked dementedly, ruby lips opened wide,
spittle flying, before he snuffed the flames with a wet towel. Enough to burn
agonizingly, but never enough to burn out the sensitive vaginal nerve endings.
He spoke urgently, coaxingly.

	"Tell us about the DX47!"

	Like agonized torture victims since the beginning of time, Deirdre came up
with whatever she thought would most please her tormenters.

	"I hid it under the bed!"

	He patted her sweating, flushed face affectionately. He liked tough girls
with a high tolerance for pain who didn't pass out easily. He also prided
himself on his improv acting skills.

	"Excellent! Just testing! That's where we found it! Only the guilty one
would know that! Now we are certain who the spy is! Release her!"

	Her arms and ankles were undone. Deirdre was helped to her feet, holding her
bright red inner thighs spread wide as pressing them together was too painful,
giving a superb view of her obscenely swollen, grotesquely distended labia. The
cameras were still running. Deirdre looked around anxiously, wondering what more
bad shit could be coming down the pipe.

	"What the ... ooommph!"

	White swaths of gagging cloth were jammed into her open mouth and tied
tightly in place. Her slim wrists were tied together behind her back. She
screamed into the gag as the first rapist entered her from the front. Her
throbbing, inflamed cuntlips enveloped his stiff gristle in their hot, dark
embrace. She shreiked much higher when her burning hot heinie hole was opened
for business by a greased rectal reamer. Her burning nipples scrubbed
agonizingly against the rapist's chest as the knobbed reamer twisted and pumped
painfully, delving deeply between her bright red asscheeks.

	A cut provides only a brief moment of pain and then settles down to a dull
ache. A burn throbs agonizingly, on and on, relentlessly, spiking the brain
pitilessly with sharp icepicks of pain.

	The rapist decunted, a thick thread of white cum trailing from her vaginal
lips to his dick, growing thinner and thinner until it broke. Deirdre sank
sobbing to her knees, shapely legs parted to ease the pain as his peckersnot ran
down her glowing inner thighs.

	He gripped a long metal skewer by it's handle.

	"Since we have found the spy, convicted from her own lips, let's celebrate
with a tit-kebab!"

	Deirdre squealed into her gag as he jabbed through both her melons,
skewering them neatly from the side. Pulling on the skewer, he led her forward,
shuffling on her knees, until her tits were positioned over the mouth of a trash
barrel. A belt was wrapped around the barrel and cinched tightly behind her back
so that Deirdre hugged it in an obscene, spread legged embrace. Deirdre
whimpered as her breasts were were squirted with barbecue sauce and a basting
brush slathered it all over her bobbing boobs. She tried to arch back as the
bottle of alcohol was emptied into the barrel. Unless she wanted to rip her tits
off, it was futile. The skewer and waist strap held her firmly in position. Her
eyes were huge as one of her attackers lit a match and grinned at her. She
whimpered beseechingly into her gag.

	She screeched like a stuck pig as he tossed it in. There was a loud whoosh
and the barrel instantly filled with flames. She writhed and twisted as her tits
roasted, the barbecue sauce hissing and crackling. The fire sizzled as drops of
barbecue sauce dripped into the barrel. Her belly, crushed against the hot
barrel, turned bright red. The leader was enthusiastic.

	"Looks like we're going to get some roast pork belly, too!"

	High haunting screams echoed in the alley, mixed with dirty sniggers from
the barbecue boys.

	"Let's see if she's ready!"

	Poor Deirdre, her face bright red from the heat, was wailing like a banshee
when the carving knife sliced into her tit. Her shreiks rose several decibels as
a carving fork was jabbed in to open the cut wider. The leader inspected the
sizzling tit meat.

	"I like mine medium rare! She needs a bit more sauce!"

	The leader took the carving knife and slit open the top of her tits, slicing
deeply from the base to the nipple, not cutting all the way through, creating a
channel. Barbecue sauce was, once more, slathered over her toasting tits and
forced generously in to the carved channel. She cooked a bit longer, screaming
hard, until he was satisfied. She fainted at last as he carved her tits from her
chest and hoisted them, sizzling loudly, on the skewer.

	He carried her smoking tits over to a wooden picnic table, leaving Deirdre,
unconscious and still cooking, her hair aflame, lashed to the hot burning
barrel. The cameras captured her blackening body, burning her way to hell in the
background as, in the foreground, he placed her smoking tits on a butcher block
and sliced delicately. 

	He served her hot tit meat to the others who ate it with broad grins,
pronouncing it delicious.


	Chapter 5 - Stars of The Silver Scream

	Mikki led the scantily clad beauty queens onto the set. Made-up and
posturing in revealing, skimpy little costumes while everyone watched and took
pictures, the beauty queens felt right at home.

	"Naughty Knickers is doing a 'Prisoner Of Love' series of ads. If you could
just put your wrists in the leather handcuffs over your heads, ladies. We're
going to start with close-ups of your wrists so make sure the cuffs are good and
tight. We want it to look real!"

	Mikki smiled encouragingly. Vivian, Hope, Tawnee and Kelly stood in their
skimpy costumes, cuffing their wrists to leather cuffs dangling on chains from a
heavy ceiling beam.

	Time to get serious. The grinning cameramen were in position. The soundman
gave the thumbs up. The lighting guy had all the lights and reflectors
positioned and ready.

	Mikki started the show.

	"Up on tiptoes, ladies!"

	"HEY!"

	"WHOA THERE!"

	"HOLY SHIT!"

	Three of the four lovelies cried out in distress as the chains hoilding
their cuffs were pulled tight and they were cranked up on tiptoe. Tawnee, a
gymnast until her tits got too big, was a bit more restrained.

	"Um, this isn't very comfortable, Mikki!"

	Mikki grinned.

	"It isn't meant to be!"

	A redhead in a kimono and high heels, looking very scared, was escorted into
the room by two well-muscled, heavily tattooed goons.

	"This is Raquel. She is the Contest Representative whose Official Jacket and
I.D. I took for my masquerade."

	Mikki looked at them contemptuously.

	"You didn't even glance at the laminated ID card dangling around my neck.
I'm hardly a redhead named Raquel!" 

	As intended, the helpless beauty queens felt foolish.

	"You are now prisoners of the Yakuza and will act in various extremely
explicit sex films. Raquel will demonstrate some of the possibilities."

	The dangling beauties were dumb-struck as Mikki turned to Raquel. A frail,
delicate beauty, Raquel had a lot of allergies and required expensive medicine.
She was VERY expendable, the perfect whipping girl. The camera crew focussed on
her as Mikki started coaxing her through her performance.

	"Lose the kimono, bitch."

	The words were like a punch to the diaphragm. Raquel dropped the kimono and
stood, a nervously naked nookie in high heels. The carpet matched the drapes.
She was a natural redhead. Mikki patted a long table next to her.

	"Get up here and show the new bitches how to do the Shit Squat."

	Raquel got up on the table, squatted down and spread her legs wide,
performing a primitive, lewd, rude and crude crotch display. She put her hands
behind her head, elbows back to lift her tits. The girls were shocked when Mikki
fingered her slit and rectum. It was a definite fashion model taboo to fondle
the merchandise, no matter how flagrantly displayed.

	"This position is known as the Shit Squat. Director Kao loves making his
bitches do this act of primal crotch display and he doesn't like explaining it
or asking twice! Don't try playing dumb bunny with him and pretending to not
know anything about it, unless you like pain! Right, Raquel?"

	Raquel's pretty face twitched. Her head bobbed nervously, anxious to please.

	"That's right, ma'am! He jabbed an electric shock thing inside my cunt and
fried me hard when I tried it!"

	Mikki held up the pussy prod for inspection. It looked like a flashlight
with a long rod instead of a lightbulb. The long rod with the two electrodes on
the end evoked an involuntary gasp of horror when she thumbed the button to
spark it. The bright blue spark arched between the electrodes, crackling
wickedly. Mikki smiled.

	"If we're feeling kind, we grease it up before we ram it in as far as it
will go, pressing it up tight against your cervix when we zap you."

	The dangling beauties glanced at each other unbelievingly. Mikki moved right
along.

	"Next, Raquel will demonstrate the 'opening of the holes' ritual that
precedes all of Kao's movies."

	Raquel hated this. It made her look and feel like a piece of raw fuckmeat.
The dangling beauties watched in disbelief as the make-up and wardrobe people,
who had just helped them into their make-up and suimsuits, who had been joking
cheerfully with them, lined up, dirty smirks on their faces. Raquel blushed
furiously as they, one by one, dipped their fingers in baby oil and
finger-fucked her vaginally and anally while everyone watched and the cameras
captured her humiliation for the paying customers.

	That's when it hit home. Exhibitionism was something they were very familiar
with, so a babe exposing herself was no big deal. Accepting a gang rape was a
plunge into the tiger pit. As Raquel squatted, fully exposed, teary eyed and
shamefaced, her cuntlips fully distended, wet and dripping, Vivian felt like her
heart had been stomped.

	"My God! I can't believe this is happening!"

	A tall, very hard-faced Japanese stepped onto the set. They could tell he
was important by the deeply respectful looks of the crew, definitely an alpha
male. Mikki was stern.

	"Ladies! It's time to show what you've got to Master Kao!"

	He stepped up to Vivian and cupped her pretty face in his hands, running his
thumbs appreciatively over her high cheekbones. His cold, black eyes looked
deeply into her big baby blues.

	"Am I going to have a problem with you, bitch?"

	Vivian blanched.

	"No! Uh, no sir!"

	He eyed her one-piece black swimsuit with it's lace-up sides, showing a big
strip of beautifully tanned flesh down each side. It looked like her tits were
going to explode out of the top. Her nipples and cuntlips were clearly outlined
by the thin, clinging fabric.

	"Do you have a problem with showing me what you've got, bitch?"

	Two spots of red flared on Vivian's cheeks, the closest she ever got to
blushing.

	"No problem, feel free! Take a look!"

	He undid the bows that did up the side laces. He pulled the front forward.
Vivian's big bare bumpers bounced out. Her loosened swimsuit slithered down her
body and slid to the floor, leaving her starbolic naked. He ran his hands up and
down her sleek young body. He hefted her tits, fingered her pale pink nipples,
squeezed her delectable bare buns, twirled her whispy, golden pubic hairs in his
fingers and rubbed his thumb along her slit.

	"Good!"

	He moved to Tawnee and eyed her stupendous tits.

	"Are those real, bitch?"

	"Sure! Take them out and give The Twins a squeeze!"

	The Twins popped out of her bikini top easily, full, ripe and luscious. They
jiggled liquidly, proving themselves the real thing and not a pair of
over-inflated beachball implants. He jerked down her bikini bottoms. His
obscenely probing hands groped, squeezed and fondled her intimately until
Tawnee. despite her brazen front, was red-faced and gasping. She yelped as he
slapped her rump and moved on to Kelly. Kelly looked at him sullenly, doing her
best to not look impressed. Kao loved bitches like that.

	"You understand what happens if you don't co-operate fully? Unwilling
bitches star in the snuff flicks."

	Kelly snorted. The Yakuza film crew thought that her knowing, smirky face
was made for fuck films.

	"Snuff movies are a myth! None of us should cave in just because you
threaten us with snuff flicks! There's no such thing! I saw it on the internet!
Police forces worldwide agree that no one actually makes commercial snuff
movies. It's like advertising that you're a murderer and providing them with the
evidence!"

	Next to her, Hope nodded agreement vehemently.

	"That's right! I read it too!"

	They were deeply disconcerted when this was greeted with withering waves of
derisive laughter. Kao turned to his Production Manager.

	"Explain."

	The slimy little toad was delighted to put the stupid bitches straight.

	"The Oyabun arranged for the police world-wide to adopt this attitude!"

	Kelly rolled her eyes skeptically skyward.

	"How could he do that?"

	"Easy! He made a movie where several actresses were snuffed gruesomely. The
eyeball skewering sequence alone is a classic! He distributed it brazenly and
openly. Police worldwide started taking the distributers and the production
company to court, charging them with murder and as accessories to murder."

	Kelly nodded.

	"Yeah! I read all about it! It was a fake! Just like I said!"

	Hope nodded agreement as the slimy suck-up toad continued.

	"Exactly! The police looked like fools! Once the police had laid lots of
charges, the Oyabun produced the naughty little actresses who had supposedly
been snuffed, alive and giggling! They appeared on talk shows all over, talking
sarcastically about big, stupid policemen who had never heard of computer
graphics and special effects, fields in which Japan leads the world! The Oyabun
even produced one of those "the making of" videos showing how it all was done!
The police worldwide were humiliated! Now they maintain that it is all faked and
there is no such thing as a commercially made snuff film to avoid any more
embarassments in court and, above all, in front of the public and the press,
where they were made to look stupid, ignorant and naive."

	Kao smiled.

	"In other words, we have free reign! Computer graphics and special effects
are expensive! Dumb cunts are cheap!"

	The beauties twisted uneasily at this. Kao demonstrated his artistic side.

	"Reality has its own flavour!"

	Kelly's swimsuit featured a large zipper down the front. Kao unzipped her
and peeled it off. A ripe, tight brunette with a neatly trimmed strip of pubic
thatch, Kelly stared at him, suddenly afraid. Kao held out his hand. Mikki
placed the pussy prod in it. Kelly tried to kick him in the nuts but, dangling
from her wrists, lacked the leverage to do anything effective. He easily avoided
it as the muscular goons grabbed her ankles and spread her legs wide. He held
the pussy prod in front of her face. She watched the angry blue spark snap
viciously between the electrodes with frightened eyes.

	"Look! I'm sorry!"

	She started panting hard and struggling futilely as the cameramen moved in
for close-ups: one on her crotch, one on her face.

	"I believe Mikki mentioned that, if we were feeling kind, we greased it up
before insertion."

	Poor naked Kelly twisted and squirmed.

	"Please! You can't do this!"

	"No grease for you!"

	Kelly shreiked as he brutally rammed the slim pussy prod into her dry
fuckhole, burying it deep. He thumbed the button.

	Kelly's naked body spasmed violently. She flushed brick red down to her
nipples.

	He thumbed it again.

 	Every vein in her foxy face stood out, throbbing hard, as she screamed like
the damned  roasting in the pits of hell. Her bare buttocks dimpled as her buns
clamped agonizingly tight. Her widespread thighs quivered, groin muscles
stretched like thick ropes along her inner thighs. Her pretty feet fluttered.
Hands tightened to fists, her long nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.

	He thumbed it a third time.

	Bare breasts shaking wildly, Kelly screamed piercingly, her voice sharp and
shrill, her sweat-slick torso heaving. Twin rivulets of blood trickled from her
flared nostrils.

	Kao jerked the pussy prod out. His goons released her ankles. He turned to
Hope who was watching Kelly's dangling body shuddering and juddering, twisting
and jerking spastically. She stared at Kao, wide-eyed, her jaw agape. Gently, he
put a finger under her chin and pushed her mouth shut.

	"OK, bitch. I'm going to let you down. I want you to take off your clothes,
get up on the table and do the Shit Squat. Understand?"

	Hope nodded, too scared to speak. Kao glared at her.

	"UNDERSTAND?"

	Hope hastily found her voice.

	"Yes, sir! Sorry sir!"

	The goons let her down. She hurriedly removed her halter top and spandex
bottom. She started to remove her tennis shoes, but Kao stopped her.

	"Keep the tennis shoes and white socks on, fuckhead!"

	"Sorry, sir!"

	She got up on the table next to Raquel, squatted, spread her legs wide and
exhibited her tight slit and wrinkled rectum to the cameras. She put her hands
behind her head, exposing herself fully. Kao dipped two fingers in the bowl of
baby oil and slipped them into her cunt. He pumped them in and out, quickly,
repeatedly. Hope's sweet, innocent face twitched with each crude penetration.
Her eyes began to tear.

	"Do you have any problems with this, bitch?"

	"No, sir!"

	He stared deep into her scared rabbit eyes, cruel and pitiless.

	"I expect my bitches to accept the most intimate handling without any
trouble."

	"Yes, sir!"

	Hope quickly blinked away the tears. Turning on the faucets wasn't going to
work and might earn her a taste of the dreaded pussy prod. She anxiously eyed
Kelly's dangling form. Kelly was still panting hard from her exertions,
blubbering softly. The prod was definitely to be avoided at all costs.

	Hope took an enchantingly deep breath to steady herself as Kao dipped his
long fingers once more in the bowl and slipped them up her asshole, pumping in
and out, fast and furious. Hope's sweet, innocent face twitched more violently
and began to lose it's innocence, well on her way to becoming a hardened
fuckbitch opening her holes shamelessly for the cameras.

	"Do you have any problems with this, cunt?"

	"No, sir! None at all!"

	Kao addressed the naked beauties. He gestured at Kelly.

	"Since the bitch has cast doubt on whether I follow through on my threats,
one of you is about to star in her first, and last, snuff film. It's just a
question of which one sets the example for the rest to learn from."

	The naked beauty queens looked at each other uneasily. Self-centred Vivian,
never one to win a sensitivity award, stared at stupid Kelly.

	"Way to go, fuckhead!"


	Chapter 6 - Snuff Star

	The shamefaced beauty queens squatted in a row on the long table, doing the
Shit Squat while a long line-up of staff (ever watched the movie credits to see
how many 'little people' there are?) opened their holes with oily invasive
fingers. The line on one side of the table parted wet, dripping cuntlips for a
quick finger fuck. After that was done, they went around the end of the table
and back down the other side, happily burying fingers to the knuckle in aching
anuses, giving a few quick, playful twists as they went. Since his cunts didn't
usually last too long, Kao had perfected the art of bringing the fuckmeat up to
speed. His deeply traumatized lovelies rapidly lost any inhibitions, shyness or
sense of shame. What was left of their numbed minds was firmly focussed on what
was between their legs. His combination of a group grope with a gangbang worked
wonders on unwilling wenches.

	While the others were working hard at achieving the Fully Fucked Female look
that Kao valued (who said that being a passive receptacle was the easy part?),
Kelly still dangled from her wrist cuffs. Kao gave her sweating buns an intimate
squeeze, running the edge of his hand up the crack of her ass. Kelly licked her
lips nervously.

	"I'll do anything you want! I admit it! I was fucking stupid! Please! You
don't have to kill anyone just to make a point!"

	"Of course I do! You're still being a stupid cuntbrain."

	Kelly's foxy face flinched.

	"Sorry!"

	Kao's studied her naked body insolently.

	"Ready to open your holes for the cameras while everybody watches?"

	Thinking that this would distract him from his suddenly all-too-believable
death threats, feeling enormous guilt after Vivian's vicious, catty rebuke, her
aching fuckhole still burning from the prod, Kelly quickly agreed.

	"Absolutely! I have no problem with making a fuck flick! That's what I'm
here for!"   
   
	"Good! You can be the timer while the others compete! Loser gets snuffed!"

	His words were like another brutal jolt of the prod. The shapely brunette
was deeply distressed. Also confused.

	"I'm a timer? What's that got to do with opening my holes for the cameras?"

	Kao's crew grinned knowingly. Kao gestured imperiously to the goons. They
lowered Kelly and released her from her cuffs. Kao was curt.

	"Kneel on the floor! Knees spread wide! And wait!"

	Kelly knelt, red-faced, arms at her side. Crouching cameramen took shots of
her swollen cuntlips and focussed thoughtfully on her thin, neatly cut and
trimmed, carefully shampooed and fluffed, strip of brunette pubic hair.

	The opening of the holes was done. The flushed, dripping  beauties still did
the Shit Squat, afraid to do anything else without Kao's express permission. Kao
clapped his hands for attention. He pointed to Tawnee and Vivian.

	"You two bitches lie on your backs on the floor, side by side, five feet
apart."

	Tawnee and Vivian clambered down from the table and lay down as indicated.

	"Palms flat on the ground on either side. Pull your knees up to your chest,
point your toes prettily and spread your legs wide!"

	They spread them, feeling and looking like complete whores. Kao pointed to
Raquel and Hope.

	"You two bitches squat over their faces, close but not touching."

	Tawnee and Vivian each found herself staring up at a swollen, pouty
cuntslit, inches from her face. The smell of baby oil and cunt musk filled their
nostrils.

	"We tie your hands behind your backs."

	Hope and Raquel obediently put their slender wrists together behind them.
Their delicate wrists were strapped together with plastic ties that could only
be cut loose.

	"We put the strangling wires in place so that the loser can be dealt with
promptly."

	The two muscular goons stepped up behind Hope and Raquel and wrapped wire
garottes, a length of wire with a wooden handle on either end, around their pale
white throats. There was dead silence on the set.

	"Now, we load up our two contestants."

	Raquel and Hope flushed a much deeper shade of red as the catheters were
inserted up their piss tubes and syringes of dark yellow beer piss inflated
their bladders. The catheters were removed and they squatted, struggling to
retain bladder control, inches from Tawnee and Vivian's taut faces. Kao assigned
them their roles.

	"You two whores lying on your backs, you lick the squatting bitches' slits
soothingly over and over, from one end to the other. STARTING NOW!"

	Tawnee and Vivian hurriedly started licking as best they could. Kao
encouraged the straining contestants.

	"You, bladder bitches! Help them out! Squat lower!"

	He watched the slit lickers critically.

	"Lick the full length of the slit. Big, long licks!"

	When the two slit lickers were licking the proffered swollen cuntlips like
thirsty dogs lapping up water, he turned his attention to Kelly.

	"Next, we start the timer. If our two contestants can hold their bladders so
that not a drop of urine hits the floor for the length of time it takes the
kneeling bimbo to finish a five-way, they both win! If a single drop of piss
from a bitch hits the floor before the bimbo's finished the five-way, that bitch
is instantly garotted."

	He smiled expansively.

	"So we can have either two winners, two losers or one of each."

	Kelly had a small, little question.

	"What's a five way?"

	"You fuck five men at once! When you finish the last one, you are done, the
time is up, the contest is over and any survivors will be truly grateful. The
losers will, of course, be less than pleased. However, they will be in no
position to complain to you personally! So, the faster you can do the five
fuckers, the better."

	He nodded at the five, powerfully built, stark naked fuckboys. They had been
selected for stamina rather than speed to make everyone sweat hard. Kelly
grunted as one knelt in front of her, made his dick slick with baby oil and
rammed his way into her swollen cunt. The one kneeling behind her slipped his
greased sausage into her shit hole.

	"Two hand jobs are next. Hold your hands straight out at either side, grip
their dicks and start masturbating them."

	The two men standing on either side of Kelly smirked when she wrapped her
slim fingers around their dicks and started pumping.

	"Hang your head over the shoulder of the gentleman in front of you and start
licking the dick of the guy standing behind him."

	Being fucked from front and back, masturbating two men, one with either
hand, Kelly wrapped her lips around the joystick of the fifth fuckboy. She
sucked it like a lollipop. It was a difficult feat of co-ordination: sucking,
pumping two dicks and trying to find a hip motion that satisfied both the
frontdoor and backdoor fuckboy, keeping her fuck hole and shit hole clamped
tight. The cameramen had a good time capturing her pumping fingers, her sucking
lips and licking tongue, her bare breasts squashed against the chest of the
frontdoor fuckboy and both one-eyed worms diving in and out of her stretched
open holes.

	Slit licker Tawnee realized that her straining bladder babe, Raquel, was in
deep trouble early in the game. A delicate, small-boned beauty, Raquel was
obviously unused to any sort of extended muscular exertion. Every square inch of
her delectable skin glistened with the thick oily sweat of one who was merely
very pleasantly shaped flab. Raquel was pasty faced and deep in shock as she
strained desperately to hold it in, going on will-power alone. Her tits quivered
tremulously as she kept whispering the same words over and over, faster and
faster.

	"Oh my God! Oh my God! oh my god ohmygodohmygod
ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod..."

	Her lips blurred the words together frantically. Everyone began to get the
feeling that frail, delicate Raquel just wasn't going to make it.

	Beavering away under a squatting Hope, slit licker Vivian decided that she
was going to try to switch sides. Better to be a fucker than to be fuckmeat or
snuffmeat. She thought that Kao liked her, at least a little. She hadn't mouthed
off or disrespected him. She had noted that his choice of contestants for the
privilege of being snuffed didn't include her. She wasn't being forced to keep
five guys happy at once, like poor, struggling Kelly. Of all the women, Kao had
selected to feel her up first. Priding herself on being a realist, Vivian worked
hard to always be on the winning side. In this case, that was Kao's side. She
figured that her nearest competition was Tawnee. She wondered how she could ace
Tawnee out a bit.

	Hope was distressed and Kao grinned when Vivian began pushing her tongue
further and further into Hope's wet, swollen slit with each lick, parting Hope's
cuntlips with her muscular tongue. Although this placed an extra strain on
Hope's bursting bladder, Vivian didn't give a shit. Stupid Hope wasn't going to
last anyway. If she didn't die now, Vivian had a feeling that Kao would soon
have Hope screaming her way into oblivion for the cameras. He obviously had
Kelly scheduled to be serious fuckmeat, a hard-humping whore buried in sperm. A
brief glance over convinced her that pasty faced, sweat slick, totally
traumatized Raquel muttering hysterically to herself was dead meat. Athletic,
titanic titted Tawnee was definitely the one to beat.

	Vivian arched her back to push her big boobs out and started gaving them an
enchanting little jiggle with each deep lick. She clenched her fists, pumped her
hips lewdly and began to moan softly as if in orgasm. Kao assigned an extra
cameraman to cover all the details of her charming little performance.

	Kelly's was having a bit of luck, starting to get the difficult combination
of rhythms involved in a five-way. Of course her task was simplified as her
rapists unloaded one by one. Her foxy face was sprayed with sperm as the BJ
worked it's wonders. Shortly after, a thick load of bull gravy was pumped into
her bowels.

	Her outspread upper arms felt like they were on fire as she tried to do
justice to the two handjobs. She was deeply grateful when first one and then the
other fountained sperm for the cameras in good strong ejaculations that
splattered a long squirt of semen over her hands and forearms.

	The frontdoor fuckboy stood, lifting her in a muscular display, still
pumping his dick in and out smoothly. Kelly wrapped her legs around him and
stuck her tongue in his mouth. She ran her hands over his powerful torso and
clamped down with her pussy, trying hard to coax the juice from his nuts before
anyone's bladder control evaporated.

	Little patters of sweat dripped from Hope's straining nakedness onto
Vivian's seductively posturing, nubile nudeness. It was tiring putting on the
lewd little fuck show for her personal cameraman. Vivian decided to push things
along. She wrapped her lips around Hope's piss tube and sucked hard. Hope,
straining mightily to hold it in, was taken by surprise at this unexpected
attack. She promptly lost it. Naughty Vivian scooted quickly out of the way as
Hope's piss sprayed out messily. She sat up, scrubbed her face with her hands,
leaned back on her arms to show off her tits, shook her golden tresses and
winked brazenly at Kao. He grinned back. Vivian was definitely his sort of
bitch.

	Hope stared incredulously at her.

	"You b..."

	The garotte was jerked tight. Blood seeped out around the strangling wire as
it ate into her throat. Hope's eyeballs bulged and her tongue protruded as her
face turned purple. She twitched and shuddered, her lovely legs scrambling
wildly across the floor in total unco-ordination as she was choked like a
chicken.

	Raquel stared in horror as Hope emptied her bowels and her protruding,
bloodshot eyes rolled up in her head. She began to cry helplessly as her
straining sphincter muscles gave way and her bladder began to drain. Tawnee
wrapped her lips around Raquel's pisshole, creating a seal.  Bringing her
athletic experience in chugging beer to bear, Tawnee opened her throat and
gulped down Raquel's hot, strong piss, swallowing every drop. She glared
defiantly at Kao.

	"Raquel wins! Not a drop hit the floor!"

	Vivian smirked. From the expression on Kao's face, it looked like smartass
Tawnee had definitely dropped out as competition.

	
	Chapter 7 - A Bitchbuster Is Born

	Vivian spread her legs and Kao rammed his stiff gristle into her hot
honeypot. She locked her ankles together behind his back and clamped down hard,
pumping strongly. She psuhed her tongue between his lips and wrapped it around
his tonsils.

	In the next room Raquel was on her knees, eagerly gobbling the Production
Manager's baby eel. Vivian didn't think that would be a winning strategy. The
slimy little toad would  betray her in a heartbeat, but that was Raquel's
problem. A girl's gotta do as best she can under the circumstances.

	She licked Kao's earhole as he shot a hot wad into her.

	"I want to help you sweat the bitches. I have lots of ideas!"

	Kao was skeptical, but he kept his dick inside her, warm and cosy.

	"Like what?"

	"I bet lots of guys like seeing a babe do the sweating. It's that whole
lesbo thing. Right?"

	Kao grunted. This was true enough.

	"Well! I'm a dynamite babe. I could do it!"

	Kao shrugged indifferently.

	"I have an idea for getting you lots of really hot babes for your flicks!"

	He was definitely interested in that one.

	"I could pretend that I've started a modelling agency. I know lots of
dynamite bimbos from the beauty contests I've been in. My little black book has
their names and numbers because I think that contacts are important! The lazy
bitches all want to be fashion models. I phone them up, tell them I'm running a
modelling agency now and offer them a big paying gig! They know me! Having a
woman as judas goat really works. Lots of women don't really trust guys, but
they're like sheep if their contact is a babe. I mean, you used Mikki to suck us
in, right? Worked like a charm!"

	In the next room, Raquel almost choked as the baby eel spat down her throat.

	A short while later, surrounded by cameramen in the dark, a lone spotlight
focussed on Vivian. She was dressed in a way that Marlene Dietrich would have
applauded.

	Standing confidently in the spotlight, wearing a top hat and tails, thigh
high black stockings, spike heels and nothing else, Vivian twirled her black
cane for the cameras, child's play for a former cheerleader. The front of the
jacket was cut back to show off her big bouncing boobs. She kept her legs
slightly parted so that her cuntlips were clearly visible along with her whispy
blond pubic curls. She smiled brightly at the camera.

	"Hi! Welcome to Painhouse! I'm Bitchbuster. My first bitch is Big T!"

	Tawnee, wearing a black kimono with a red dragon on the back, stepped into
the spotlight with obvious reluctance. She tottered a bit, unused to the six
inch stiletto heels, and looked at Vivian sullenly.

	"Big T! Tell everyone what happens if you don't do just exactly what I tell
you to!"

	Tawnee looked at her sullenly.

	"Some guys hold me down, ram an electric prod up my cunt and spark it inside
me."

	Vivian looked offstage.

	"Toss me one of those pussy prods so everyone can see what we're talking
about here!"

	Vivian deftly snatched it out of the air as it sailed by. She held the long,
slim electric probe up and snapped it repeatedly for the cameras.

	"How's that for a motivator, eh?"

	She tossed it back and addressed Tawnee.

	"Now that we understand your character's motivation, let's get on with the
performance!"

	She ganced down at her own bare boobs and naked cunt.

	"Looks like you're a little over-dressed for the part. Lose the kimono and
show everyone what you've got!"

	Pretending indifference, Tawnee shrugged off the kimono. It slid down her
body and onto the floor. She stood nude for the cameras. Kao had made sure that
her bladder was fully inflated for the occasion. Tawnee was studiedly nonchalant
and gave nothing away about it, superb at masking her inner struggles.

	"Wow! Now we know why you're called Big T! Look at the size of those melons!
Spread your legs a bit and show everyone your moneymaker!"

	Tawnee spread them.

	"Hands behind your back!"

	Vivian tied Tawnee's thumbs tightly together behind her, leaving her fingers
waggling free but useless. Another spotlight opened up, focussed on a stool with
a long, thick greased dildo fastened to and projecting up from the middle of the
seat. Vivian smiled very brightly at Tawnee.

	"Oh look! A very special seat for Big T!"

	Vivian grinned wickedly.

	"Straddle that and wrap your cuntlips around it, Big T!"

	Vivian batted her baby blues coyly at Tawnee, eyeing her nude form brazenly,
licking her lips lewdly.

	"I picked it personally, just for you!"

	Tawnee inspected the grotesquely oversized dildo sourly. She looked at
Vivian with disgust.
	
	"I'm surprised that none of the losers a bimbo like you must go out with
never told you that bigger isn't necessarily better! You're definitely
over-reacting to all those pencil-dicked geeks you've been fucking."

	Vivian picked up a ball gag. Tawnee arched her eyebrows sardonically.

	"Is the pressure of this conversation getting to be too much for you?"

	Vivian smiled very sweetly indeed.

	"Actually, it's to keep you from biting! Open wide!"

	Tawnee opened her mouth and Vivian popped in the bright red ball gag and
buckled it in place. Vivian patted the seat of the stool, her whole face one big
dirty smirk.

	"Big T! Everybody wants to see you straddle this monster! Go for it!"

	Tawnee hesitated. Vivian encouraged her gagged, smart-mouthed guest of
honour.

	"Would you prefer the pussy prod?"

	Tawnee sighed. She straddled the stool and lowered herself. Her cuntlips
were parted by the cold, slimy monster dildo. She shuddered as it slithered up
her love canal.

	Vivian's eyes gleamed.

	"Is it all the way in, Big T?"

	She squatted down and had a good look at the clearance between Tawnee's
cuntlips and the seat of the stool.

	"You've got a bit farther to go! Lift your feet up off the floor. Touch 
your thighs to your nipples. That should seat you nicely!"

	Tawnee groaned as she impaled herself fully, raising her knees so that her
jiggling nipples kissed the tops of her thighs.

	"All nice and comfy?"

	Tawnee moaned and Vivian sniggered.

	"I'm going to fold your legs back and tie your ankles to the back rung of
the stool. Then you'll be ready for action!"

	Vivian tied Tawnee's ankles to the back rung.

	"Don't worry about tipping over the stool, Big T! It's bolted to the floor."

	Vivian looked at Tawnee's tits critically and grinned.

	"I bet I can tweak them up a bit!"

	She bent over and sucked one of  Tawnee's big cherry nipples into her mouth.
Tawnee screamed as Vivian bit down, not enough to puncture with her teeth, but
certainly enough to bruise. She worked the other nipple with her teeth until
both Tawnee's teat were swollen and protruding nicely.

	"There! That's much better!"

	Raquel, wearing only high heels and a slave choker, sauntered out, wiggling
and jiggling delectably. She handed Vivian a roll of plastic cling wrap. Vivian
slapped her rump playfully and she scooted back off. Offstage, she squatted
down, unzipped him and began giving the Production Manager's baby eel yet
another lip massage.

	Vivian unrolled a length of cling wrap.

	"Now for the fun!"

	She wrapped the clear plastic cling wrap around Tawnee's head several times,
sealing her nostrils and lips.

	"You see what I meant about not being allowed to bite!"

	Naked, generously over-endowed Tawnee began putting on a real jiggle show as
she writhed and squirmed, impaled on the stool. She rode up and down the dildo a
bit, but didn't have enough travel and leverage to get off it. She moaned and
groaned in misery, her lungs burning. Tawnee's overburdened bladder emptied,
soaking the seat of the stool and dripping onto the floor.

	As Tawnee writhed sinuously on the dildo, Vivian swarmed around her in top
hat and tails, hefting Tawnee's titanic tits, twisting her nipples, squeezing
her buttocks and playfully pinching her cuntlips and clit with her long, sharp
nails. Tawnee squealed and bellowed frantically. After two minutes of
increasingly desperate writhings, Vivian thoughtfully picked at the edge of the
cling wrap with her fingernails, unwrapped it from Tawnee's sweat-soaked,
beet-red face, balled it up and threw it away.

	Tawnee's big bosom heaved as she inhaled cool, soothing oxygen into her hot,
aching lungs. Vivian picked up the roll of cling wrap and pulled off another
section. She smiled brightly.

	"That was fun! We'll just wait until Big T catches her breath a bit and then
we'll do it again and again and again! Let's see if I can get her to shit
herself!" 

	Tawnee, her eyes huge, moaned in fear.

	In the next studio, Kao's Production Manager had been given permission to
film a scene for the BIMBO-LICIOUS fuck flick. Watching Kelly do the five-way
had given Raquel an idea for making Kelly do a bi-sexual seven-way. In between
sessions of coaxing spit from his baby eel, Raquel had helpfully confided her
idea to the slimy little toad. A Master Suck-Up who knew who to suck, what to
suck and how hard to suck, the slimy little toad had presented this as his own
idea to the powers that be. He had been given the go-ahead. He loved the way
Raquel gave a little choke as his baby eel spat his small, but powerful
ejaculations down her throat. Sucking up to the suck-up was working out for the
desperate, high maintenance, small-boned babe.

	The first fuckboy lay on his back, his well-oiled penis erect. Kelly lowered
herself on top face-up as well, wrapping her rectum around his greasy sausage.
The next fuckboy lay on top and slipped his slimy snake into her fuckhole. She
masturbated two laying-down fuckboy with her feet and two kneeling ones with her
hands. The one on top of Kelly arched his back. Raquel came out and earned her
keep by sitting on Kelly's face. The top fuckboy had his face buried between
Raquel's breasts.

	Raquel was encouraging as she half smothered Kelly with her cunt.

	"Come on, Kelly! You can do it! Look at this poor guy on top! He's almost
breaking his back and smothering between my tits! Don't make him do all the
work! Pump your hips, girl! Work those toes! Grip snugly with those pretty
little fingers and pump your hands up and down!"

	She looked down between her thighs at poor gasping Kelly, working hard to
master this major feat of hand-eye-foot-mouth-cunt-rectal motor co-ordination.

	"Oh, and remember to breath!"

	Everybody but Kelly chuckled.
 
	A few days later, in New York City, Sandy answered the phone. She was
sitting on the edge of the bed next to her twin sister Mandy. High breasted
beauties, the two fabulous blonds  were gloriously naked with their long lovely
legs spread. Between their parted thighs, each had her boyfriend of the moment
beavering away, his face buried in her crotch, licking and sucking skilfully.
Sandy and Mandy saw eye to eye on the importance of keeping their men busy
picking pubic hairs out from between their teeth. If a man wasn't a
dyed-in-the-wool muff diver, the twins weren't interested.

	Sandy chatted cheerfully on the phone while Mr. Muff Barker licked and
sucked between her legs.

	"Vivian! Nice to hear from you! You're running your own modelling agency? A
big, secret shoot? Wow! That's a lot of money! You want both of us? When and
where?"

	She nodded her head vigorously, winking at Mandy who was listening with
interest.

	"Sure! No problem! We'll be there!"

	She hung up. Mr. Muff Barker looked up from his canyon yodeling.

	"What was that about?"

	His beard and moustache were soaked and dripping pussy juice. She ruffled
his hair teasingly and pushed his face back into her crotch. Men were fools, but
they had their uses. She loved the way his moustache tickled as she scrubbed her
cunt over his hairy face. She rebuked him playfully.

	"I didn't say that you were done yet!"

	Mr. Muff Barker wasn't that interested in girl talk anyway. His tongue
flicked over Sandy's stiff clit and he went back to having a serious
conversation with the canoe driver.

	When the muff divers had washed their faces and left, Mandy was curious.

	"Vivian's running her own modelling agency now?"

	"Yup! She's running this secret fashion shoot down at the docks. It's on
some huge container ship called the Pussy Maru!"

	"The Pussy Maru! Great name! So she wants us to model on this big ship?"

	"Yup! Big bucks, too! We have to keep it secret because they don't want
other people stealing their idea of shooting a fashion video on a cargo ship."

	"So when is this?"

	"Four in the morning, tomorrow. Bright and early when no one is up and
about! They do it then because they don't want any gawkers and also to keep it a
secret."

	Mandy grinned.

	"Whoopee! The big time at last!"

	Sandy held her finger up to her luscious lips.

	"Mum's the word!"

	"My lips are sealed!"

	"Knowing you, they're probably sealed around some guy's cock!" 		     

	Section 7 - The Chinese Connection

	Chapter 1 - Opening The Pink Blossom

	Ai-Ling almost made it.

	The communist authorities captured her just as she was about to board a
plane for Bangkok from Hong Kong. She was promptly shipped to the Tender Willow
Clinic for the hardest grinding possible. The Chinese government had already
billed the station manager's family for the bullet that had blown his brains
out. As the organiser behind the hard-hitting (and totally unauthorized)
television documentaries detailing government corruption, Ai-ling's fate was
different and much more elaborate. Ai-Ling was to linger.

	Ai-Ling had been travelling on a legitimate American passport that she
had purchased from one of the 'snakeheads' who specialized in smuggling humans
out of China. No one knew at the time what had happened to the legitimate
American who owned the passport, but a quick-thinking official made sure that
Pamela Pureheart was registered on the computer as having boarded the flight so
that any investigation into the missing American beauty would focus on sleazy
Bangkok. Lots of dubious characters to investigate there. The Chinese Communists
didn't want to offend their profitable American friends.

	The real Pamela Pureheart was discovered two weeks later, putting in an
eighteen hour shift in the Pink Blossom whore house. The Secret Policemen
watched through the hidden cameras as the lovely American opened her pink
blossom for a patron. The whoremaster had trained her well. Pretty Pammie shook
her shimmering golden blond hair, pointed her lovely little toes beautifuly,
smiled in total enchantment at her customer, shook her tits playfully and licked
her lips coyly, the perfect hedonistic harlot. She lay back on the bed in her
narrow cubicle, spread her shapely legs invitingly and pumped her hips lewdly.

	The customer, a slobbering fatboy with a warty, pockmarked face that
only a fear-trained whore could love, rammed his thick, drooling pile-driver
home. The American beauty locked her dainty ankles behind his back and began
pumping hard, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

	The whoremaster had kidnapped Pam and sold her passport to the snakehead
who, in turn, had sold it, at a handsome profit, to Ai-Ling. He was
understandably nervous. The mainland Chinese didn't have a Hong Kong
appreciation for free enterprise. He spun his tale for the two skeptical Secret
Policemen.

	"See? The American is perfectly happy. She is a rich girl, never worked
a day in her life! Now she is discovering the dignity of labour!"

	Although this appealed to their socialist instincts, the Secret
Policemen had very grave doubts as they watched her swap spit and work the hairy
oracle with fatboy. On the other hand, neither of them spoke enough English to
check it out. In any event, an official interview with the American beauty would
be a serious problem. The American was a huge political embarassment if she
surfaced. If they didn't talk to her officially, they allowed the government
plausible deniability. At least this way, she was contributing to the Chinese
economy. Since the building of The Great Wall at the command of Emperor Chin,
the Chinese have been great believers in the cost effectiveness of slave labour.

	They inquired tactfully if she had played 'wet the wild weasel' with any
Americans. As they suspected, this was the very last thing the whoremaster
wanted. She was prime pussy, too good for foreigners, he explained glibly.
Although she spoke no Chinese, sucky-fuck was a universal language. She greatly
preferred playing 'rat up the drainpipe' with a Chinese rat. They had bigger
rats and serious stamina. The Secret Policemen nodded solemnly. Like many
Chinese, they believed in their race's innate superiority in all things.

	The whoremaster talked quietly to the Secret Policeman with the more
obvious boner. The following night, he was going to hang the delicate American
beauty by her wrists, stark naked, and have her strapped hard for the
delectation of a paying crowd of visiting Japanese businessmen. It was what the
Japanese called a 'gattsu drill', a guts test. The naked American beauty would
get extra strokes if she screamed. There was serious gambling on whether she was
going to scream and, if so, on what stroke. Would the esteemed Secret Police
like a free ride to help them decide on her sensitivity and stamina?

	The Secret Policeman grinned and beckoned his buddy over. The Chinese
love a good wager. After pretty Pammie put in two more sperm-winning
performances to what were, to her, simply two more in a very long string of
hard, horny customers, they placed their bets. To Pam, they were just two more
Chinese dicks emptying themselves into her spermhole. They all looked alike to
the lovely American rich girl turned goat milker.

	After zipping up, the Secret Policemen got serious.

	"After tomorrow's entertainment, she must disappear - permanently!
Understand?"

	The whoremaster nodded solemnly.

	"I will perform this patriotic duty!"

	The Secret Policemen were not satisfied with his patently non-existent
sincerity. The whoremaster could look earnest, in a self-interested sort of way,
but sincerity was too great a stretch. 

	"If you do not, your family will be billed for a bullet!"

	The Secret Policemen stared at him with cruel, slitted eyes.

	"If she surfaces anywhere and causes any embarassment to us, you will
find out there are worse things than a bullet. In comparison to what will happen
to you, a bullet would be merciful!"

	The whoremaster swallowed hard.

	"I understand completely. The body will never be found!"

	The Secret Policemen looked at him hard and then nodded, satisfied with
the seamy brutality and self-interest the sweating whoremaster radiated. They
slapped him on the back.

	"OK! Tomorrow night, she screams and perhaps makes us some money. After
that, she vanishes like smoke!"

	"Absolutely!"

	The policemen left.

	The whoremaster made a few phone calls. There was no reason he couldn't
make a nice sleazy deal and build some goodwill while arranging for pretty Pam's
disposal. The people in Hamburg paid well for disposable meat and he thought he
knew how to get her there.

	He phoned his yakuza buddies. The rumour was true. It just so happened
that they were making a shipment. The container ship Pussy Maru was pulling into
Hong Kong and, provided the American was as prime as he said she was, she could
join the latest shipment of unwilling beauties on their final voyage to one of
the most celebrated pervert capitals of the world - Hamburg, Germany. Not as
good as Bangkok, in the whoremaster's opinion, but a lot farther away.

	

	Chapter 2 - Tiger Team

	Deep in the bowels of the Wonderful Way Learning Centre, Lily Leung
looked down the row of Tiger Beds that the male members of the news team were
spread-eagled on.

	A country that has hushed up technological disasters greater than
Chernobyl prides itself on it's tight control of the media. The story of the
Hunan Dam disaster, with far greater loss of life and destruction of property
than Chernobyl, only emerged slowly many years later when it had no news value
to the west. Ai-Ling's efforts to supply western style news stories was a severe
embarassment indeed, to be dealt with as harshly and brutally as possible.

	A Tiger Bed is basically a wooden door laid flat, held off the floor by
short wooden legs. A handcuff attached to each corner secures the wrists and
ankles of it's naked occupant. A hole is cut in the middle of each door for the
victim to piss and shit through, so they can be kept in misery on the Tiger Bed
for a long, long time, totally dependent on their keeper for food, water,
everything.

	The overheated, windowless cell stank of sweat, piss, shit and vomit,
but Lily didn't mind at all. It told her that the tenants were working hard on
their 're-education'. 'Tiger' Lily smiled sweetly at the chief cameraman and
squatted down next to him. She was warmly sympathetic.

	"The first time was the easiest, eh? After that, it's much more
difficult since everything's sensitive, bruised and swollen."

	Lily was reassuring.

	"I'm sure that you're man enough to handle it!"

	She gripped his scrotum and gave his grotesquely swollen testicles a
good, hard squeeze, crushing them together, rolling them agonizingly against
each other with a vice-like grip. She had spent her peasant youth milking cows
the old-fashioned way, by hand. The cameraman's eyes bulged and his face
contorted as her strong fingers worked his bruised ball bag agonizingly, but no
sound escaped him. At last, she relented and patted his sweating face
affectionately.

	"Very good! I knew you could do it! You get some water."

	She poured a few thimblefuls between his parched lips. The cells were
roasting hot during the day, but only abominably hot at night. The cameraman
sucked up every drop thirstily. He stuck his tongue into the thimble to try and
lick out every last molecule of moisture.

	Lily spent a few minutes chatting amiably with the cameraman about when
she could schedule a surgeon to have his eyeballs removed.

	Once she had the cameraman quaking nicely, she moved to the next bed.
The sound man eyed her with bone deep dread. She smiled sweetly and reached
between his legs with her strong, knowing milkmaid fingers. She gave him a long,
brutally vicious squeeze. He was panting hard by the time she released him, but
he won his few thimblefuls of water. The sound man, a part-time musician, had a
complete mental meltdown during the chat about having his eardrums burst with a
long needle. His urine spurted in a pretty yellow arc and his bowels emptied
messily into the overflowing bowl through the hole in his Tiger Bed. Lily made
absolutely no effort to empty the shitpots. Why bother? It just added to the
delicate ambience in the hot cell. 

	Next to the gibbering sound man, the anchorman, 'Pretty Boy' Choi, was
sobbing and whimpering pitifully. Lily looked at him sympathetically.

	"Worried about losing your tongue? Don't! The surgeon can't come around
until the end of next week at the earliest!"

	She cupped his scrotum lightly in the palm of her hand, bouncing his
swollen nuts gently. She coaxed him softly, urging him to manliness.

	"Losing your tongue is in the future! What you should worry about now is
the testicle squeeze! You must concentrate on being absolutely quiet during it,
so that your precious vocal cords can receive some much needed water. Crying
just makes it worse, you know!"

	He stopped sobbing and, pasty faced and sweating, went silent,
struggling hard to be a man and not a pretty-boy TV wimp. Handsome face. Lovely
voice. Nothing upstairs. Lily milked him long and hard. Sweat glistened on his
anguished, contorted features. He was red-faced and hyperventilating by the time
Lily's strong, experienced fingers were finished crushing his twin sperm
spawners. She gave him his thimblefuls of water and smiled seraphically at him.

	"Very good, Pretty Boy! I knew you could do it! The Chinese government
dislikes nosy reporters talking to everyone about government corruption. Just
because you are far from Beijing doesn't mean you can say and do anything! It is
important for you to learn respect for the Glorious People's Government! You
don't represent the People! The Government does. Do what the Glorious People's
Government says, show respect and there will be no problem!"

	Pretty Boy gave up on the impossibilty of 'being a man' and blubbered
hysterically, his normally low resonant voice high, tight and hoarse with tears.

	"It wasn't my idea! It was that bitch Ai-Ling! She thought of it! She
pushed for it! She went to America and was corrupted by capitalist ideas! She
made everyone else do it!"

	Lily gave his limp penis a vicious pinch with her long scarlet
fingernails. Pretty Boy gasped. She spoke to him reproachfully, impatient with
men trying to blame everything on women. 

	"You didn't say no, did you? A real man is responsible for his own
actions! You were silent during the testicle squeeze and yet you lacked the
willpower to simply say no to this woman?"

	She delicately spread the end of his penis and thoughtfully scraped the
inside of his piss-tube with her long, sharp pinky nail. Pretty Boy screamed
like a woman.

	"Now, whenever you pee, you will think of the error of your ways and
your weakness in not resisting Ai-Ling's foolish suggestions!"

	She cocked her head coquettishly.

	"Or perhaps you'll be thinking of me!"

	Lily laughed merrily and then got back to business. It was important to
give her victims something to look forward to, a future. She spoke warmly to her
three spread-eagled, quaking victims.

	"Next time, gentlemen, I will bring a hatpin and I will discuss with
each of you how many times I will stab and scrape your rectum with it. You all
deserve it in varying degrees, so it's just a question of how much is
appropriate! Zero is not a number to even think about! If you guess wrong, you
earn some extra stabs depending on how far off you are!  Remember, it's almost
impossible to keep an asshole clean, so the danger of infection is severe! I use
the same needle on everyone, so there is also the danger of getting AIDS."

	She smiled sweetly as she pulled the door shut behind her.

	"Sleep well, gentlemen!"

	
	Chapter 3 - Tiger Tails

	Ear-splittingly amplified, the sayings of Chairman Mao, chanted to the
disco beat, reverbrated through the cell. This had been a big hit back in the
seventies. Lily entered the cell and, to everyone's relief, turned it off.

	Lily smiled at the three naked women spread-eagled on their tiger beds.
She held up the sawed-off broomstick handle, slick with blood. Her captives
looked at it fearfully.

	"Time for your pussy pump, ladies. You must atone for your misdeeds!"

	The Scriptwriter was anxious. A sturdy, big breasted peasant type, her
broad face twitched nervously.

	"When will our atonement be over? Ai-Ling lied to us! She said it was
The New Way!"

	Lily was politely sceptical.

	"Since when is dumping on The Party and denigrating it's officials ever
going to be The New Way?"

	The Scriptwriter, to whom unquestioning obedience to authority was a way
of life, was clearly unused to thinking for herself. Sucking up to The Party was
all she knew.

	"But Ai-Ling said it was The New Way! She was in charge! She was
appointed by The Party!"

	Lily snorted derisively.

	"An obvious mistake! It was your clear duty to report her!"

	The Scriptwriter was earnest.

	"I will never make such a mistake again!"

	Lily believed her. This, of course, made absolutely no difference. She
held up the bloody broomstick handle and asked the Scriptwriter a skill-testing
question.

	"What is the purpose of the twenty pussy pumps you are about to
experience?"

	To the Scriptwriter, the pussy pump was a brutally invasive, agonizing,
filthy, disgusting, totally traumatic experience. She couldn't imagine an up
side to it. Lily encouraged her to thought, in her own charming way.

	"You get five extra for being wilfully stupid and unco-operative! Think!
Do you want five more?"

	"NO!"

	Lily arched an eyebrow.

	"Well?"

	The scriptwriter, totally panic-stricken, could think of nothing. Her
mouth gaped open, but nothing coherent emerged.

	"Uh, um, er..."

	The young Researcher spread-eagled next to her piped up helpfully.

	"Being pussy pumped while keeping our stupid mouths shut and not making
a sound teaches us will-power!"

	Lily turned on her fiercely.

	"Was I talking to you?"

	The Researcher's pretty eyes were huge as she gibbered her
panic-stricken response.

	"No!"

	"You should get ten extra for NOT keeping your stupid mouth shut! How
can she learn if you feed her answers?"

	She smiled sweetly at the Scriptwriter.

	"Are you ready for your thirty pumps?"

	The Scriptwriter's broad peasant face crumpled. Tears trickling down her
apple cheeks, she nodded and whimpered pathetically. Lily held a finger to the
poor woman's trembling lips.

	"Shhhh!"

	She rammed the bloody broomstick handle up the Scriptwriter's cunt and
twisted hard. The Scriptwriter shreiked and blubbered hoarsely. Lily was firm.

	"Too much noise! No water for you!"

	In and out, Lily powered through the other 29 pumps until the broomstick
was slick with the Scriptwriter's blood and the woman was babbling and bawling
hysterically. She turned to the trembling Researcher, a nubile young beauty
fresh from University. She ran a finger lightly over the Researcher's tight
slit. The young beauty stared up in total terror, her eyes huge. 'Tiger' Lily
was the most powerful woman she had ever met. Lily leant over and licked her
ear.

	"I'm saving you until last! Do you mind?"

	The young beauty swallowed hard.

	"Uh, no. Take as long as you want!"

	Lily snorted and moved to the next sweating woman, a pudgy accountant.
She wrapped her fingers in the woman's thick, black pubic hair and looked at her
coyly.

	"Do you want to go to bed with me in return for no pussy pumps?"

	Hope sprang up in the desperate woman's eyes.

	"Yes! Yes! I'll do anything you want!"

	The woman squealed as Lily cruelly ripped out a swatch of her pubic
hair.

	"Attempted bribery of a Party Official! That'll be 50 pussy pumps! Feel
free to scream all you want. There's no water for spineless traitors like you!"

	Lily rammed in the broomstick handle as deeply as possible and stirred
vigorously. The pudgy accountant quivered like jello and shreiked like a
banshee. Lily pulled it out.

	"That's one!"

	The pretty Researcher peed herself, her pisswater spattering noisily
into the bucket underneath her tiger bed, as she listened to the pudgy
accountant scream and shreik until her vocal cords tore and the snot was running
from her nose. The air became thick with the coppery smell of comingled blood
and fear-sweat as Lily reamed the gibbering accountant out, slowly, savagely,
with brutal thoroughness.

	Shortly afterward, the Researcher had her pretty face gratefully buried
in Lily's wet, dripping cunt. Her fingers gently peeled back the hood from
Lily's tumescent love nubbin as she ran her tongue over Lily's engorged, fully
distended labia. Her wet pink tongue flickered out and licked the red nub shyly.

	Sex and violence! The perfect combination. Lily grinned and stroked her
new pet's hair. She loved exercises of raw power. She decided to exercise some
now. She lifted the Researcher's pretty face.

	"From now on your name is Chu Yu! Understand?"

	Chu Yu nodded.

	"My new name is Chu Yu to go with my new life as your body slave."

	Lily sighed ecstatically as she allowed the newly christened Chu Yu to
resume her dainty, delectable carpet munching.

	
	Chapter 4 - Fresh Meat
	
	Lily went to assist in processing the Falun Gong student protesters at
the loading dock. Chu Yu followed behind at a respectful two paces.

	The Chinese socialist medical system had failed and they now charged
user fees that few poor people could afford. Communist China is filled with poor
people courtesy of the massively corrupt, intensely cynical, monumentally
inefficient government bureaucracy that runs everything. Falun Gong sprang up to
fill the gap left by the failed socialist health care system. It offered simple
exercises both mental and physical, promising thereby to promote good health. 
Even if the gentle mental and physical exercises did no good, they did no harm.
The placebo effect is well known. Merely believing that something works
apparently cures some people, so Falun Gong enjoyed some success. This curious
effect is completely ignored and denigrated by the capitalist system, since
there is no way to profit from people simply healing themselves by an effort of
will. Because the mere existence of Falun Gong was a reproach to the Communist
system, highlighting a spectacular failure in the 'worker's paradise', it had to
be suppressed as quickly and brutally as possible. Foreign protesters were
politely arrested and deported. The locals received a much more thorough,
painstaking 're-education' at places like the Wonderful Way Learning Centre.

	The back doors of the truck opened. Ping Li and the other young female
protesters were lying on their backs, lined up neatly in a row, having felt
every bone-jarring bounce of the rough, poorly maintained roads through the
galvanized steel truck bed. When the soldiers had come, Ping Li had insisted
that the Falun Gong literature was hers. It was actually her poor arthritic
grandmother's. Since she had the same name as her grandmother, this helped
further the confusion. Ping Li loved her grandmother and didn't think the sweet,
pain-ridden old woman would survive the 're-education' process. She was a
strong-willed girl and prepared to tough it out. She didn't mind doing what she
had to do. What Ping Li found she really hated was the dogs.

	In the truck, a drooling attack dog stood over each protester, staring
intently into her fearful face, getting excited each time she twitched or even
blinked her eyes. The fierce dogs had no problem with their unblinking victims
peeing in their pants or unloading in their panties. Ping Li and the others
didn't discover this on the long hard ride until the unhappy end of a desperate
struggle with bladder and bowel control. Nobody had bothered to tell them that
they were expected to soil themselves. There was a good, logical, typically
Chinese reason for this. It would be waste effort to do so. The bitches would
find out anyway.

	After a silent, desperate, bladder-bursting struggle, Ping Li had peed
her panties. It was the high point of the ride. The fact that the dog did
nothing was a huge relief, the release of the straining agony on her exploding
bladder was stupendous and the sudden warmth at her crotch was faintly
comforting. She would have sobbed with relief, but the dog wouldn't allow it.

	The battle with her bowels had quite a different smell to it. Ping Li
bitterly regretted having eaten so much roughage in her last meal and clenched
her buttocks tightly. It was hot and sweaty in the truck which made the
dehydrated victims squeeze out a painfully dry turd. After a humiliating
struggle to contain herself, Ping Lee felt the snake whose skin is all teeth
slither out her aching anus and curl up inside her soggy panties. Her guard dog
sniffed and growled in satisfaction.

	The guard dogs had been changed half-way through the long trip so, for a
few heart-stopping moments each protester was staring at two tense, drooling
devil dogs. The dogs were valuable, so they were watered and fed, allowed to
lift a leg when necessary. The protesters were afforded no such consideration,
so they travelled ravenous and parched, reeking of urine and feces. When the
guard dogs changed shift, the departing dogs had to be rewarded for their
labours.

	The handlers had ordered the guard dog to sit. It sat, knowing the
drill, wagging it's tail expectantly. Ping Li's blouse was ripped open and her
bra was cut off. Her bare, apple-sized breasts were smeared with meat paste.
Ping Li whimpered as the brutal guard dog growled, slobbered and nipped as it
licked up it's reward, snarling fiercely in warning if she made the smallest
move to protect herself from the vicious, slavering beast.

	The handlers moved down the line doing each protester one at a time,
ripping open her blouse, cutting off her bra exposing a quivering pair of
breasts and nipples, smearing the trembling tits with meat paste and then giving
the sharp toothed dogs a good slurp at a pair of meat covered mammaries. The
last protester was panting hard and shivering uncontrollably in fear by the time
it was her turn.

	The departing dogs were all encouraged to lift a leg and pee on the
protester they had been guarding for hours. The new dogs, of course, had to pee
to mark their new territory, so the protesters got to enjoy two face-fulls of
dog piss before they resumed their journey. Ping Li kept her lips shut tight.
Her pretty face flinched as the she received the strong-smelling dog piss full
in the face. The powerful yellow stream flooded over her fully exposed tits. The
new guard dog bared it's long sharp teeth and growled down at her viciously.
Ping Li began her long unblinking stare upwards at the glaring beast as the trip
resumed.

	On arrival at the Wonderful Way Learning Centre, the truck doors were
opened and the Ping Li's dog was relieved of duty. Ping Li was hustled out of
the truck and her elbows tied behind her back to either end of a bamboo pole,
forcing her to arch her exposed breasts up and out. She was knocked roughly to
her knees, her pretty, pissed on face pushed to the ground, rump in the air. Her
pee stained pants and shit laden panties were pulled down. The beautiful, eager
to please Chu Yu, having been promoted to Trusty, wiped the proferred bum and
cuntlips with a wet wipe, more out of consideration for the dog than the
protester. Ping Li's guard dog was then given it's reward for a job well done.

	As the eager beast's glistening pink penis unsheathed, Ping Li lost it
completely,  whimpering in fear, trying vainly to crawl away, pinned in place by
the handlers. She froze at a heart-stopping warning growl from the fierce beast.
Like all dogs, it liked it's bitches absolutely motionless, providing a stable
platform for it's reproductive efforts.

 	Pretty Ping cried out as the beast mounted her and, with the skill of
long practice, rammed it's doggie gristle home. The knot at the base of the big
dog's dick swelled inside her cunt, locking the happy humper in place.

	The massive, drooling beast pumped long and hard, dribbling slobber down
the back of her neck. Ping Li, impaled on the dog's dick, trapped by the thick
swollen knot at the base of the dog's penis, incapable of doing anything else,
humped helplessly right along. Joined at the crotch, rocking rhythmically with
the rutting beast's fierce thrusts, eyes shut tight, she moaned and sobbed
desolately in utter rapebitch misery.

	The staff gathered to watch the new bitches get raped over by the fierce
dogs, a popular entertainment. The other protesters lay on the metal floor of
the van, bone dry eyeballs locked in an aching, unblinking stare with their
slavering future rapists, grimly awaiting their turn to be fucked over.

	With a deafening series of happy barks two inches from it's fucktoy's
ear, the big dog unloaded. Everyone waited a few moments while the knot locking
it's dick inside Ping Li's raw throbbing cunt deflated. That done, the massive
dog pulled free. An hysterical Ping Li was kept pinned in place as a yummy
cheese reward was rammed into her cunt. The dog nosed in with it's snout and dug
deep with it's long tongue to retrieve the tasty treat.

	That done, the happy beast was led off and it's sobbing, deeply
traumatized victim jerked to her feet. With her soggy pants and soiled panties
down around her ankles, doggy cum dribbling down her inner thighs, Ping Li
shuffled into the centre. As the next nubile victim was unloaded from the truck,
frozen with fear, stiff from the bone jarring ride, blinking hard, moving like
an arthritic old woman, the staff mocked her.

	"Falun gong! It's good for your health! It can even get you laid!"


	Chapter 5 - Welcome To The Fun House

	On her knees, her pretty face buried in Lily's muff, Chu Yu beavered
away. Her lubricated fingers dipped into Lily's cunt, palm up. She hooked her
fingers and gently massaged Lily's G-spot, inside, as she daintily flicked her
tongue over Lily's engorged clit, outside. Lily loved Chu Yu's soft velvety
tongue. The simultaneous G-spot massage didn't go amiss either. She closed her
eyes and groaned, floating ecstatically on waves of multi-orgasmic bliss.

	After an indecently long interval, Lily was done and they showered
together. They went to visit the Scriptwriter on their way to assist in
processing the cream of the Falun Gong protesters.
 
	The Scriptwriter, spread-eagled on her Tiger Bed, sobbed in relief when
Lily told her that she was to be released from the bed. The Scriptwriter babbled
foolish gratitude as Chu Yu used wet wipes between the Scriptwriter's legs,
carefully cleaning the folds of the labia, removing encrusted feculence from her
rectum. The Scriptwriter bawled like a baby as the four cuffs were undone that
held her on the Tiger Bed and she was, at last, free to move her swollen, aching
joints. The relief was psychologically stupendous, physically agonizing.

	She stood dizzily and uncomplainingly as her wrists were bound behind
her back. She stared uncomprehendingly as a slim noose was looped around the
base of each of her heavy breasts. She shreiked harsh and high like a Chinese
Opera Singer as the nooses were brutally tightened and she was hoisted up onto
the tips of her toes. Her strangled breasts felt like they were being ripped
from her chest as they congested and turned purple.

	After listening to her bellow hoarsely for a while, enjoying the scream
music, Lily lowered her victim until her heels just barely touched the ground.

	"What valuable lesson does this teach you?"

	The Scritpwriter's broad peasant face was, once more, a study in
confusion and desperation.

	"I don't know! I'm just a stupid peasant woman who knows nothing!"

	Lily was encouraging.

	"You were sent here to learn! To be re-educated! If you can tell me what
this teaches, I won't have to hoist you up again! You'll have learned your
lesson!"

	Totally exhausted, in extreme pain, deep in shock, her small mind frozen
completely, the Scriptwriter's face crumpled pathetically as she wailed in
misery.

	"I don't know!"

	Lily turned to her velvet tongued lap licker.

	"What lesson does this teach, Chu Yu?"

	Chu Yu looked at the Scriptwriter disdainfully.

	"It's obvious! It teaches how painful exaggeration and distortion can
be!"

	"Exactly!"

	Lily nodded approvingly as she hoisted the screaming Scriptwriter back
up so that her desperately scrabbling toes completely left the floor. Lily spun
the dangling woman round and round, twisting the two noose ropes together. After
winding her up nice and tight, she released her. The spinning, dangling
Scriptwriter screamed higher than ever before as she unwound with
ever-increasing speed. Momentum carried her onwards and the two noose ropes
wound up again. She twisted around and around, shreiking maniacally, bare legs
kicking wildly, her intertwined breast nooses winding up and then unwinding.

	Hand in hand, fingers linked romantically, Chu Yu's head rested lovingly
on Lily's shoulder. Lily and Chu Yu listened to the scream music a bit longer.
After the screams had died down to a series of hoarse, raw croaks, they moved on
to help process the cream of the protesters, leaving the Scriptwriter dangling
by her tits, blubbering like a colicky baby.

	Ping Li was the last of the specially chosen Falun Gong student
protesters to be hustled onto her gynecology table. Stark naked, her long lovely
legs were spread wide and her pretty feet were taped to the stirrups, exposing
her lewdly. Her slim wrists were tied to the head of the table over her head. A
waist strap snugged her slim hips down.

	Lily looked over the row of lewdly exposed slits with satisfaction. Each
of these protesters had been chosen for her looks. She held up the straight
razor and shaving brush.

	"First, you must to be shaved to prep you."

	The dog-raped protesters were wide-eyed. Ping Li licked her lips
nervously and, despite the ever-present fear hammering like a berserk gong in
her chest, spoke out.

	"Prep us for what?"

	Lily gave her a sly grin.

	"You'll soon find out!"

	"We don't like not knowing! Please tell us! Is it worse than being
terrorized and then raped by vicious dogs? Is it worse than pissing and shitting
ourselves and being forced to lie in the mess?"

	Lily was practical.

	"That's a matter of taste, isn't it? I'll tell you what! Why don't each
of you let me know afterwards?"

	Chu Yu giggled as she was handed a straight razor to help in the
shaving. Lily instructed her.

	"First, you wet the brush and dip it in the shaving mug. Swirl it around
to get a good lather!"

	She suited the action to the word and then brushed the lather onto Ping
Li's involuntarily proffered pussy. Next to her, Chu Yu began lathering the
adjacent pubic triangle. They were watched intently by the obscenely displayed,
palpitating protesters. Those who weren't being lathered knew that their turn
was coming soon. Ping Li's curly black pubic hairs accepted the rich lather
easily.

	Opening their gleaming straight razors, Lily and Chu Yu had the complete
attention of all the strapped down, naked lovelies.

	"While the lathered up pubic hair is absorbing the lather to make your
job easier, you strop the razor to keep the blade excruciatingly sharp! First
one way and then the other, holding the blade at a 45 degree angle."

	The row of naked quims quivered sympathetically with each stroke as Lily
whetted the gleaming blade back and forth against the long razor strop.

	"This takes the burr off the edge of the blade so that you get a nice
clean cut. It's good to do this just before starting."

	Watching wide-eyed, Lily's first customer was particularly anxious. Ping
Li's delectable bare bod glistened with sweat.

	"Is this going to hurt?"

	"That depends."

	"Depends on what?"

	"It depends on your tolerance for pain and how much you squirm!"

	Pretty Ping froze as Lily began to scrape delicately between her legs.

	"You must use two basic types of stroke, Chu Yu. The first set of
strokes are done with the grain of the hair. This removes the bulk of the hair.
Study the pubic hair closely and see which way it is growing and cut with the
direction of growth, the grain. Take your time and rinse the blade regularly.
Get the angle of the blade right and be very careful! These straight razors are
incredibly sharp! You don't want to slice off any clits by mistake!"

	A frisson of fear flashed through the group as Lily continued her pussy
shaving lesson. Each wondered if she was going to get the rookie and how often
Lily's hand slipped.

	"When you have removed a section of hair, it's time for the second type
of stroke. This is done against the grain to make your patient perfectly smooth.
Each stroke removes a small layer of skin as well, so it's all right to see a
bit of redness and even, on occasion, a few small drops of blood afterwards!"

	Chu Yu's customer began to sweat rivers as Chu Yu ran her fingers
through her richly curled pubic thatch to determine the direction of growth and,
as instructed, began to scrape with the grain.

	"Between the asshole and the fuckhole is a strip of very delicate flesh
called the perineum. Be very careful when you're working there!"

	The two pretty protesters were gritting their teeth, clenching their
small fists tightly and curling their pretty little toes as the painfully close
shave continued. Their pubes burned a dark red as they were scraped clean of
hair and a few layers of skin as well. Chu Yu's customer squealed as she was
nicked by the rookie nookie barber. Lily was warmly supportive, giving her
customer a playful nick too. Ping Li squealed shrilly as Lily encouraged Chu Yu.

	"Don't worry about a few nicks. They'll heal! You'll be an old pro by
the time you do the last one. It's not like their precious little feelings
really matter, anyway! They're here to learn and to atone, not to have a good
time!"

	The two nude, helpless protesters held their breath, emitting occasional
small whimpers, as their sensitive pereneums were scraped raw.

	Lily and Chu Yu moved steadily down the line of fearful, sweating young
beauties, scraping each one smooth.

	When they were done, Lily held up a narrow tube and a bottle.

	"Time to drain the swamp, Falun Gongers!"

	Ping Li grunted as the catheter was shoved up her piss hole and her
bladder was emptied into the bottle. Lily moved down the line ramming the
catheter into each groaning protester, forcing each to donate a quick spurt of
urine to the bottle. When she was done, Lily pressed the button to summon the
Doctor. Dr. Hoiwah Woo, a short, dapper gentleman, grinned at the naked nookies
and bowed.

	"This is Dr. Woo, ladies. He will be performing your abortions!"
	
	The protesters were aghast.

	"WHAT!! You can't get pregnant from fucking dogs!"

	Lily was brisk.

	"I'm sure that you Falun Gong fools don't just fuck dogs! If you did,
the sect would be self-eliminating and no one would have to bother about you!
This is purely a precautionary abortion. Your families will be billed for it."

	The naked beauties were horrified.

	"They'll think that we were pregnant!"

	Lily smiled sweetly.

	"If you ever see your families again, you can explain it to them! I'm
sure that they'll understand about you joining a forbidden cult, stupidly
defying everyone and then not getting pregnant as a result of your foolishness!
Dr. Woo will be using a very wide curette to vacuum you out. It's more painful
than the narrow diameter ones, but does a much more thorough job! This procedure
is also known as the 'instant period' due to the heavy bleeding afterwards."

	Dr. Woo was not famed for his gentle, healing hands. Ping Li's eyes
bulged and she squealed like a stuck pig as he rammed the curette in and turned
on the suction. He took his time, scraping the curette carefully over the inside
of the squealing protester's puppy farm. As Ping Li shreiked and babbled
hysterically under Dr. Woo none-too-gentle ministrations, Lily addressed the
rest.

	"The government's population control program necessitates the
sterilization of all dissidents. We can't have undesirable elements reproducing
and creating more undesirables! Your families will be billed for this procedure
too!"

	The protesters wailed in misery.

	"They will think that we are Breeders: shameless, irresponsible women
who try to have more than the one baby the government allows!"

	Lily was concerned.

	"Gosh! Maybe your families won't want to see you ever again! The shame
would be incredible! They would lose a lot of face if word got out that their
daughter was a selfish little Breeder! Everyone knows how important population
control is! The future of China depends on it!"

	Dr. Woo happily worked the brutally invasive curette, intent on doing a
thorough job. When he had kept Ping LI gibbering and shreiking for a satisfying
length of time, when she was raw inside and bleeding nicely, he removed the
curette, opened her cunt wide with a speculum and, with a long needle on a
syringe, sealed her fallopian tubes with an industrial glue that bonded the
sides of the tubes together instantly when he gave them a quick, brutal squeeze
with long-nosed forceps. That done, he stuffed a tampon up her cunt to staunch
the flow of blood. Dr. Woo grinned at his hapless victim.

	"Look at the bright side, honey! After the breast enhancement, this time
done at government expense, you'll be the perfect fucktoy!"

	Pretty Ping stared back in pure horror. In Chinese society, a woman with
big tits was a cow. Her small, perfect breasts had been a source of pride. She
spoke in an unbelieving whisper.

	"Breast enhancement?"

	"Westerners prefer large beasted women."

	The pretty young bimbette was confused.

	"Why does that matter?"

	"You're part of a cultural exchange! Exotic western beauties, redheads
and blonds, bodacious black bimbos, are being shipped here to entertain the
party faithful. In exchange, you are being shipped to the West, to Hamburg,
Germany. We're calling this 'Operation Cowgirl'. Since you will be shipped from
Shanghai, you soon-to-be big-breasted babes will be called The Shanghai
Cowgirls!"

	Chu Yu giggled.

	"Mooooooooo!"

	Chapter 6 - Snake Charmer

	Lily loved snakeheads, as the enterprising villains who smuggled
desperate people out of Mainland China were known. They were a lot more
interesting than the Party Faithful. Not that sweating the Party Faithful wasn't
fun, but because they, by definition, caved in to authority at all
opportunities, it wasn't much of a trick to squeeze information out of them.
Snakeheads were a whole different breed.

	Chun Fat Ho, the snakehead who had sold Pamela Pureheart's passport to
Ai-Ling, had been captured and inquiring minds wanted him drained of all
information. He was understandably reluctant to be drained and then flushed. He
wanted to deal instead.

	Spread-eagled stark naked on the Tiger Bed, he was not in an ideal
position for this. It was hot in the cell and Chun Fat was thristy. He eyed the
cool, sweating bottles of beer that Lily brought in and licked his dry lips.

	"I suppose that you'll give me one of those in return for information."

	Lily smiled at him disarmingly.

	"Not at all! We simply don't want you to die of thirst!"

	As intended, Chun Fat thought that this was a patently obvious attempt
to get him drunk and loosen his tongue. Perfectly confident of his ability to
hold large quantities of alcohol, he jiggled his cuffs apologetically.

	"I don't want to put you to too much trouble, but I'm afraid that you'll
have to pour."

	"No trouble at all!"

	Lily obligingly she cracked open a cool one and held it to his lips.
Chun Fat drank thirstily.

	"Care for another?"

	Chun Fat smiled inside while keeping a straight face. As he suspected, a
blatant attempt to get him drunk. They obviously hadn't heard of his large
capacity. He slurped it down greedily.

	"Wow! You must be thirsty! One more?"

	Chun Fat was soon gloriously drunk. He smiled happily at Lily who looked
like a bit of prime nooky to him. Maybe she was in love with him. He wiggled his
bonds playfully.

	"I can do a lot for a beautiful babe like you if you free me!"

	Lily grinned.

	"I can do a lot for YOU with simply a length of stout twine!"

	He looked in confusion as Lily looped the twine around his penis, crying
out as she tied it brutally tight, cinching off his piss tube.

	"Aw!! Your poor pecker is turning blue!"

	Lily sniggered and held up a cool one.
	
	"Want more beer, loverboy?"

	Sweat bedewed the snakehead's brow. Desperation consumed him as his
sealed-off bladder swelled under a rapidly-increasing load. Lily smiled brightly
at him.

	"Perhaps you'd care to discuss your contacts and outline the scope of
your activities? After a quick confession, we can discuss untying your piss
tube."

	His massive load made his straining bladder feel like it was on the very
verge of a fiery explosion. He licked his lips.

	"AIIIEEE!! Release it first and I'll tell you all!"

	Lily looked patiently at her watch.

	"I've got lots of time! You must tell me all before you can be undone."

	She gave him a smug little smirk.

	"Of course, if you want to sit around chatting about the possibilities,
I have no problem with that! The bottom line is, and always will be, that there
is no release until after you have confessed."

	He nodded resignedly as he spoke quickly.

	"But you must untie me right after I have confessed!"

	Lily nodded.

	"Agreed! I'll untie you right after you confess."

	Lily turned on a cassette recorder. He started naming names as rapidly
as possible and  gave a quick outline of his operation. Lily had never heard
anyone speak so quickly.

	As promised, she untied him. With a massive sigh of relief, he unloaded.
His urine arced high in the air. When he was done, she massaged his penis
knowingly. Chun Fat grinned.

	"I get a reward, eh?"

	Lily gave him a lewd grin right back as she stroked him achingly erect,
rock hard.

	He screamed like a woman as she took his rigid penis between her two
hands and snapped it hard, like someone breaking a branch. As he screamed on and
on, staring incredulously at his ruined member, Lily squeezed his balls gently.

	"Unfortunately for you, I prefer women!"	           	   	   


	Chapter 7 - Voyage Of The Damned

	Unlike a lot of inmates, Ai-Ling was extremely grateful to arrive at the
Tender Willow Centre. She had entered the prison van dressed in her American
Tourist disguise. She emerged at the end of the long, hard journey exhausted,
naked and sperm-soaked. Cum oozed in thick, snotty clots from her cunt and
rectum. Her tummy was filled to overflowing with wiggling spermatozoans. Her
hair, both head and pubic, was sodden with peckersnot. It was under her
fingernails and toenails, dribbling from her nipples, dripping from her lips.
Creamy, viscous oyster juice had been lovingly worked into every crevice and
orifice of her well-groped body. It was in her ears and up her nose. Her
eyelashes and eyebrows were encrusted with it. Her apple-sized breasts had been
bathed in it. Her entire skin surface, inside and out, was slick with semen.

	After gratefully exiting the van, Ai-Ling staggered a few paces, sank to
her knees in the dirt and, not for the first time on her long trip, yorked up a
stomachful of semi-digested snake slime. She fell on her face and rolled onto
her back.

	She had been deeply frustrated at Hong Kong airport. She had been about
to board the flight to Bangkok, on the very verge of escaping completely. She
could almost taste the heady air of freedom when, at the last possible instant,
she had been recognized and arrested.

	Ai-Ling had resigned herself to receiving a bullet in the back of the
head like the middle-aged TV station manager she had been secretly fucking to
get ahead. She had never heard of the Tender Willow Clinic, but it was near the
Loving Lotus Prison, apparently, so she assumed it was a holding facility for
them. The large prison van would drop her off there and take the rest of the van
inmates to the Loving Lotus. China executes even petty criminals so the Loving
Lotus was doing boom business.

	Ai-Ling's handcuffs were undone and she was shoved into the van. The van
load of convicted rapists welcomed her aboard eagerly.

	Hard horny hands gripped her slender wrists and pulled her to the centre
of the thick crowd of rapists, each of whom knew that this was, very likely, the
last female flesh he would ever have access to.

	Behind her, 'Hands' Kong clamped one of his massive mitts over her
mouth, sealing her lips. His other hand pinched her nostrils shut. As Ai-Ling
struggled to breath, she could feel his erection pressing firmly against her
buns. The front of her blouse was ripped open, sending the buttons flying.
Unable to suck in a single molecule of oxygen, Ai-ling's lungs were burning in
her chest. She felt like she was slowly, agonizingly exploding from inside, the
traumatic physical sensation of suffocation. This threw her into a violent,
hysterical seizure. She kicked and bucked, writhed and squirmed desperately.
Strong, rapist hands held her struggling body firmly. As eager, experienced
fingers unhooked her bra, 'Hands' stuck his tongue into her earhole and then
whispered his skill-testing questions.

	"Do you want to breath ever again?"

	Ai-Ling hummed frantic assent into his smothering palm as hands delved
eagerly inside her panties. Her apple-size tits were unveiled and given lots of
appreciative squeezes. Her nipples were pinched erect. All she could concentrate
on was her body's burning need for a quick gulp of cool, refreshing oxygen.

	"Do you want to give us all blow jobs and hand jobs?"

	Ai-Ling's agonized lungs were burning, shreiking for air. She hummed
assent desperately into the smothering palm as the foot fetishists removed her
shoes and fondled her small perfect feet.

	Looking into her flushed face and bulging, bloodshot eyes, 'Hands', a
very experienced rapist, realized that his victim was fading. He unpinched her
nose and let her suck in a few quick, deep gulps of oxygen before sealing it off
again and resuming.

	"Do you want to open your fuckhole and asshole to us?"

	She hummed frantic assent as her panties were peeled off and her
cuntlips opened by obscenely exploring fingers.

	In short order, she found herself, stark naked, sandwiched on her knees,
one up her cunt, one up her asshole. She was pumping a dick with either hand and
a fifth rapist was feeding her his pecker for a suck fuck.

	As time wore on and the van slowly lurched over the countryside, dicks
were stuck under her armpits, rubbed against the backs of her knees, squeezed
between her breasts and between her buttcheeks. The foot fetishists wanted a
foot fuck, so she lay on her back, stroking a dick to orgasm with either foot
while a third rapist pumped between her legs and two more knelt on either side
getting hand jobs. Ramrods oozing peckersnot were wiped off in her hair.
Whenever her enthusiasm flagged, 'Hands' cut off her air to motivate her.

	It was only a few hours into the journey that she vomitted up her first
tummyful of bull gravy. It was scooped up and rubbed over her, into her face and
into her hair, as were all subsequent efforts to void herself of thick viscous
man milk.

	As she lay in the dirt, Ai-ling was a study in post-gangrape misery. Her
eyes were bloodshot. Her cunt and rectum burned. Her lips, both facial and
vaginal, were thick and swollen. Her bruised, brutally pinched, well-chewed
nipples ached and throbbed. Purple fingermark bruises covered her breasts and
buttocks. Mei smiled down at her happily.

	"Welcome to the Tender Willow Centre! Nobody ever leaves here, not even
as a dead body. How can that be, you ask?"

	She looked around at the staff, who chorused the answer.

	"We have our own crematorium!"

	She smiled down sweetly at Ai-Ling.

	"Are you ready for your complimentary abortion?"

	The cum-soaked spermbag opened her bloodshot eyes wearily.

	"A complimentary abortion? I'll take two!"


	Chapter 8 - Journey's End

	Ai-Ling was resting in her 'air bed'. The 'air bed' was simply four
posts arranged in a square with the victim hanging in mid-air spread-eagled
between them. Stark naked, her wrists and ankles each attached by a length of
rope to a post, Ai-Ling was totally exhausted. The abortion, repeated enemas,
stomach pumpings and ice-cold water hosedowns that had welcomed her to the
Tender Willow Centre on top of the long grueling gang rape had drained her
completely.

	The inefficient government had, once more, failed to supply the needed
drugs to the clinic, so Mei was using the time-tried, old-fashioned methods. Mei
shaved Ai-Ling's eyebrows and taped her eyelids open. Sleep deprivation is a
number one priority in any mind-melting exercise. Ai-Ling groaned and coughed as
vinegar was squirted up her nostrils, her sinuses exploding in a violent
fireworks display of pounding sinus head-ache.

	Mei conducted a rigorous three-pronged program of mental, physical and
sexual abuse.

	The nude, heavy breasted beauty hanging in the air bed next to Ai-Ling
had been seconded from the Loving Lotus Prison to assist in the mental abuse
process. Ai-Ling was to linger. The petty thief suspended next to her was
disposable garbage, scheduled for a bullet to the brain. Mainland China has few
repeat offenders because they execute them the first time around. Mei chatted
cheerfully to the thief.

	"Ever been skinned alive before?"

	The spread-eagled thief shifted uneasily.

	"How would that be possible? Surely you can only be skinned alive once!"

	Mei was happy to explain as she set down a tray containing a sharp
scalpel, a thin needle set in a wooden handle and a large pair of tweezers.

	"We simply remove the flesh in thin strips! You can last a long time
that way! We can even allow it to regrow and then remove it again and again!"

	The naked thief looked at the tray of skinning implements fearfully.

	"I think that I want my bullet to the brain now!"

	Mei was encouraging.

	"Don't be a wussy! I've got an eye for these things and a lot of
experience! You'll be surprised at how much pain you can handle!"

	The naked thief believed Mei implicitly.

	"Why are you doing this? I'm only a small-time thief!"

	Mei gave her a quick 'politically correct' pep talk.

	"Exactly! Your life has been a complete waste until now! A needless
burden to The State! A leech on society! We can turn all that around by using
you as a horrible example so that others, like Ai-Ling here, can learn. She will
learn that the Glorious People's Republic is fearless and ruthless when it comes
to dealing with it's enemies. If we can do this to you, what will we do to her?"

	"Please! Have mercy!"

	Mei looked thoughtful, as if she were actually considering her victim's
plea. She smiled brightly, as if having a happy inspiration.

	"I have a great idea!"

	The stupid thief was hopeful. Ai-Ling shook ger head sadly. Even totally
exhausted and completely fucked over, her inflamed sinuses burning behind her
eyes, she knew Mei was just playing.

	"I'll tear off three strips of skin. If you can be silent during the
actual skinning, you will earn your bullet. After each strip of skin is removed,
we'll have a little rest period. During that, you can tell Ai-Ling what it felt
like!"

	The naked thief scowled.

	"How is that a good deal?"

	Mei giggled.

	"It's my best offer! If you make any noise, I can tear off as many
strips as I want! As a matter of fact, if you don't want to, you don't have to
co-operate at all! Your screams will tell Ai-Ling everything she needs to know!"

	Mei grinned ferally as she reached between the thief's spread legs and
gently stroked her split apricot cuntlips.

	"Trust me! We are talking about a lot of strips!"

	Mei turned to Ai-Ling, gripped Ai-Ling's dangling head firmly and
obscenely licked Ai-ling's taped-open, aching eyeballs. She worked her moist
tongue over the dry surface while Ai-Ling whimpered and groaned.

	"Keep your eyes peeled, Ai-Ling, and learn!"

	"It certainly feels like my eyes are being peeled!"

	The pretty thief was quaking nicely. Mei gave her big boobs a few
friendly squeezes. Unlike a lot of chinese, Mei loved big-breasted women. It
gave her so much more to work with.

	The suspended thief squirmed frantically, watching with bulging eyes as
Mei
 took the scalpel and cut in at the the base of her breast. The thief took a
deep breath and bit her lips as Mei sliced, carving around the base of the
breast in a circle, cutting only skin deep. The thief was panting hard as Mei
joined up the end of the circle to the beginning. A thin trickle of blood oozed
from the cut.

	She explained for the benefit of Ai-Ling who, after a horrified glance
as Mei jabbed the blade in, was pointedly looking the other way. Mei didn't
mind. Imagination is the playground of fear.

	"We make the next incision parallel to the first, half an inch away."

	Looking away didn't prevent Ai-Ling from hearing the sharp intakes of
breath as Mei cut and the gritting and grinding of teeth as the thief worked
hard to stifle her cries. She could smell the blood and the fear-sweat. She
could hear the ropes creak as the thief strained hard against her bonds. She
heard the patter of piss on the floor as the thief emptied her bladder, followed
by the stale smell of fresh urine. Not watching was definitely worse.

	"Next, we make a small cut from one circle to the next. We wipe off the
bloody scalpel and put it down. We pick up the tweezers and the needle and peel
the flesh from between the two bloody circles around the base of her breast. We
use the needle to tease the skin loose from the underlying flesh as we pull back
on the tweezers."

	Thoughtfully, Mei placed the strip of flesh over Ai-Ling's slit, bloody
side down, tucking one end in Ai-Ling's cunt. Ai-ling pumped her hips and
bounced frantically, trying to dislodge the horrid object as it flapped around
loosely between her legs. Mei smiled down at the panting, sweaty faced thief.

	"You can talk to Ai-Ling while I rub in the salt and vinegar."

	The thief sobbed hysterically as Mei put on rubber gloves. She shreiked
hoarsely as Mei squirted the salt and vinegar mixture on the skinless bleeding
strip of titmeat and began kneading it in.

	"Aaaaaaiiiii!! It burns! It burns!"

	Mei smiled back at Ai-ling.

	"You getting all this? Have you figured out how to handle it when it's
your turn?"

	Ai-Ling sobbed softly, saying nothing. Mei slapped the thief playfully
on the rump.

	"Quiet down now! It's time for strip number two!"

	Ai-Ling looked away.

	"The second strip is coming from across the top of the pubic triangle.
Gotta love the thief here. She has much to offer - big tits and lots of hair
between the legs. Our thief is about to give you a nice hairy strip of pubic
flesh, Ai Ling. I make the first incision across the top of the pubic triangle,
following the edge of the hair."

	Once again, Ai-Ling heard the sudden sharp creak of the restraining
ropes and a matching sudden, sharp intake of breath as Mei made her incision and
began to saw across the thief's taut bare belly from hip to hip, following the
top of the pubic triangle.

	"I make a second cut parallel to the first, an inch inside the thick
pubic bush."

	The smell of fear-sweat and blood was accompanied by another small
patter of pee as a small squirt of urine spurted from between the thief's legs.

	"I make two small incisions joining the two long cuts at the either end
so we have a long rectangle of blood. I wipe off the scalpel and put it down. I
pick up the tweezers and the needle and begin peeling it back."

	Mei paused and exclaimed in surprise.

	"What do we have here?"

	Ai-Ling couldn't resist looking. She saw Mei, with her forefinger inside
the incision, pulling out a loop of the thief's intestine. The thief with her
sweaty, pasty face, her bloodshot eyes wide, lost it completely. She shreiked
insanely.

	"PUT IT BACK IN!!!"

	"DON'T TAKE ANY MORE OUT!!!"

	"PUSH IT BACK IN!!!!"

	"PLEASE! NO MOOOOORE!!!!"

	The thief screamed on and on, begging for her guts to be put back in her
belly, as Mei slowly pulled loop after loop of intestine out through the
incision. She cut the ends off, turned and wrapped the steaming, reeking tube of
gut around Ai-ling's face and upper torso, knotting the two ends together
tightly.

	Ai-ling writhed and squirmed, her taped open eyes plastered against the
gut tube and her lips pursed tightly together, while, next to her, the thief
screamed on and on and on and on.

	Mei sniggered cruelly as she left the room.

	"I'll just leave you two to spend some quality time together! Enjoy!"

	Chapter 9 - Meat shipment

	"You should be honoured!"

	"Honoured? How so?"

	Ai-Ling was polite, if incredulous. Being fucked over and beaten by
everybody didn't seem to her to be an honour. Mei pointed out the bright side.

	"You are the only person who has ever been allowed to leave the Tender
Willow Centre."

	"But it's only so I can be snuffed in Hamburg!"

	Mei laughed.

	"You're awfully hard to please! Public executions are a chinese
tradition!"

	Standing on the dock next to the Pussy Maru, wearing a t-shirt, jeans
and nikes, Ai-Ling couldn't stop shaking. The relentless grinding had taken it's
toll. Her pretty face jerked and twitched constantly, a mass of stress-induced
neuroses competing for control.

	She stood, unbound, next to Mei, watching the American girls being
unloaded. An Amazonian black girl looked around her at the boats with eyes
painted on the bows to help them 'see' their way, the incredible mass of
oriental people, a pagoda in the distance. She whispered to the buxom blond
Texas beauty next to her.

	"Toto! I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!"

	The blond from Texas wasn't impressed.

	"I'll bet they'll fuck us here the same as everywhere else! Though
they've probably got smaller dicks here than in Texas!"

	The black girl snorted.

	"Well, there's a blessing!"

	The others giggled coarsely. Being everyone's fucktoy turned the
prissiest beauty into a  crude slut in no time.

	Mei explained as the Shanghai Cowgirls were trouped on board.

	"The American beauties are being imported to fuck Party Bigwigs. A
blond, a brunette, a  redhead, a black girl, the're all exotic rarities here,
though I bet they open their fuckhole and gobble dick just like everyone else."

	Ai-Ling nodded, delighted to be in a conversation that wasn't concerned
with some obscene, painful, degrading performance on her part.

	"They're sex slaves, aren't they?"

	Mei nodded.
	
	"You've got a good eye! They've benn kidnapped, raped over, forced to
perform. They're pure fuckmeat all right!"

	"Well, at least that's better than being snuffmeat!"

	"Oh, one leads to the other easily enough! Ordinarily, you'd be packed
in a container with the other meat and loaded onto the ship, but because here
it's done with the co-operation of the government, that's not necessary. In
Hamburg, you'll be jammed in a container to be unloaded. It's a fast container
port, so, once there, you'll be at the Snuff Party in no time, screaming hard."

	  The Shanghai Cowgirls were paraded out in their cowgirl uniforms,
wearing cowboy hats, cowboy boots, fringed skirts and blouses. The dockside
workers were whistling lewdly at the slim, young beauties with their awesome new
superstructures. Their greatly enhanced breasts stuck out from their chests like
twin artillery shells. Most were now experiencing back pain on a regular basis,
grateful for the opportunity to lie down and spread their legs.

	"Mooo!"

	Everyone laughed. Mei led Ai-Ling up the gangplank. Mei smiled sweetly
when they got on the ship. Ai-Ling hated that smile.

	"While you're on your way to Hamburg, I've arranged some entertainment
for you."

	A very familiar, large hand wrapped around Ai-Ling's lower face from
behind, sealing off her mouth. Her nostrils were pinched shut. Her eyes bulged
and her face darkened as she struggled to breath. Other hands held her wrists
down and began peeling off her clothes.

	"You remember 'Hands' Kong and the boys that kept you amused on your
trip to the Tender Willow?"

	Mei sniggered as Ai-Ling peed in her panties.

	"They're back!"

	Section 8 - The African Connection

	Chapter 1 - Suck Ups

	In his office in Woking, Smedley Hargreaves slipped his hands inside
Michelle's panties and gave her bum a friendly squeeze. His beautiful asian
secretary looked up at her employer gratefully. As he had pointed out to her on
numerous occasions, if it wasn't for him, she'd still be working grueling days
wading knee-deep in the rice paddies back in the old country. While her Bank
Manager boss kneaded her firm young buttocks, lovely Michelle reviewed his
schedule for the day.

	"Mmmmm! First off, the anthropologist Ingrid Schumacher will be coming
in to find out the status of her grant application."

	Smedley parted her firm, rounded buns and began to finger Michelle's
rectum.

	"Ooooh! Later in the morning, just before lunch, your second visitor is
due. Someone named Linn Lovelace is scheduled. She says that it's about
something personal, private and confidential."

	Smedley nodded knowingly and began gently, but insistently, worming his
finger into Michelle's warm anal orifice.

	"Aaaahhh! In the afternoon, Trish and Kate, two journalism students, are
here to discuss a small loan for an investigative trip to a small African
kingdom."

	Michelle shut her eyes and moaned ecstatically.

	"You are a very generous man, Mr. Hargreaves!"

	Smedley was cheerful.

	"Why not? It's the bank's money!" 

	A short while later, Smedley unzipped and fed Ingrid his dick. Naked
from the waist up, the blond anthropologist slurped it in like a pro. Ingrid,
topless and on her knees, her bobbing ringlets of hair shimmering like a heaving
ocean of glorious golden tresses, was performing the final part of her grant
application. Smedley groaned as he bathed her tonsils in a thick, viscous sea of
sperm. He pulled back and sprayed the rest of his liquid load into her lovely
face, hitting her right between her smokey blue eyes. Ingrid blinked as his cum
coated her long lashes and dribbled down both sides of her patrician nose.

	Ingrid's anthropology career had been founded on her looks and sexual
skills. Today was no exception. She made no move to wipe off his cum as it
dripped from her chin onto her bouncing breasts. Staying on her knees, she
licked his dick clean, tucked it back in his pants and zipped him up. Tilting
her head back, she grinned lewdly up at him.

	"I take it that there's no problem about my getting the grant?"

	Smedley Hargreaves grinned back at her and tousled her golden hair
patronisingly like someone rewarding a faithful hound.

	"None whatsoever! Just don't tell anyone about this expedition the bank
is funding so jealous colleagues don't steal a march on you. I guess I don't
have to tell you what academic competition is like! Getting access to a
reclusive, little known African tribe of female warriors will be quite a coup!"

	Ingrid smirked smugly. Like many good-looking bitches who fucked their
way to the top, she was under the mistaken impression that it meant that she was
smarter than the dullards who played by the rules.

	"Don't worry, Smedley. Mum's the word until I reveal my research and the
others are left looking stupid one more time!"

	Just before lunch, Michelle ushered Linn into Smedley's office and shut
the door. Linn sat primly in the visitor's chair. It was deliberately set lower
than Smedley's so that his visitors were forced to look up at him.

	Smedley looked at the young divorcee suspiciously.

	"I'm taking a big risk trusting someone unknown like you as a courier.
Your looks are in your favour. You certainly look very innocent indeed! No
customs guard would suspect a pretty girl like you. You're so innocent looking,
I only have one concern. How do I know that you're not an undercover
policewoman?"

	Linn was desperate for the money. Easy credit had led her into the 'debt
spiral' where most of her income was devoted to paying the interest on her
loans. When she had lost her job and defaulted on her loan payment she had come
to Smedley's attention. He loved pretty girls who were down on their luck and
had made her a tempting offer.

	As far as Linn could see, any fool could smuggle drugs into a small
Afican country that couldn't afford much in the way of border security. It was
just a matter of having the contacts. Lucky for her, Smedley was a contact.
Suspecting the answer, she asked the question.

	"Um, how can I prove to you that I'm not undercover?"

	"By doing something for me that no undercover policewoman would do!"

	Smedley could see her nerving herself up to do whatever was required.

	"Um, what could I do for you?"

	She saw the look in his eyes and hastened to add her sole proviso.

	"As long as it's not sex! I don't want to catch any diseases from a drug
dealer!"

	Smedley laughed genially, a man of the world.

	"Very wise of you! People you wouldn't even suspect of it are serious
needle freaks!"

	He opened his desk drawer, removed a digital camera and placed it on his
desk.

	"No sex, but how about posing for some lewd, rude and crude little
pictures?"

	Linn was thoughtful.

	"Um, how do I know you won't show them to my friends?"

	"Because I'll be in them too! All I need is a couple of pictures of you
showing me your goodies. They'll be obviously taken in my office with the clock
on the wall showing that it's during the working day. I'll print you copies on
my office printer! If I try anything, you can show them to the bank directors
and get me fired!"

	The young divorcee thought about it briefly, then shrugged.

	"In for a penny, in for a pound!"

	Smedley nodded.

	"Exactly!"

	He set up the camera on a tripod and placed a chair in front of it. He
sat in the chair with his side to the camera, facing Linn. Smedley held the
trigger to the camera out of sight, in his off-camera hand.

	He went into pornographer mode with practised ease.

	"Take off your bra, honey. You stand next to me at an angle. Open your
blouse wide, showing me, and the camera, your bare boobies."

	Linn obliged, boldly flashing him her tits.

	"Arch your back, honey. Stick out your tongue and give your lips a slow,
lewd little lick."

	Linn looked like one naughty little minx indeed as the camera flashed.

	"OK! Leave your top open. Turn around, bend over and pull down your
panties."

	Linn bent over and bared her bum.

      "Reach between your legs and spread your cuntlips wide with your fingers.
Turn your face to the camera. Spread 'em a bit wider, honey. I want to see lots
of pink!"

	A bit red-faced, bent over with her bare breasts hanging down, looking
back at the camera, Linn brazenly exhibited her split apricot, wrinkled rectum
and tight bare buns as the camera flashed.

	Linn jerked upright and emitted a small squeal as Smedley playfully
slapped her proferred rump.

	"OK! Nice little performance, Linn! You get the job! Half the money up
front and the rest when it's done!"

	"Um, thanks, I think!"

	He downloaded the images to his PC, printed off the photos on his
printer and handed them to Linn.

	"Wow! I really look shameless!"

	Smedley grinned.

	"Yes, a very nice little package, beautifully displayed! You're
definitely not a narc!"

	She giggled as she buttoned up and put the photos carefully in her
purse.

	"A pleasure doing business with you!" 

	In the late afternoon, Trish and Kate put in a delightful little
apearance. University co-eds studying journalism, Trish and Kate were bosom
buddies, two red-headed bimbettes that saw eye-to-eye and tit-to-tit on
everything. Trish cut right to the chase.

	"Mr. Hargreaves! We talked in the pub where it was pretty clear that you
like doing favours for young women who do favours for you! You had an
interesting idea about our getting a grant for a fun little vacation in Africa.
We would be there to photograph some native rituals but, really, just to party
and have a good time."

	Trish looked at Kate significantly.

	"Now that we're sober, we have a few concerns!"

	Smedley stifled a smile.

	"What's troubling you?"

	"Lots of Africa isn't very safe! We're having doubts about the wisdom of
going there."

	Smedley leaned forward and spoke reassuringly.

	"You'll be going to a country run by King Mumboli. He went to Oxford so,
although he's as black as a coal mine at midnight, he's a throughly civilized
gentleman! His head of security, Whitey Nairobi, who also went to Oxford,
another civilized gentleman, will personally look after your safety during your
visit. The Kingdom, although small and not found on any map, is politically
stable and was ruled by King Mumboli's father before him. He's not a
johnny-come-lately with a insecure grip on the reins of power. His kingdom is
not in the middle of any civil wars or exercises in genocide that plague many
other African countries. He's not fighting his neighbors. His people are gentle
farmers and peaceful herders, not fierce warring tribesmen."

	"It's just that we hear so much about Central African bloodbaths in the
news!"

	"And you don't feel like contributing to the bathwater! I understand
completely! Here's the deal: Whitey Nairobi will pick you up in the King's
personal luxury jet at Heathrow. Your next stop will be in his country, a jungle
paradise. You don't have to pass through any of the unpleasant places en route.
You will be perfectly safe at all times. He'll take you to the native rituals
which you can observe first-hand as much, or as little, as you want, thus
satisfying the terms of the grant. He'll also show you the parties and, believe
me, a King knows how to party!"

	  	 Kate and Trish looked relieved. With very little further
coaxing, the two co-eds took off their tops and shook their tits for him,
working to secure the grant. Trish squatted down and unzipped Smedley to clinch
the deal with a blowjob while Kate frenched him.

	As Smedley and Kate's strong wet tongues intertwined muscularly, Trish
pulled his penis from his pants and sucked on his thick knob to stiffen him. It
took little time for his pant python to uncoil. Trish skilfully deep-throated
him, sword swallowing until her lips were kissing his pubic hairs.

	Smedley spitting cobra spat hard down Trish's wide-open throat and it
was a done deal. Trish and Kate left, smirking smugly.

	It was the end of another busy day at the bank as Smedley and Michelle
closed up. They headed off to a strip club where Smedley had arranged for a
deeply grateful Michelle to do a little moonlighting. As far as lovely Michelle
was concerned, it sure beat having nasty parasites feed on you in the rice
paddies.    

		   

	Chapter 2 - Airport To Hell

	Lovely Sherry was pissed. She shook her long blond tresses violently and
stamped her pretty little foot.

	"Meredith, I told you that wasn't a good connection! Now we're stuck in
this stupid little African airport in the middle of nowhere! Look at this place!
The only airplane in sight is that private jet! There's no one at the ticket
counter and not many passengers!"

	Her buddy Meredith was resolutely optimistic.

	"Stop being an hysterical ninny! Have some faith! We're both
stewardesses. I can certainly read a timetable. I'm sure there's another
airplane out of here bound for Johannesburg in an hour."

	Sherry was despondent.

	"This plussing is the pits!"

	"What do you mean? It's free transportation! It's a perq of the job. You
know how much these flights would cost if we were paying for it! We're airline
employees, so we can travel for free on any unfilled seats on a flight."

	Sherry sighed.

	"I guess so. The only problem is that the unfilled seats brought us
here. You said there was a connecting flight! I don't even see anyone at the
ticket desk, much less an actual, factual commercial plane! There's just that
one private jet and that's it!"

	Sherry looked out at the empty tarmac glumly. Meredith pointed out the
up side.

	"At least there's no stupid airport security here!"

	Sherry brightened marginally.

	"Yeah, those security weenies are officious jerks. Underpaid little
morons drunk on power who like making you spread your legs for their stupid
metal detecting wand! Like I've got an AK-47 hidden up my wazoo!"

	Meredith eyed Sherry's generous superstructure.

	"Well, you're certainly packin' !"

	Sherry giggled.

	"They never look me in the face! The way those guys talk to me you'd
think I had microphones in my nipples!"

	She resumed her rant about airport security.

	"If you object, it's all the excuse they need to have their pet butch
bitch feel you up."

	"Yeah, that's the closest those creeps are ever going to get to a pair
of luscious blonds like us!"

	Sherry shuddered delicately. She was quite particular about granting
access to her ex-cheerleader body.

	"Well, it's too close for me!"

	"Amen, sister! Hey look, someone's finally manning the ticket counter!"

	Sherry stepped briskly up to the ticket counter. Like many people in
customer service, she demanded a lot when it was her turn to be served.

	"It's about time! What is this - a banana republic?" 

	The slow-moving black woman eyed them insolently.

	"Actually, bananas are a major export, honeybuns!"

	She hated uppity blond bitches.

	"How much service were you expecting, sweetie? You two lost? Ain't
nothin' happenin' here!"

	Meredith struck a conciliatory note.

	"Sorry! It's just that we've been waiting awhile! Where's the flight to
Johannesburg?"

	"Cancelled! Next flight's in a couple of days!"

	"WHAT!"

	Short-fused Sherry looked like she was ready to go postal. Meredith
placed a restraining hand on Sherry's arm.

	"Is there another flight out of here?"

	"No commercial airline's flying out of here for the next couple of
days."

	Meredith looked at the ticket agent slyly.

	"Are there any private planes leaving from here?"

	The black ticket agent nodded reluctantly. She gestured at a muscular
black gentleman at the far end of the terminal.

	"If you ask nicely, Mr. Nairobi might give you a lift on King Mumboli's
private jet. He's King Mumboli's head of security. He and King Mumboli were at
Oxford together!"

	Neither of the stewardesses had heard of King Mumboli, but figured that
an Oxford educated monarch with his own private jet was just what the doctor
ordered. Beaming brightly, the ticket agent was suddenly extremely helpful. She
picked up the microphone and paged him.

	"Will Mr. Whitey Nairobi come to the ticket counter, please? Two lovely
young damsels in distress need a favour!"

	Smiling broadly, bright white teeth almost jumping out of his coal-black
face, Whitey came over. Convinced that they were temporarily stranded, Sherry
and Meredith were delighted to be offered complimentary seats on King Mumboli's
private jet which 'just happened' to be going to their destination in South
Africa. The two bodacious beauties cooed in gratitude as he escorted them off.

	It was a busy day for the ticket agent. Shortly after she had finished
pushing Sherry and Meredith onto Whitey, a blond, nordic beauty stepped out of a
cab, glanced around and stepped up to the slow-moving ticket agent. The ticket
agent eyed her with her usual languid insolence. What was it with all these
white bitches all of a sudden?

	"You looking for something, sweetie?"

	Ingrid looked down at her coolly.

	"I'm supposed to meet my guide, Jimmy Whitcomb."

	The ticket agent grinned, always happy to help a blond bitch on her way
to hell. Ingrid assumed, quite correctly, that the name of Jimmy Whitcomb, a
well-known local scumbag, accounted for the ticket agent's sudden warmth.

	"You're looking for Jimmy Whitcomb? I think he told me about you! You
must be Ingrid Schumacher, the anthropologist that Jimmy's guiding to the
Widowmakers, a mythical, reclusive tribe of female warriors?"

	"Well, he's going to let me off in the vacinity. Since they reportedly
use men only for breeding purposes before disposing of them, he doesn't want to
hang around."

	The ticket agent laughed genially.

	"They sound like my sort of women! What makes you think they're real?"

	Ingrid loosened up.

	"A man named Smedley Hargreaves showed me some interesting video footage
of one of their rituals and arranged some funding for my expedition."

	The ticket agent looked around the empty airport as King Mumboli's
private jet with Meredith and Sherry aboard took off.

	"How big is your expedition? You're not exactly swamping our facility
here!"

	Ingrid giggled.

	"Well, actually, it's just me, my trusty video camera, my audio cassette
recorder and my notebook."

	The ticket agent nodded approvingly and looked at her shrewdly.

	"Afraid that a big expedition might frighten them off?"

	Ingrid nodded.

	"That's what Smedley suggested. I've not been to Africa before, but I've
done a lot of camping and hiking so I should be OK for a week! I've investigated
tribes in New Zealand quite a bit, so I'm used to petty tough terrain and, in a
territory dominated by fierce female warriors, I'm probably pretty safe."

	The ticket agent loved a naive blond bitch. She eyed Ingrid's buxom
figure slyly.

	"I'm sure that they'll love you to death!"

	Ingid sniggered.

	"I've heard the rumours that they're lesbian, if that's what you mean,
and I think I can cope!"

	The black ticket agent rolled the whites of her eyes comically.

	"Just lay back and think that it's all for the good of science!"

	Ingrid guffawed.

	"Exactly! I mean, the worst case is that I get to taste some warrior
pussy!"

	"Best case is that they get to taste yours!"

	The women were smirking, enjoying a deep-down dirty snigger, when Jimmy
Whitcomb stepped up.

	"Since you are absolutely the only potential passenger in the airport, I
assume that you're Ingrid Schumacher from the University's Anthroplogy
Department?"

	Ingrid smiled and held out her hand. They shook. She picked up her
knapsack. Jimmy eyed the large knapsack.

	"Is that all of your luggage?"

	A thoroughly modern young woman, Ingrid was supremely confident of her
ability to handle herself.

	"That's it! My supplies for a week!"

	Jimmy projected an image of brisk, reassuring competence, his
stock-in-trade.

	"OK! The deal is that I fly you in on my float plane, drop you off and
come back to the same place to pick you up in a week. I'll give you a
transmitter and we make radio contact each evening at six o'clock so you can let
me know of any change in plans and where you are so that we can get you out if
there's any trouble. Right?"

	Ingrid nodded.

	"Right!"

	"Got a gun, Ingrid?"

	"Yes, a .45 automatic."

	She showed him her pistol. He nodded approvingly.

	"Excellent! Let's go! My float plane's on the lake just past the trees."

	Behind Ingrid's back, the ticket agent crossed her eyes and mouthed the
words 'float plane?' with a look of mock astonishment. Jimmy grinned cheerfully
at her.

	"Thanks for your help, Yolanda."

	"No problem, Mr. Whitcomb! Glad to be of service!"
   

	Chapter 3 - Coffee, Tea  or (ulp!) Me?

	The superior, red-haired stewardess ushered them to their seats aboard
King Mumboli's jet. The seat belt light went on. Obediently, Sherry and Meredith
buckled themselves snugly into their seats like good airline employees. The
red-haired stewardess buckled herself into the seat facing them, smiling
nervously. Sherry spoke sardonically.

	"You seem nervous. Been flying long?"

	The English stewardess had a plummy, upper-class accent.

	"They don't know it yet, but this is my last flight working for these
bastards!"

	"What do you mean?"

	The English stewardess was mysterious and none too comforting.

	"I've seen too much of the way these guys operate. When we land in South
Africa, I'm bailing!"

	The jet engines whined noisily, drowning out all conversation as they
were cranked up full blast. The pilot released the brakes and the jet took off
like a rocket.

	"Wow! Someone must have really souped up those engines! That was fast!
What did you mean by the phrase 'those bastards' exactly? Is there something we
should know?"

	Glancing behind them, the stewardess spoke furtively.

	"I'll tell you later!"

	The red-haired stewardess went silent as Whitey and two very large
gentlemen pushed a trolley bearing a covered bucket, a pair of tweezers, a small
metal bottle and a large sponge down the aisle towards them. Whitey smiled at
Meredith and Sherry.

	"Has lovely Brandi been telling you her problems?"

	Sherry spoke quickly.
	
	"Not yet! Does she have a problem?"

	Whitey nodded.

	"She has a quite serious problem. She keeps refusing the King's
advances."

	Sherry glanced uneasily at Meredith.

	"Uh, is that a crime in your country? I thought that you and the King
went to Oxford together! Surely a civilized gentleman can accept a lady's
refusal?"

	Whitey smiled warmly.

	"Certainly! He accepts her refusal completely and has given us
permission to use her as an example."

	Brandi fumbled with her seat belt, but it wouldn't unbuckle. Belatedly,
Sherry and Meredith discovered that they were strapped down too, pinned
helplessly in their seats.  Whitey helpfully clarified their predicament.

	"I guess you girls are just discovering that those seatbelts don't come
off until I unlock them. Sherry and Meredith, since there's nothing you can do,
you just settle down, watch and learn."

	He gripped Brandi by the hair and pulled back her head. She looked up at
him fearfully.

	"What are you going to do?"

	Whitey spoke quietly.

	"I want you to show everyone your tits, Brandi!"

	Brandi scowled.

	"Why would I want to do that?"

	Whitey reached to the trolley and picked up the small metal bottle. He
unscrewed the top. An evil mist emerged from the bottle like a swampy, miasmic
breath, smelling of almonds. Brandi looked at it fearfully.

	"What's that?"

	"This is hydrofluoric acid in concentrated form. It's stored in metal
because it eats glass. It's used to clean cast iron, copper and brass or to etch
fancy patterns in glass. Although it's clear, it's more like a thin oil than
water so it probably won't spray around much if I spill some on you and you jerk
around a lot. If you don't show us your tits, I'll pour it over your blouse. The
good news is that it will dissolve your blouse and bra, saving you the trouble
of removing them. The bad news is that it will dissolve your tits and chest as
well."

	He gingerly poured a small drop onto the trolley next to the covered
bucket. Sizzling and hissing violently, it promply ate a large hole in the
trolley top. Whitey looked at her inquiringly.

   	"Want everyone to see your bleached rib bones or will you take it all
off?"

	Brandi began unbuttoning. Badly shaken, she started to speak. Whitey
held a finger to her lips to shush her.

	"The time for talk is over. It's time for some action! Let's start with
a stripshow, a working girl showing everyone what she has to offer."

	Whitey grinned at Sherry and Meredith.

	"Why don't you girls show us what you're packing too? Let's have a
totally topless stewardess party!"

	Whitey shook the acid bottle gently. Sherry and Meredith gave each other
a horrified glance and hurriedly started to unbutton.

	The men smirked smugly as the young beauties pulled off their blouses
and unhooked their bras to show them the merchandise. Brandi was first,
displaying pert breasts capped by small, blood-red nipples. Sherry uncupped her
monster melons and big brown nipples. Meredith came in third with a nice pair of
firm young globes and pretty pink paps.

	As their bare boobs jiggled gently, Whitey and his goons noticed that
none of the stewardesses were trying to cover up. Whitey appreciated experienced
women who knew an enchanting variety of tricks. Here he had hit the jackpot:
three in a row. As he eyed the tit parade, he mentally amended that to six in a
row. He capped the acid bottle.

	"OK, ladies! Put your hands on your heads and give them a shake."

	The captive stewardesses bounced them for the boys. He zeroed in on
Brandi.

	"When I release you, you have nowhere to run. You're on a plane high in
the sky. If you think you can take any one of us, much less all three at once,
you're very stupid indeed. Give us any excuse, we'll pin you to the floor and
I'll pour acid on your face. Feeling co-operative, Brandi?"

	Brandi swallowed hard and nodded as he thumbed his remote control to
unbuckle her seatbelt.

	"Stand up and take it all off, Brandi. We want to see every square inch
of your skin. We want to know if you shave your pussy. We want to see your Brit
slit. Show us your every nook and cranny, Brandi!"

	Her patrician features frozen and impassive, Brandi coolly stripped,
stepping out of her heels, undoing her skirt and peeling off her pantihose. She
had a neatly trimmed pubic triangle and a slit that looked like a snug little
cockpit indeed. Whitey patted the seat.

	"Sit!"

	Brandi sat primly, knees together. Whitey loved nylon stockings.
Producing a pair from his pocket, he firmly tied one around each of  Brandi's
slim ankles. The two goons each pulled a stocking in opposite directions,
spreading Brandi's shapely legs nicely. They tied them down to ringbolts, set
far apart, into the floor. Pulling out another stocking, he tied Brandi's wrists
together in front of her, pulled them up over her head and tied them to the back
of her seat. He picked the big sponge up off the trolley and held it in front of
Brandi's tightly pursed lips.

	"Open!"

	With visible reluctance, Brandi opened. He jammed the large sponge into
her mouth and tied it in place with a fourth nylon stocking. Meredith and Sherry
watched, their eyes huge. Whitey mugged a bit for his captive audience. He
gestured dramatically at the covered bucket.

	"I bet you're wondering what's under the cover!"

	Sherry piped up nervously, hating the way her voice squeaked when she
fed him the straight line.

	"What is it?"

	With a dramatic flourish, he pulled back the cover. Under the glassed-in
top, a nest of large black wasps began to buzz angrily. Whitey picked up the
tweezers and opened a small hole in the top of the bucket. As a very aggressive
wasp climbed out he gripped it firmly with the tweezers and hurriedly shut the
hole. The evil black wasp wriggled and writhed, buzzing angrily in the tweezers.

	Whitey smiled at Brandi, reached between her legs and parted her Brit
slit to expose her clit. Brandi tried frantically to squeeze her thighs together
and press her hips as deeply into the chair as she could as he slowly lowered
the squirming, angrily buzzing insect towards her crotch while it's companions
in the wasp nest droned an evil chorus.

	"Brandi, there are consequences to refusing a King!"

	He helpfully positioned the furious wasp's plunging black stinger next
to her bare, defenseless clit. Unlike a bee, which can only sting once, a wasp
has no barb on it's stinger. The frenzied wasp jabbed it home repeatedly, each
excruciating jackhammer jab injecting a minim of venom into her aching love
nubbin.

	Eyes bulging, flushing brick red right down her shaking breasts,
Brandi's British reserve broke completely. Her lovely face twisted in anguish.
The bare bummed buxom beauty bucked berserkly. 

	Brandi shreiked and screamed and screeched, the blood pulsing in her
fiery-red face, every cord in her neck standing out like a taut steel cable
about to snap.

	She screamed until the snot ran. Then she took a great ragged, sobbing
breath and screamed some more.

	Everyone was grateful for the gag as poor Brandi shreiked long, hard and
high, her entire being consumed by the raging fire that flamed fiercely between
her trembling naked thighs.

	Whitey deftly slipped the wasp back into the bucket and covered it up.
The two ashen-faced stewardesses watched Brandi hump her hips like a jackhammer,
bare buttocks bouncing, screeching like a madwoman, trying vainly to handle the
agony of her burning, grotesquely swelling penis fimineus. Her labia distended
fully as the powerful wasp venom worked it's evil magic, eating into pain
receptors in the very core of her being.

	As Brandi screamed herself hoarse and her vocal cords tore, Whitey gave
a quick pep talk to Sherry and Meredith, a coach giving his players the game
plan.

	"You're going to meet King Mumboli. He likes his babes nude and really
friendly."

	He undid their seatbelts so that they could peel while he told them
exactly what King Mumboli liked.


 
     	Chapter 4 - Jungle Queens

	Ingrid groaned as she swayed, suspended on a pole shouldered by two
sturdy tribeswomen who handled her weight effortlessly while they trekked
through the jungle. Her head felt like someone had used a nail gun to staple
down her brain. The last thing she remembered was wondering where the float
plane was, not to mention that there was no trace of a lake. Presumably, her
'faithful' guide had knocked her cold and was somehow responsible for her
current fate.

	She did a quick self-inventory. She seemed to have lost her hiking
boots. Her belt was unbuckled, her pants were unzipped and her cunt burned. She
presumably had Jimmy to thank for that.

	A feeling of unaccustomed freedom told her that she was missing her bra
and panties as well. Perhaps Jimmy liked souvenirs. If there was any justice in
the world, these black bitches had done him in and kidnapped her from her
kidnapper. Light-headed, she tried to work out the genealogy. Did that make
Jimmy a kidnapper once removed?

	Suspended by her wrists and ankles from the pole, poor swaying Ingrid
tried to clear her head and focus. She wondered if her captors spoke English.

	"Um, speak-ee en-glish?"

	One of the female warriors looked down at her disdainfully.

	"A better question, my dear Ingrid, is whether that whack on the head
has scrambled
your brains completely!"

	Ingrid felt stupid.

	"Um, er, sorry. You seem to speak excellent English."

	"Just because we're primitive savages doen't mean that we're
inarticulate!"

	Raped and beaten, Ingrid was confused, which led inevitably to another
stupid question.

	"Sorry! I'm an anthropologist. Is English your native language then?"

	This drew an inevitable sarcastic response.

	"Do you really think that there are entire tribes in Africa that speak
English with a London accent, my dear dimbulb anthropologist?"

	Shalla's tribe had early recognized her superior intelligence and, being
female warriors and strong believers in favouring the talented, had pooled their
funds to finance her education at an exclusive girls boarding school in England.
The fact that she had been tormented mercilessly by her white classmates as the
only 'nignog' in the school was unfortunate.

	Particularly unfortunate for Ingrid, Shalla's principle tormentress had
been a gorgeous blond, Amanda. Of course, Shalla being a very bright girl, that
particular score had been settled thoroughly. Her former tormentress was working
hard to amuse everyone by stripping naked and opening all her orifices for
business in a Bangkok bordello when she wasn't recuperating from one of the S&M
pain shows. A high breasted beauty with flowing golden tresses, Amanda's pale
white skin displayed her deep flushes and angry red welts beautifully. Her
crimson, well-paddled bottom was widely admired on the internet. The pain freaks
who ran the bordello in Bangkok spent a lot of time and ingenuity making the
English bitch scream for the cameras time and time again.

	"Smile, Ingrid!"

	Shalla ran Ingrid's video camera, capturing the lovely young
anthropologist swaying  on the pole with her unbuckled trousers slipping down
revealingly. This wasn't exactly the sort of footage Ingrid had hoped for.

	"Um, I just want to watch your tribal rituals and interview you. I'm
here strictly as an observer. I mean you no harm!"

	Shalla broke the bad news to her.

	"Ingrid, you naive little muffin! It's a tribe of female warriors.
Observer equals spy. Spy equals a gruesome, protracted death."

	Shalla, a graduate summa cum laude of Pervert U., loved sweating the
golden whitebread bitches, persuading them to wade ever deeper into the shit
pit.

	"Look, I know what an anthropologist is, but these other women are
deeply distrustful! You can't be a long-lived warrior without full-blown
paranoia being a huge component of your personality!"

	There was a long pause while Ingrid absorbed this deeply depressing
factoid. Suddenly, Shalla's face brightened.

	"I know! You could join the tribe!"

	Ingrid was pathetically eager.

	"Yes! Yes! I could do that!"

	Shalla's face clouded with doubt.

	"Um, there's an initiation ritual designed to weed out the unworthy. If
you fail, you get sacrificed on the three-way guillotine!"

	Shalla let out a rueful laugh.

	"Silly me! Of course, right now you're going to be sacrificed anyway, so
you don't have much to lose!"

	Ingrid's major career moves had been made stark naked, featuring many
intimate exchanges of bodily fluids. She thought of herself as physically tough
and adventurous and, compared to most academics, she certainly was.

	Then, of course, there was the real world.

	Ingrid was foolishly eager. 	

	"Look, I've studied the martial arts. I'm a modern woman, not a
fluff-headed chicken who needs a big, strong man to protect her when he's not
abusing her! What's involved that you think I can't handle?"

	Shalla spoke seriously.

	"It's basically a series of trials to see if you're tough enough."

	Ingrid was positive.

	"I can do it!"

	As Ingrid was carried into the village, Shalla relayed the good news to
the others. Her black sisters grinned broadly in a display of strong,
startlingly white teeth. It seemed that they all shared Shalla's delightful
sense of fun.

	"You have to strip naked, Ingrid!"

	This was something Ingrid was rather good at. She did a playful
striptease for the girls, slowly unbuttoning her blouse, coyly eyeing the
fiercer-looking warriors who watched her impassively, though one gave her a sly,
encouraging wink. Courtesy of the enterprising Jimmy Whitcomb, she didn't have
much to remove. She dramatically dropped her pants to her ankles and languidly,
with lazy-bitch insolence, stepped out of them. Shalla grinned.

	"Nice tits, nice nips, nice buns and a natural blond! Quite a lovely
package! Hands behind your back, Ingrid!"

	Ingrid's wrists were crossed and tied to a rope which was looped around
her neck. The rope connecting her wrists to her neck was tightened brutally,
pulling her wrists high up on her back, forcing her breasts out and partly
strangling her. As her pretty face turned purple, her legs were spread and each
dainty ankle was tied to the end of a leg-spreading pole. As she was prepped,
the female warriors strapped on huge ebony dildoes.

	"The first trial is a rape-a-thon, since if a female warrior is
captured, that's what happens."

	Shalla held up a smooth wooden ball attached by a short chain to a ten
pound weight. She pressed it against Ingrid's lips.

	"Open up, Ingrid! Hold the ball in your mouth."

	Ingrid opened and Shalla popped the ball between her lips. Her jaw
muscles tightened as she held the smooth ball in her mouth, supporting the ten
pound weight swinging between her breasts with difficulty. Shalla explained.

	"The skill-testing element is that you must keep your lips together,
Ingrid. If you drop the ball, you lose! Comport yourself with dignity as
behooves a brave warrior meeting her fate!"

	Dignity was difficult as the first grinning warrior stepped up behind
her quivering nakedness and, with a quick brutal thrust of her hips, rammed her
dildo home. Ingrid's eyes bulged and she squealed through closed lips as her
burning cuntlips stretched achingly wide to accomodate the thick, unlubricated
shaft.

	The weight banged against her jiggling chest as the choking beauty was
reamed vigorously. Each warrior had five minutes with her blond rape toy. Each
was larger than the previous one.

	Ingrid, with the mouth muscles of an experienced tongue-wrestler, held
on to the smooth grimly. The inevitable drooling around the edges made gripping
the smooth ball tricky but, as an experienced mouth whore, she managed. Snot ran
in two thin, runny streams from her nostrils as she sobbed and quaked making the
ball ever more slippery. The grinning warriors had one more trick for their pet
white bitch.

	Her tight buttocks were prised open and her anal orifice opened for
business by a slim, prickly shaft. Ingrid opened her mouth wide and shreiked
like a banshee.

	Ingrid stared numbly in horror at the ball rolling by her feet. Shalla
was warmly encouraging, wanting to keep Ingrid in the game and struggling hard
for as long as possible.

	"Very good, Ingrid! Everone's much impressed! Don't worry, Ingrid! It's
a two out of three event! You can still win! We'll move right on to the fish
hooks."

	Her jaw muscles hadn't ached this much since she had blown an entire
basketball team for some play-off tickets. Those black dudes had been huge,
they'd had serious stamina and they had really, really, really BELIEVED in
making the white bitch work hard for her play-off tickets.

	Ingrid licked her swollen lips.

	"Fish hooks?"    



	Chapter 5 - True Confessions

	Swinging his tool box jauntily, Whitey Nairobi whistled happily as he
strode along the cool concrete corridor to the thick metal door at the end. He
put the key in the lock and slowly opened the heavy door to The Sweatbox.

	Standing in the middle of the steamy room, lovely Linn stared fearfully
at him, flushed and sweltering in her bra and panties. Dainty wrists tightly
bound behind her back and glossy red lips firmly wrapped around a large ball
gag, luscious Linn was his sort of milk white meat.

	Whitey dropped his tool box on the floor and slammed the door behind
him. He snapped the chain hanging from the ceiling onto the strong plastic strap
that clamped Linn's wrists tightly together. Using two more of the strong
plastic ties, he fastened each of Linn's slim elegant ankles to large ringbolts
imbedded in the concrete floor, spreading her superb legs nicely. He went to the
wall and carefully cranked up the chain attached to her wrists until she was
humbly bent over in front of him, balancing precariously on tiptoe, every muscle
stretched taught under her creamy smooth skin.

	Linn watched apprehensively as he knelt down and opened his tool box. He
took out a pair of scissors and snipped off her sweat sodden bra and panties.
Her full, ripe breasts and pretty pink quim quivered delectably as she shivered
despite the heat.

	Whitey ungagged her and raised a bottle of warm water to her lips. Linn
gulped the brackish water thirstily. It tasted a bit salty because Whitey had
pissed in it, but poor parched Linn had no way of knowing that. Grinning, he
generously let her drink long and deep. Despite his name, Whitey was as black as
a coal pit at midnight. He loved making the white-skinned sluts sweat.

	Linn stood on tiptoe, dripping with perspiration, her guts tense and
queasy as she unwillingly bowed before him.

	When, at last, she had drunk her fill of piss water, Linn tried to
explain.

	"Look, there's been some kind of mistake. I'm not a drug smuggler! The
drugs must have been planted-eh-ehhrrb."

	Playfully, Whitey started to ease the gag back into her mouth. Linn was
frantic to convince him of her innocence. She clamped her pearly white teeth
tightly together, hoping that he would allow her to say more. The gag was so
frustrating. She couldn't argue her innocence with it in place. With the gag in
place, she was a helpless victim to be broken into mindless acquiescence and
then turned over to the legal system of this small, deeply religious African
country for a long, brutal public execution. What Linn wanted, above all, was to
avoid having her beautiful bare body slowly and carefully carved up in front of
an approving audience.

	      Whitey let her grind her pearly whites together while he held the
back of her head firmly with one hand and lightly pressed the thick rubber ball
against her unwilling lips with the other. He liked letting his playmates wear
themselves out in futile struggles, first arousing their hopes, and then cruelly
dashing them.

	He stood, calmly listening to her molars grate against each other for
long minutes. Linn began to have hopes that she could outwait him, that he would
relent and listen to her.

	As he saw hope growing large in her big neautiful eyes, he gave her
aching jaw muscles a hard painful pinch. Her teeth parted and the ball gag was
popped back in place. Linn squealed in pain and frustration as the ball gag was
buckled tightly in position. Whitey hummed contentedly.

	He could have told Linn that they had been waiting for her for weeks,
that informers had turned her in long before she had even arrived at the
airport, that her luggage had not been searched at random, in short that they
had her cold. He could have told her that maybe she could make a deal as they
knew that this was her first drug-smuggling effort: to co-operate in breaking
the drug ring in exchange for her freedom.

	He could have, but he didn't. After all, he had helped set her up.

	Whitey loved making his naked white meat resist him every obscene step
of the way. He smiled at Linn as her gaze strayed to the disquieting contents of
his toolbox.

	A strong believer in encouraging mental meltdowns, Whitey took out some
of his instruments. He held the long, thin needles before Linn's anxious eyes.

	"These are used to probe the most sensitive portions of the female
anatomy. I find that working generous amounts of baby oil into these tender
flesh parts amplifies the pain quite nicely."

	This wasn't quite true. Whitey just liked his satin meat wet, dripping
and thoroughly groped and fondled. Linn's breasts quivered magnificently as he
pulled out a large bottle of baby oil and began squirting it on and lovingly
working it into the soft creamy skin of her glistening, milk white mammaries.

	Her smooth bare belly was oiled next. As he rubbed in the oil with
strong, smooth strokes, he noted approvingly the quaking of her firm young
viscera.

	Last and best, he delved between her widespread legs and painstakingly
worked the baby oil into every crack and cranny of her tight, moist orifice. He
lovingly spread, parted and exposed every square inch of exquisitely sensitive,
deeply private skin. He sprayed oil and massaged it in thoroughly with strong
probing fingers. As his well-lubricated digits slipped slickly and repeatedly in
and out of her most intimate cavity, Linn whimpered, feeling more degraded and
more deeply violated than she had thought possible.

	Whitey lit the small brazier in the corner. Linn's heart was hammering
against her ribs like a trip hammer. Her big bare breasts shuddered and swayed
as she saw him pull the small branding irons from his toolbox and set them in
the brazier to heat.

	Linn squirmed uncomfortably as she watched him pull out the electric
prod. At first, she didn't know what it was. He held it inches from her sweating
face, pressed the button and was gratified to see understanding dawn in her
terrified eyes as a bright blue spark sizzled across the contact points with a
fierce snap of raw power. Caught by surprise, Linn's callipygous buttocks
clenched reflexively, dimpling prettily as she tried to jerk back. Her erect
nipples sprayed drops of sweat as she shook and shivered in terror.

	Whitey grinned. He turned on the microphone that dangled from the
ceiling in front of Linn's lips to record her confession. He removed the gag.

	Linn looked up at him, unwilling to confess everything and thus sign her
own painful death warrant. Her pretty pouty lips trembled delicately as she
pleaded.

	"I didn't do it! I didn't smuggle those drugs. I didn't know they were
there! Please let me go. It would cause a lot of bad publicity for you and your
government if you torture and kill an innocent person!"

	Whitey patted her on the head and gave her tits a friendly fondle.

	"Don't bother your pretty little head about bad publicity. If you are
innocent, you can't confess to any of those little details that only a guilty
person would know. Once you let one of those slip, no more Mister Nice Guy!
Nobody minds when a nasty drug smuggler gets squeezed hard. Until then, I can
inflict no lasting injury."

	He glanced at the microphone and spoke piously.

	"Indeed, I will be gentleness itself as I conduct this very serious
inquiry!"

	Linn chattered quickly, nervously, pathetically eager to gain sympathy,
to explain it all away.

	"My husband died! I don't have his income any more, so I came here to
look for a job..."

	Whitey gripped her plump pink nipple between his strong fingers and
clamped his hand over her mouth as he pinched and twisted brutally. Linn hummed
frantically into his hand. He spoke reproachfully and loudly to cover any
squealing that might get through to the recording, not that it really mattered.

	"I want to hear about the smuggling, not some sad sob story!"

	He removed his hand. Linn, panting hard, tried desperately to sound as
plausible as possible.

	"I'm telling you! I don't know anything about the coke in my suitcase. I
never saw it before! It must have been planted on me. After I had inadvertently
smuggled it across the border, whoever planted it on me was probably going to
steal my briefcase."

	 Whitey took a razor strop from his toolbox. He bumped the microphone to
cover the sound as he slashed it across her delectable bare bum. Linn  gasped.

	"Don't sass me, woman! How did you know it was coke? Nobody said it was
coke!"

	"Coke's white, isn't it? I saw that it was white!"

	"So's heroin and crack."

	Linn affected surprise.

	"Oh! I didn't know that!"

	He clamped his hand over her mouth and pinched her other pink plump
nipple, twisting and yanking it painfully. Linn emitted a muffled yelp as he
spoke loudly.

	"Of course you know! You did it - why?"

	Whitey withdrew his hand. Linn licked her lips very nervously indeed.
Her damp hair was curled and plastered to her head, framing her superbly
scuplted cheekbones. Breasts shaking, her aching nipples swollen, she reeked of
fear sweat.

	"I didn't do it! Honest!"

	He snapped the electic probe in front of her eyes again. Linn flinched.

	"Just tell me about it. Make it easy on yourself!"

	"Look, even if you hurt me, I can't tell you about something I know
nothing about!"

	He ran his finger along the angry red welt on her burning rump. Linn
winced. He reached between her trembling thighs and delicately twisted and
tugged at her pubic hairs while he spoke. He loved playing the fuckmeat, making
them sweat and tell him hopeful lies.

	"That's right! You can't, but if I don't sweat you good then I can't be
certain that you won't let some incriminating little detail slip, the little
detail that only a guilty person could know. If you're innocent, you can't tell
me anything you don't know and we'll eventually have to let you go with our
sincere apologies for any inconvenience you may have suffered. Well, that ends
this first little session!"

	He turned off the mike and glared angrily at her.

	"Now we get serious!"

	Linn stared fearfully at the electric prod and pleaded beseechingly.

	"Hurting innocent people won't do your country's reputation any good!
You're trying to attract tourists, aren't you? Is this the way to do it?"

	He touched the electric probe to the back of her quivering thigh and
pressed the button. Linn screamed hoarsely as the largest muscle in her body
spasmed painfully.

	"What did you say, slut?"

	"I DIDN'T DO IT!!!"

	Linn looked at him frantically. He touched the prod to her bare bum and
pressed the button. Linn shreiked piercingly as her buns clenched and quivered
convulsively.

	"Fucking Christ! I'll do anything! Anything at all! Please don't use
that thing on me. I'll do anything!"

	Whitey smiled. This was the music he liked to hear. He sqeezed one of
her bare boobs gently.

	"Anything?"

	Linn looked at him with total sincerity.

	"You name it. I'll do it!"

	He reached between her legs and rubbed her cuntlips softly.

	"Any wicked little thing at all?"

	Suddenly believing that she could fuck her way to freedom, Linn babbled
excitedly.

	"That's right!"

	He touched the prod to her neatly shaven armpit. Linn whimpered. He
pressed the button. Linn's breast jerked as the current convulsed her pectoral.
When she had quietened down, Whitey flicked the mike back on.

	"You offered me sexual services just now, didn't you?"

	Linn was confused and frustrated. Deep in the pain locker, she hadn't
noticed that she was being recorded again.

	"Yes, yes I did! What's wrong with that? Don't you want it? Everybody
likes a good fuck!"

	"Only a dirty little whore would behave like that! You're guilty as
hell! Tell me about the forty kilos of coke in your suitcase!"

	Linn was surprised. Unthinkingly, she blurted out her protest.

	"It was only five kilos!"

	Whitey smiled. Linn could have bitten her tongue, glancing nervously at
the tape recorder, suddenly aware that the tape was turning.

	"How do you know that, Linn?"

	Linn stuttered her reply.

	"I-I, um, er, overheard one of the guards say it!"

	Whitey spoke gently.

	"It was weighed after you were taken away, Linn. Only a guilty person
would know the exact amount. You're a self convicted, lying little slut! Time to
get tough and see what you really know!"

	Linn screamed shrilly as the razor strop was snapped crisply and
repeatedly into her taut bare thighs and quivering asscheeks. Her welts blazed
brightly like stripes on a barber pole. Whitey paused briefly and took careful
aim.

	Linn was blubbering hoarsely when the razor strop cracked between her
parted thighs and kissed her genitals hard. Linn squealed like a boiled pig as
her battered chuff box exploded in agony. She raised her pain-contorted face,
looked at Whitey with tearful, big brown eyes and began stuttering.

	"I-I-I-..."

	Whitey realized that the stupid bitch was about to confess everything.
No fun in that. He popped a ball gag between her parted, trembling lips and
buckled it tight. Linn snivelled frustratedly into the gag.

	"We don't seem to be getting anywhere, my creamy white marshmellow, so
I'm changing the rules. You only get to talk when I let you. Maybe you'll have
more to say if talking is a privilege!"

	Linn looked up frantically to communicate her eagerness to confess and
tell him absolutely everything. Whitey smiled at the incomprehensible, muffled
effort. He waved his hand dismissively.

	"Please! No more lies!"

	Linn squealed like a boiled lobster as he inserted the ice cold
speculum, squeezed the handle and opened her cunt wide. He thoughtfully picked
up the tenaculum, a small metal pincer on the end of a long rod operated by a
squeeze handle. He held the tenaculum in front of Linn's bulging eyes. She
watched in gibbering horror as he squeezed the handle and the pincers snapped
shut.

	Linn struggled futilely as the long tenaculum was inserted inside her.
She began hyperventilating as she felt the jaws of the chilled steel pincer
touch her intimately. She screamed hard into the gag as it bit viciously into
her moist, exquisitely tender cavity.

	Whitey grinned. This was the way he liked his white meat - hot and
helpless. Linn's big brown eyes bulged as he positioned  the tenaculum carefully
and squeezed the handle again.

	Linn went berserk. Her naked torso bucked and heaved. She danced and
pranced, gasped, shreiked and bawled hysterically. The gag thwarted completely
her manic efforts to break down and confess.

	At last, Whitey removed the tenaculum. Linn stood on tiptoe, bent over
humbly, reeking acridly of fear-sweat and urine, panting fast and hard, shaking
badly.

	Whitey decided that the foreplay was over. He unzipped, pulled out his
bulging blacksnake and encunted her. He pumped hard and then powerfully sprayed
copious quantities of hot milk into her raw, aching void. So powerful was his
ejaculation that Linn could almost taste it.

	He decunted and wiped his dripping member off in Linn's hair. He removed
the gag. Linn eagerly blurted out a complete confession to the tape recorder.

	He gently asked her questions. She told him all the things that only the
truly guilty could know. Gratefully, sobbing in relief at being given the
opportunity to tell all, she babbled out everything: names, addresses, times,
who did what when, everything.

	He turned off the recorder and patted her burning rump.

	"I'll just pass this to the British Ambassador. It will help greatly in
the anti-drug crusade back home. To ensure that he won't make any waves when
you're executed, we'll invite him to attend! The King and I went to Oxford with
him, doncha know. The three of us often went to Hamburg together to watch them
make the bitches scream during school breaks!"

	Linn bawled hoarsely as viscous white pearls of Whitey's man-oil
dribbled stickily down the inside of her thighs.

	
	Chapter 6 - The Happy Hooker

	Ingrid whimpered as the first fish hook pierced her cuntlip. The other
five weren't any easier. Three on one lip and three on the other. Shalla coached
her enthusiastically.

	"You're doing great, Ingrid! Just like a true warrior!"

	Ingrid eyed the thick, greased spike apprehensively. She was still bound
as before. The choke rope was holding her wrists up high behind her back. Her
legs were still spread wide by the pole fastened to her dainty ankles. The busty
blond anthropologist was stark naked, totally exposed, completely vulnerable.

	"We're going to lift you up and the spike will go a little way into your
cunt. You're an experienced woman of the world. You can handle it!"

	As an experienced woman of the world, having a dirty, greasy pole shoved
up her newly pierced, swollen, bruised cunt was the absolute last thing Ingrid
wanted to handle. Sensing that her player was losing her enthusiasm for the
game, coach Shalla knew a motivational pep talk was in order.

	She showed Ingrid the three-way guillotine.

	"It looks a lot like an ordinary guillotine, doesn't it? You're hung on
the upright frame upside down. Your leg-spreader fits in those big hooks that
travel up and down the frame on pulleys. Once your leg spreader is in the hooks,
the hooks are adjusted until your big yummy knockers are on a level with those
two holes. We push your breasts through the holes. We push your head forwards
through that large third hole that's underneath and between the other two. Then
we crank up that heavy board on the bottom until it's resting against the back
of your head, so that your head is bent forward and looking up, between your
tits, at the large descending blade. A series of straps hugs you tightly against
the frame. We release that huge, heavy blade and your last sight in this world
will be your sliced off tits hitting you in the face just after the blade chops
off your head."

	Ingrid was sweating nicely. Shalla gave her a bright, happy-nigger
smile.

	"Are you suddenly feeling a lot better about getting the greasy pole up
your cunt, Ingrid?"

	Ingrid gave a short, rueful laugh.

	"You are so persuasive, Shalla, you silver-tongued rogue!"

	Shalla was surprised and delighted at this show of spirit, but then,
Ingrid was a lot more inured to sexual abuse than the average female.

	"Where did you find a toy like that in the jungle?"

	Shalla grinned.

	"It's one of the benefits of a higher education. A little bargain I
picked up during a shopping trip in Hamburg."

	Ingrid arched an eyebrow at her.

	"So they were having a sale on tit-slicers and you just couldn't
resist?"

	Shalla nodded.

	"Exactly! Europe is so sophisticated!"

	"So! Here you are, bringing civilisation to your people!"

	"Absolutely, old bean!"

	Ingrid gave a rueful snort.

	"What's the deal with the fish hooks?"

	"We hang weights from them. You'll be surprised how far cuntlips can be
stretched!"

	Ingrid grunted as the heavy weights were attached, stretching her labia
far down between her quivering thighs.

	"We insert the pole."

	She was lifted into the air by strong black hands. Ingrid sobbed as the
rounded end of the thick pole parted her swollen cuntlips and penetrated the
bimbo's bruised box a single inch.

	"We add two more fish hooks."

	Ingrid gasped as her nipples were pierced and weighted heavily, dragging
her tits down to her waist.

	"This last hook has a little bell attached."

	Shalla tinkled the bell playfully and knelt between Ingrid's legs.
Ingrid screamed shrilly as her clit was pierced by the barbed fish hook. Shalla
ran the hook along the length of Ingrid's clit like a fisherman putting on a
worm.

	Shalla waited for Ingrid to calm down a bit before explaining the
contest.

	"You see the two marks on the pole, six inches apart?"

	Ingrid looked down between her legs and nodded. One mark was just below
her cuntlips and the other was six inches below that.

	"You have to slide up and down the pole sixty times without tinkling the
bell. You have to completely cover and then completely uncover the two marks
with your cunt."

	Shalla grinned lewdly.

	"Do you think that you're woman enough to handle it?"

	"Do I have a choice?"

	"There's always the three-way guillotine!"

	Ingrid began doing the most excruciating deep knee bends that she had
ever experienced: slowly, obscenely, agonizingly penetrating herself for a
wondrously invasive seven inches and then pulling herself up again. The grinning
black bitches watched the beautiful blond bimbo degrade herself for their
amusement, the large pole disappearing, inch by agonizing inch, into her cunt
and then, slowly and painfully, re-emerging.

	To Ingrid's horror, her exhausted inner thigh muscles began to tremble
from the unceasing, brutally obscene exertion.

	It was near sundown when the tiny bell tinkled merrily between her legs.

	Emitting loud war-hoops, the howling black bitches descended on her.
Ingrid found herself de-poled and strapped upside down on the three-way
guillotine. Eager hands pushed her tits through the holes. Her hair was pulled
forward and she found herself staring up between her tits at the thin gleaming
blade, heavily weighted across the top. The heavy board was cranked up to hold
her neck in place.

	Shalla was right.

	The last thing Ingrid saw was her sliced off breasts hitting her in the
face as all three rolled down the chute into the basket. The warriors looked up
between Ingrid's long lovely legs, splayed wide, jerking spastically, as a
golden fountain spurted prettily in the dying sun.
	      

	
	Chapter 7 - Execution Day in Deepest, Darkest Africa

	It was Execution Day at the Women's Prison in the small African Kingdom.
Until King Mumboli came to the throne, there had been no executions at all, only
boorishly brutal bloodbaths as tribes warred viciously. Now they were a popular
regular event and peace reigned in the kingdom. King Mumboli and Whitey Nairobi
were old buddies. Their affiliation with Die Singvogel and their attendance at
the annual Frauleinschlachtfest in Hamburg had taught them how to put on a good
show.  

	The fact that he only executed white foreigners further endeared King
Mumboli to his people. The seldom seen whites were regarded with deep suspicion,
fueled by the native experience with slavers, colonizing European armies,
invading Italian armies, Rommel's Afrika Korps and, most recently, some red-neck
Americans who had been running a "coon hunt" safari using helicopters to run
down and shoot the locals for sport. Their clientel had consisted of  wealthy
businessmen eager to "stalk the most dangerous animal on earth - man!" (well, at
any rate, that's what the brochures called shooting peaceful herders from a
helicopter).

	The "coon hunt" had ended abruptly when one of the helicopters
malfunctioned and the hunters became the hunted. It turned out that fat
whiteboys, no matter how obscenely rich, were no match for athletic, vengeful
natives on their own ground. Staked out naked in the burning sun with their
eyelids cut off, the fat American businessmen's fair skin burned a bright red.
Their screams, after their genitals had been removed and stuffed into their
gaping mouths, settled down to pathetic parched croaks.

	In the deepest dark of the terrifying African night, the rich,
whimpering whiteboys were silenced permanently when the hyenas discovered the
fat, juicy, medium-rare meat laid out for dinner. After that, the "coon hunts"
had ceased, but native distrust of the white devils was red hot.

	The crowd murmured their excitement as the first two victims were
trotted out. As usual, King Mumboli refused to even discuss the white beauties'
crimes. They were too hideous for any decent person to even think about. He
feared that it would "unhinge his people's minds" if they knew the sick,
twisted, dark deeds these young blonds had committed. This, of course, fanned
the wildest rumours imaginable.

	Whitey Nairobi had known that the two stewardesses were guilty of
something impressive from the moment he had laid eyes on them at the small
airport. From then on, their fate was sealed. Whitey always explained that he
was not a racist. He just happened to prefer blonds and redheads.

	After failing to please the King, something to do with their total
unwillingness to tongue his rectum, Sherry and Meredith had been turned over to
Whitey for further coaching and ultimate disposal. On the other hand, after a
shaky start, Brandi, the red-headed English stewardess, was doing well. As long
as your idea of doing well is spending a lot of your day stark naked, with your
pretty face buried in a fat King's butt crack tonguing his asshole while
masturbating him, young Brandi was doing very well indeed.

	Failing to satisfy a demanding Monarch has consequences. Once the two
blond stewardesses had been taken to his underground chambers, Whitey's powers
of persuasion soon had them opening every orifice for him and confessing to
anything and everything. Whitey was not a greedy man. He was willing to share
his bitches, once he tired of them. Lovely Sherry and beautiful Meredith soon
found themselves opening their holes to the King's guards. Since there was
always a shift of guards arriving or leaving, Sherry and Meredith were busy
bimbos indeed. With the prevalence of AIDS in Africa, the guards rejoiced in the
arrival of fresh, clean, blond rape toys.

	Part one of a good snuff show is stripping the bitches.

	The two terrified stewardesses protested volubly as their thin cotton
shifts were jerked off over their heads while their panties were yanked down to
their ankles. Aside from their gleaming black high heels, that pretty well
covered the dress code for fucksluts, so they were naked for everyone's
delectation in no time.

	Two T-shaped poles were resting on trestles, waiting to receive the
bodacious bimbos. The two stewardesses were laid face up on top of the poles.
Their arms were hooked over the crosspiece at the top. Their slim wrists were
pulled down and tied to the back of the pole. Their sleek ankles were crossed
and tied together behind the pole. Whitey made a little speech, well received,
speaking mysteriously about turning white bitches into brown ones. The local
dialect contained a lot of  tongue clicking and lip smacking and Whitey, with
his thick lips, was a master.

	The stewardesses shouted out, trying frantically to make themselves
understood. The crowd murmured uneasily that the evil witches were cursing them.
Whitey reassured them that the wicked wenches thought that their good looks
would save them and were offering themselves shamelessly to the husbands and
elders.

	He turned them over to the women.

	Part two of a good snuff show is involvement: audience and victim
participation. Getting the audience to help, combined with knowing what your
victims cannot handle, is the key to success. The audience is gripped thoroughly
and your victims become lively bitches indeed. 

	The native women trundled out a wheelbarrow of shit and began lathering
it onto and into the two blubbering beauties. They were quietened down by the
simple expedient of slapping a handful of rectal excreta into their mouths every
time they opened them. Eager black fingers parted their cuntlips and rammed
moist turds deep inside. Their big, jiggling breasts were liberally bemerded.
Excrement was worked into their hair, their earholes, between their toes, under
their fingernails, rubbed into their eyes and smeared over their ass globes.

	Whitey liked his sluts smooth shaven, so they had no cunt hair. The
native women looked on this with wonder as they worked fecal matter into vaginal
folds and crevices. A bucket of honey was poured over each squirming
stewardesses' face, breasts, belly and crotch. They shreiked shrilly as thick
bamboo tubes filled with honey were jammed forcibly up their cunts and tied to
the pole. A trail of honey was laid from the bamboo cunt tubes down the pole.

	When the two beauties had been liberally coated inside and out with
soft, nasty ordure and soaked with honey, their poles were hoisted up by the men
and set in holes in the ground. High in the air, squirming and squealing
frantically, the naked stewardesses were soon enveloped in a buzzing, black
cloud of stinging, biting, voracious African insects. In the hot, humid climate,
it didn't take long for a stream of fire ants to find their way up the poles,
following the honey trail, and into the bamboo cunt tubes, performing agonizing
excavations with their fiery, acid-dripping pincers deep inside moist, intimate,
feminine cavities. Sherry and Meredith shreiked madly, writhing insanely for the
deeply approving crowd. This was how a white she-devil should be treated.

	Prince Mumboli and Whitey Nairobi had met at Oxford University and
formed an instant bond. Prince Mumboli had been sent by his father to get an
education. Whitey had made sure that Prince Mumboli received one, introducing
him to the sessions at Die Singvogel in Hamburg on school holidays and finally
taking him to the annual Frauleinschlactfest. When the old King died suddenly,
the newly crowned King Mumboli invited his old friend Whitey to set up some
edifying spectacles based on what they had seen in Hamburg.

 	The newly crowned King Mumboli had a big problem. His father had
survived by personally supervising the slaughter of the smaller tribes by the
bigger tribes, staying on the winning side in carefully orchestrated bloodbaths.
Now there were only big tribes left. If they went at each other's throats, chaos
would ensue and the new King could not be sure which would be the winning side.

	The former Prince made use of his expensive Oxford education and united
them against a common enemy, the white man. The fact that there wasn't a white
man in sight was both a blessing and a problem. He and his good friend Whitey
solved this conundrum by discretely, but regularly, kidnapping a few bitches for
public slaughter by his bloodthirsty subjects. Snuffing white bitches specially
imported for the purpose was not only fun, but actually proved beneficial. It
provided a regular release for his subjects' violent urges without destroying
the country or, even worse, having the new King's head paraded through the small
kingdom atop a bloody spear. As an added bonus, the King's Royal Statisticians
had proved that, nine months after a public execution, there was a noticeable
increase in the birth rate.

	It was good, wholesome family entertainment. Everyone watched the two
nude stewardesses writhing and shreiking atop their poles for the edification of
all. Mothers held their children up to see the devil bitches jerking and
jiggling frantically, their skin acrawl with biting, stinging, pinching insects,
answering for their heinous, unmentionable crimes.

	Part three of a good snuff show is pacing.

	After a decent interval, Whitey decided it was time to unveil his next
attraction.

	The next exhibits could be seen only as big breasted forms squirming
under white sheets as they were wheeled out on slanted tables. A large, deep
bucket on the end of a rope hung from the higher end of each table. A heavy
brick was in the bucket. Whitey jerked the sheets aside.

	Trish and Kate were superb specimens. The red-headed journalism students
had been sent to Africa with the encouragement of Smedley Hargreaves to observe
the native rituals under the guidance of his good friend Whitey Nairobi. Nobody
could say that they weren't observing the rituals up-close and personal, getting
a real insider's point of view.

	The crowd eyed the fiery haired beauties with amazement. White women
were rare. Red-heads were almost unheard of. Evil witches for sure.

	Each lay on her back on a slanted table. Wrists were tied behind,
lifting bare breasts up and thrusting hips lewdly forward. Ankles were tied
together and hooked to the lower end of the table. A noose ran from each neck
over a pulley to a dangling bucket. Trish and Kate were red-faced, tongues
protruding amd mouths gaping as they gasped for air. Whitey explained to the
crowd.

	"If you urinate into the bucket, it will help us take care of these evil
red-haired witches!"

	While the men eagerly pissed into the bucket to increase the weight on
the strangling noose, the women were amazed at the black high heels, thigh high
black stockings and black elbow-length gloves that were the red-heads' only
adornment. The men were paying more attention to the high-breasted, purple-faced
beauties' jiggling endowments. The women wondered what possible use high heels
would be in the jungle. The whole ensemble looked thoroughly impractical. The
women loved it and concluded that it was probably part of their sinister
sorcery.

	The crowd surrounded the slowly strangling beauties. They eagerly
fingered gasping, choking, sweat-slick bodies, tweaking dark red nipples,
twisting and pinching pouty cuntlips. Trish sobbed as one of the older women
thoughtfully scraped her bloodshot eyeballs with dirty, ragged fingernails.
Trish's heels drummed a tattoo on the table as she coughed and choked, twisting
and jerking to avoid the savagely probing fingers.

	Loops of rope were dropped over their heaving bosoms. A stick was
inserted into each loop and the crowd amused itself seeing how tight they could
twist these 'tit tourniquets' around the base of each bulging breast.

	At Oxford, learning that his country still had the death penalty,
well-meaning critics had told then-Prince Mumboli that it did nothing to prevent
crime. They cited statistics to prove it, urging him to abolish the death
penalty when he came to the throne. Prince Mumboli had replied derisively with
all the arrogance of one born to power, rolling the whites of his eyes
dramatically in his coal black face.	He sarcastically demanded to know where
they got their obviously faulty statistics from. Nobody his country had executed
had ever become a repeat offender. How could these fools even think that it was
possible? The death penalty was therefore 100% successful!

	Since Trish and Kate were conveniently located near the refreshment
stands, their buckets were filling nicely. Mothers held up young children so
they could pee into the buckets to further the cause of justice in the war
against the pale, white, red-haired witches. Tongues protruding, Trish and
Kate's gaping faces were deep purple, matched by the colour of their tightly
strangled breasts as they gagged and choked, their nude, well-groped bodies
racked by deep, painful coughs.

	Part four of a good snuff show is to have your victims' bladders full.

	The crowd laughed coarsely as Trish and Kate peed long and hard. Small
children caught the pee in cups as it poured over the edge of their slanted
tables and gleefully poured the victims' own urine into the piss buckets. The
grown-ups nodded approvingly. Their parents patted them on the head proudly.

	Part five of a good show is to always have a star turn - a grand finale.

	'Black' Hans Dietrich was definitely a star. He had been flown in from
Hamburg for the execution, on loan from Die Singvogel, the underground, very
hard-core, S&M club that hosted the annual Frauleinschlachtfest. His performance
at the last Frauleinschlachtfest had led to today's invitation by King Mumboli.

	He was attended by his bevy of hand-picked pain sluts. He had personally
kidnapped, raped over, broken and trained each one. Deep in anguish, each had
pledged her very life to him and knew that it was a pledge she would be forced
to honour.

	A dedicated craftsman, Hans had warmed up for the execution by taking a
pair of vice-grip needle nose pliers, clamping it around each painslut's clit in
turn and making her scream hard for him. Each had been promised that her pain
would be exquisite when it was her turn to die in his strong, brutal hands.
Their role was atmospheric, surrounding him, writhing in agonising death spasms
as he made his main victim scream long and hard before he turned her lights out
permanently.

	Jeanne, the lead painslut, knew what was required of her. Earlier, she
had dropped to her knees so that she could lick his dick and suck his clean
shaven balls, making Black Hans as hard and cruel as possible for his star turn.

 	Black Hans was stripped to the waist, revealing a massive, magnificent,
ebony torso. The ladies in the crowd all agreed that the bulked-up black
executioner was definitely a man 'to die for'. Black Hans was the result of the
brief, but ecstatic, union of a drunken Afro-American weight lifter and a
particularly heavyset member of the old East German Women's Shotput Team.
Conceived during one of the Olympic Games, Black Hans was the most massively
muscled black man anyone in the audience had ever seen. His bullet head was
shaved smooth. His cruel brown eyes arrogantly surveyed the crowd. Clad only in
jackboots and black leather pants, he definitely sent a thrill of horror through
the audience. This was a man without pity.

	His pain sluts were trotted out one by one. The crowd had been told that
these evil temptresses would be forced to contemplate the consequences of their
ghastly, unspecified crimes as they slowly, agonisingly met a fate befitting
villainous monsters.

	Jeanne, who had been promised that he would slowly slice off her clit
with a razor blade, was first. Hans liked giving his painsluts food for thought,
playing on their secret fears and desires. That morning, as she was
spread-eagled on a padded leather restraining table, he had carefully shaved
Jeanne's pubes. With each stroke of the straight razor, she experienced an
orgasmic frisson of horror, wondering what it would feel like when the blade
slit open her most exquisitely sensitive morsel of flesh. Jeanne had been
captured while horseback riding, one of her favourite pastimes. Hans figured
that a woman who spent a lot of time with a large animal throbbing between her
legs had an unmistakeable interest in the sexual arts.

	Jeanne had not disappointed. Understanding that escape for a white woman
in a land of blacks who thought her evil personified was hopeless, that she
would be hunted pitilessly, she was making the saucy best of it. Wearing only a
black leather vest, tight leather hot pants and thigh-high, shiny black whore
boots, she was paraded to the platform where four special posts, one on each
corner of the platform, awaited the four pain sluts. Tossing her short blond
hair, jet black eyes flashing, boldly embracing her fate, Jeanne stripped for
the crowd.

	She peeled off her black leather vest. Just before going on, Hans had
pumped up her soft breasts using a huge hypodermic filled with vinegar. Her
heavily inflated breasts, looking like twin red balloons about to burst, burned
agonisingly on her chest. Hans had made clear what was expected of her. Jeanne
shook them violently for the crowd, crying out as her bright-red burning boobs
bounced on her chest like twin balls of fire searing her torso.

	Each of the beautiful painsluts stripped in turn: blond Jeanne,
red-haired Nancy, brunette Sandra and black-haired Susan. When they were naked,
each was led to to her cross.

	The T-shaped crosses were laid out on trestles. They were laid with
their backs to the cross and their wrists were tied to either end of the
crosspiece. Their legs were bent back and their ankles tethered to ringbolts set
on either side of the upright at waist level. A thick ridge of wood bolted to
the upright between their shoulder blades forced them to arch out from the
cross, their grotesque, vinegar-inflated breasts projecting from their chests
like twin artillary shells. A steel bar was passed behind their knees and a
heavy iron ball hooked onto it, stretching them cruelly, each rib in their
chests clearly visible, outlined against their taut, stretched skin.

	Black Hans slipped on their steel collars, tightening them until they
couldn't swallow their own spit. Their pretty faces turned cyanotic blue,
tongues protruding, eyes bulging, gagging and choking, drool slowly dripping in
long strings of spit onto their tits. The painsluts' poles were pushed upright.
One was bolted to each corner of the platform, facing outwards.

	Once they were in place, deep in the throes of erotic strangulation,
stiff clits and spasming dripping cunts clearly visible to the crowd, Hans made
the rounds with his straight razor. Each screamed hoarsely as her stiff clit was
cruelly excised. A saw blade on a hinge was pulled out of a slot on the cross
between their legs and locked in place with the teeth upwards. The teeth bit
viciously into their slits and the bleeding stumps of their clits.

	Hans set a small charcoal brazier under the end of each saw blade. The
heat would slowly be transmitted down the blade, gradually turning it red hot.
At that point, the painsluts would be sawing themselves in half as they pumped
their hips against the searing saw blade, writhing and shreiking mindlessly.

	Enough window-dressing. It was time for the main attraction.

	The crowd roared as Linn was carried out by her wrists and ankles,
bucking and heaving, clad only in a flimsy bra and thong. Applause rang out as
she was dragged to the executioner's platform in the middle of the square. They
oohed and aahed as Linn's dainty wrists and slim ankles were strapped to the X
frame and her luscious body was displayed, spread-eagled, under a sign hinting
at her heinous crimes and explicitly spelling out her hideous fate. Children
perched on their parents' shoulders to get a better view.

	Hans picked up a pair of scissors from the implement table next to him.
Three deft snips had her big bare tits jiggling delectably for the crowd as her
bra fluttered to the ground to be snatched up by eager onlookers. Two more snips
revealed her tight slit and richly curled pubic triangle to the onlookers and
provided a fragrant souvenir for the fans as her thong was peeled out of the
crack of her smooth, creamy white ass and dramatically thrown to the crowd.

	To the shreik music of the painslut quartet, Black Hans selected a
portable electric shaver from the implement table. He sheared Linn's head like a
sheep. Her thick tresses were snatched from the air as they dropped to the
ground. Scampering urchins cavorting under the platform seized them gleefully.
They peered up between the slats as Linn's eyebrows and eyelashes were painfully
plucked. The crowd grinned as her pubic hairs were lathered up and scraped away.

	Tears trickled down Linn's lovely cheeks as she glared hate at Hans.

	"You're lower than shark shit and that's at the bottom of the ocean!"

	Her jaws were instantly pried open. Pincers gripped the tip of her wet
tongue and stretched it out at full length. Sweat trickled down Linn's naked
torso as her executioner took his time testing the curved blade of the knife
that he normally used for castrations.

	Black Hans, satisfied at last, leaned forward. Urine sprayed messily as
Linn lost bladder control. Underneath the platform, the urchins squealed,
scampering quickly to avoid the yellow rainshower.

	Her titanic tits shook wildly and she made horrible choking noises as
her carved her tongue out by the roots. The dripping tongue was held up for the
crowd to see and then tossed to the dogs.

	There was surprisingly little blood. Black Hans was a master of his
craft. Linn was left, ashen faced, bright red arterial blood seeping from the
corners of her grimly clamped lips. For the rest of her short life, lovely Linn
would have to keep any more smart comments to herself.

	The executioner selected a bolt cutter from his implement table and held
it high for the crowd to see. They nudged each other knowingly. Mothers
whispered to their children, who looked on eagerly, smiling happily.

	Joint by joint, one by one, her exquisite, finely manicured fingers were
slowly and carefully positioned between the sharp, powerful cutting jaws to give
Linn the idea. The executioner waited while Linn thought carefully about the
pain and disfigurement to come, her eyes riveted frantically on the poised jaws
of the bolt cutter. The crowd went silent, breathlessly awaiting the first snip.

	Linn shreiked as the executioner sudddenly snapped the jaws shut. The
tip of her severed pinky dropped to the ground where it was wolfed down by the
largest dog. Slowly, precisely, each well-manicured, beautifully-cared-for
finger was amputated in three leisurely snips.

	Linn shreiked hoarsely, jerking violently with each brutal snap of the
bolt cutter's cruel jaws. The executioner waited patiently for the screams to
die into sobs and then moved to the next joint. As he snipped the last joint on
each hand, his assistant squirted it with boiling oil to seal the wounds and
prevent Linn from dying prematurely from blood loss.

	When her hands were reduced to ten little stumps, the executioner slowly
lowered the bolt cutters. Linn gasped in horror as it was positioned around her
little toe. She looked at the executioner and whimpered beseechingly. He grinned
and snapped the jaws shut.

	In ten more screams, her pretty little toes joined her pretty little
fingers in the dogs' stomachs.

	He selected a flat bladed skinning knife. Linn shreiked maniacally as he
cut in a circle around the base of each breast and carefully peeled the skin off
her big quivering superdroopers, reducing them to two shivering mounds of raw
red meat. The skin was thoughtfully placed onto stretching frames to make
souvenir lampshades.

	The cliterdectomy was next. Linn looked down in gibbering horror as her
cuntlips were spread wide and the skin peeled back to expose her tiny red
nubbin. She sobbed hysterically as a small scalpel was produced and
painstakingly honed to razor sharpness before her frantic eyes. Hans slowly
lowered it to her waist. The crowd went silent to savour Linn's raw screams and
the painsluts hoarse blubbering as Hans delicately excised her love button.	

	He went to work on her pretty face, carving off her coral pink ears and
throwing them to the dogs for chew toys. Her eyelids were pulled up with
tweezers and deftly sliced off. As the small teaspoon with the sharpened edges
scooped out her pretty blue eyeballs, Linn passed out.

	Vinegar was briskly squirted up her nostrils so that she could feel the
void as her guts were scooped out. Large carrion vultures stalked through the
pile of steaming intestines, fighting each other for the choicer giblets.

	Linn passed out for the last time. No crudeness or cunning brutality
could revive her. Hans removed her heart and left the rest exposed on the frame
for the birds and clouds of buzzing insects to pick over and feast on.

	He turned, his hands dripping blood, to the painsluts. The painsluts
were well into their final death spasms, their vocal cords torn from the
constant shreiking, reducing their shreiks to raw croaks. Their inner thighs
were awash in blood that sizzled and spattered against the red hot saw blades
eating into, and burning into, their crotches. Large vultures had settled on
their shoulders, fighting for the privilege of pecking out their tasty eyeballs.

	"Are we having fun yet, girls?"

	Only painslut Jeanne retained enough vestiges of consciousness to reply
to Hans' sardonic little question.

	"It's like a dream come true!"

	She shreiked one last time as the vultures tore out her eyes and then
she was gone.

       Section 9 - Hamburg
      
       Part 1 - Warm-up Games!
      
       Chapter 1 - The Singing Birds

	In their Hamburg hotel room, Penny and Nicole lounged in their bra and
panties, wondering what to do on their prize trip to the city. Nicole was
indignant. She had been looking through the guidebook, trying to find an
exciting tour or a fun site, reading about the Reperbahn.

	"The Herbertstrasse! Imagine having a street where they don't allow
women! As if all perverts were men!"

	Penny had a very British explanation.

	"It's because they're ignorant foreigners! Anyone who attended an
English boarding school would know better than that! I wonder who Herbert was?"

	"Herbert the Pervert?"

	"Going for a spurt and squirt!"

	The girls giggled. Nicole ran her fingers around the waistband of her
knickers to ease the pressure. She liked them tight and snug to show off her
pouty cuntlips, but it was sometimes a bit uncomfortable. She arched her back
restlessly. Her nipples were clearly visible through her sheer bra.

	"Well, what should we do? Should we visit that underground S&M club like
the tour guide suggested? Might be better than the stupid old Reperbahn with
streets we aren't even allowed on!"

	Penny was scornful.

	"Going to an Underground S&M club called Die Singvogel? I looked it up
and it means the Singing Birds. How corny! Who thinks up these things?"

	Nicole laughed.

	"Well, at least it's a bit more subtle than the one that's called Club
De Sade. That's not even German! I bet Die Singvogel is just a scam to suck in
the tourists! There'll be a fat, leather-clad hausfrau with a whip dipped in
rouge that has all the force of a feather duster, but leaves a red trail on the
blubbery victim's back so it looks like those lame whippings in the movies! The
fat hausfrau will probably sound like the evil Gestapo captain in those stupid
war films: Ve haff vays to make you zing like a bird, fraulein!"

	Penny, who read far too many romances, agreed.

	"The languishing, overweight victim will probably be stifling a yawn as
she emits a half-hearted cry of anguish."

	Nicole, always anxious to appear a woman of the world, had a suggestion.

	"You're absolutely right, but here's an idea: we could colour it up a
bit when we tell everyone back in Woking. Our friends in Surrey will never know
the difference! The farthest abroad they ever get is a trip to the pub! The fat
hausfrau becomes a busty, cruel-eyed vixen! The rouge-dipped wet noodle becomes
a cracking bullwhip! The blubbery, bored victim becomes a tough, but gorgeous,
beat-me bitch, in love with pain, forced to kiss the very whip that lashes her
pitilessly!"

	Penny grinned.

	"Let's do it!"

	In another room of the same hotel, Shannon pulled a green silk camisole
over her big boobs.

	"I'm going to sleep like a log, Ashley!"

	"You always do! Once you're out, you'd miss the last trump! If only you
didn't snore like a chainsaw!"

	Shannon threw a pillow at Ashley.

	"Get away, you evil minded slut!"

	"What are you complaining about? That's my best feature!"

	Clad in a skimpy baby doll outfit, lovely Ashley pirouetted in front of
the mirror.

	"What do you think, Shannon?"

	Shannon stifled an elaborately overdone yawn.

	"Oh, you'll do, I guess."

	Shannon ducked the pillow that Ashley threw back at her and grinned.

	"That's only if gorgeous, busty, blue-eyed blonds ever come back into
fashion. It's too bad for you, but lucky for me, that Irish redheads are all the
rage these days!"

	The redheaded fireball from Dublin pranced prettily in her green silk
camisole, exuding Celtic charm. She did her American Valley Girl imitation.

	"At least you can't see my dark red nipples through what I'm wearing!
Those pretty pink paps are so obvious and so yesterday! That baby doll outfit of
yours doesn't cover up anything! Gag me with a spoon!  Why, a blind man could
see that you were a natural blond! Get some subtlety, girl!"

	She pulled down her green silk panties, revealing a thick thatch of dark
red pubic hair. She pumped her hips lewdly.

	"Take your cue from me! I, ever so subtly, flash my gash and they know
that I'm as red as Margaret Thatcher's cunt hole!"

	Ashley laughed.

	"That's what I admire about you, Shannon: your subtle, understated
elegance!"

	Shannon rasped out her Marlon Brando Godfather imitation.

	"Ya gotta be crass to get some ass!"

	"Too late today! We'll cruise for some tomorrow. Hamburg, watch out! The
wild women of Woking have landed!"

	"We have to get a more upscale address! Woking is so out of it! By the
way, I saw those two lamebrain bimbos that run that herbal teashop. It looks
like they're here on vacation, staying in this hotel. I saw them coming and
ducked out of the way. Be on the lookout. You've been warned!"

	"Penny and Nicole? Maybe Hamburg is becoming a place for Hamburgers!"

	Shannon bulged her eyeballs and gawked about like a slack-jawed yokel,
in imitation of the aforementioned lame brained bimbos.

	"Gorsh, Nicole, is that what the people of Hamburg are called?"

	"The thieves are called Hamburglars! Ronald MacDonald feels right at
home here, Miss Penny-for-your-thoughts-and-they're-overpriced-at-that!"

       They had a good gigglesnort over that one. Shannon and Ashley loved
taking the Mickey out of Penny and Nicole. Their hilarious imitations of the two
herbal teashop owners were highly regarded in the pubs of Woking. There was
little love lost between the two pairs of women. So far, all the battles of wit
had gone very much in favour of the young, smart, upwardly mobile fashion
models. In a battle of wits, Penny and Nicole were un-armed and defenceless.
Their success was due to good looks combined with Nicole's sperm-sucking skills.
      
        Ashley had news on the subject of hanging out in the boondocks with the
local yokels.
      
       "Don't worry about Woking! I've got a line on a London apartment. We'll
move there soon and hit the big time! Very posh!"

	Shannon did her Mr. Burns imitation. She steepled her fingers and arched
her eyebrows smugly.

	"Excellent, Smithers!" 

	The two young lovelies giggled hysterically.	

	Ashley had been surprised when Smedley Hargreaves' secretary, Michelle,
had phoned to tell her that she had won some sort of customer draw at the local
bank, the prize being an all-expense-paid week for two in Hamburg. She had to
answer a skill-testing question. She had been a history major at university (a
fact that was on her customer record). Surprise! Surprise! It turned out that
the former history major knew that the Battle of Hastings was in 1066.

       As Smedley had hoped, Ashley invited her bosom buddy Shannon along. This
blatant attempt at bribery hadn't stopped Ashley from ratting out Smedley's
nasty attempt at sexual blackmail to Lillith. They were blissfully ignorant of
the fact that Lillith and Becky were now screaming their way through painshows
at a local underground S&M club, demonstrating how wide a cunt or asshole could
be stretched, how many heated pins could be jabbed into a clit and how long a
bitch could hang from her skewered breasts. They had their nipples, cuntlips and
rectums swabbed with flaming, alcohol-dipped q-tips prior to intimate
penetrations, enema parties and painfully obscene group gropes. For relaxation,
they demonstrated the use of powerful nipple, breast, clit and genital clamps as
well as a wide range of bondage gear, cinched to eyeball-popping tightness. An
intense, gut-gripping lifestyle is guaranteed for beautiful babes in the brutal
hands of vicious pain freaks.  

	Ashley and Shannon hadn't liked the hotel's slimy desk clerk, but they
had confidently played him like they played all men, teasing him on and letting
him think that he had a chance at their voluptuous lesbian bods. He had
responded to the two beauties like all those with two testicles and a dick.
Playing the besotted fool to perfection, the smarmy little twerp had obligingly
given them a quiet, soundproof room at the back of the hotel. It had a great
view of Hamburg harbour where the container ship Pussy Maru was soon to deliver
its delectable cargo to a gathering of the most savage sexual predators on the
planet.

	Shannon moved up close and cupped one of Ashley's superdroopers with a
moist palm.

	"I suppose you think that this is the tallest free-standing structure in
the world!"

	"Don't be silly, Shannon! That's the CN Tower in Toronto! What you're
looking at are numbers two and three!"

	Shannon bounced Ashley's tits speculatively.

	"Question is: which is number two and which is, sadly, number three?"

	Ashley's hand dipped inside Shannon's green silk panties.

	"Ooooo! I think I know who has the tallest free-standing clit in
Europe!"

	Shannon dipped her hand inside Ashley's baby doll. Her green eyes
widened in mock surprise.

	"It's you, Ashley! You shameless slut! You're throbbing like a
motorcycle!"

	"You're as wet as the Liffey at high tide, you Irish lesbyterian!"

	Shannon did John Wayne.

	"Them's fighting' words, pilgrim! Ah reckon it's gonna be the
Cath-o-licks versus the lesbyterians!"

       The tips of their tongues brushed lightly. They sank onto the bed, mouths
locked, muscular tongues questing eagerly. Lesbian fingers fondled, caressed and
groped knowingly.
      
       Ashley pulled up Shannon's green camisole and kissed the pale pink
nipples of Shannon's pale white breasts. She licked and sucked them erect, then
moved her tongue and lips down Shannon's well-muscled, flat belly, kissing and
nipping gently at the smooth pliant flesh. Shannon felt the hot, burning lips on
her stomach and arched up to meet Ashley's warm mouth and tongue.
      
       Shutting her eyes and drifting with the sensations, Shannon moaned in
half-conscious pleasure. Peeling down Shannon's green silk panties, Ashley
smothered herself in Shannon's beauty and warmth. She sucked and kissed
Shannon's soft flesh and lowered her mouth to the slowly squirming mound covered
by red, richly curled pubic hair. She pressed her teeth into the soft thick
thatch.
      
       Savouring each moment, taking her time, she licked and enjoyed the heat
of Shannon's moist cunt on her face. Gently, she moved Shannon's legs apart and
kissed the pink lips of her soft vagina. She eased her tongue into the narrow
opening and felt Shannon's tremulous response.
      
       Shannon moaned ecstatically as Ashley spread her thighs wide. Ashley
placed her thumbs on the quivering lips of Shannon's tight little cunt and
spread them open. She slid her long tongue inside ever so gently and then forced
it in further until all of its tantalizing wetness was tight inside the walls of
Shannon's hot vagina, tasting her juices. Ashley breathed heavily as she
laboured between her lover's legs.
      
       Shannon groaned deeply in pornerastic bliss as Ashley moved her tongue in
and out, deftly moving Shannon's small, erect clit back and forth with each
movement of her tongue. Shannon pumped her hips gently to meet Ashley's lingual
probing. She groaned as Ashley withdrew her tongue and blew softly on her
swollen cuntlips. Ashley snaked her tongue back into Shannon's vaginal passage
and then licked the small bridge of flesh between cunt and rectum. Shannon's
puckered anus opened to Ashley's probing tongue like a flower to a hummingbird.
      
       Every time Ashley's tongue or teeth moved her clit, Shannon's hips bucked
up to welcome the raging fire it caused within the very core of her being. She
felt her need growing rapidly. It crested in a fiery orgasmic wave, breaking and
spilling over her. She came in pleasurable waves of sublime relief, fluids
oozing out from the depths of her young, quivering belly and warming her
insides.
      
       Her crotch pressed hard, shuddering against Ashley's gasping, dripping
face. She emitted a brief cry of cataclysmic ecstasy and fell back.
      
       Shannon rolled over on her side selfishly and instantly fell asleep,
snoring loudly. Ashley giggled, spooned up against her back and joined her in
the arms of Morpheus.
      
      
       Chapter 2 - Hitch Bitch

	Ingrid put her backpack on the front desk of the hotel. The clerk eyed
the blond Swedish backpacker appreciatively. Her halter-top, cut-off jeans and
hiking boots did nothing to diminish the blond beauty's youthful charms.

	"May I help you, fraulein?"

	Hitch-hiking through Europe, Ingrid had fought with her friends and
stomped off in a huff.

	"Ja! I tire of youth hostels! I wish a room to myself!"

	The clerk made some light conversation as he pretended to query the
computer.

	"What brings you to Hamburg, fraulein?"

	"We are backpacking through Europe. My friends want me to pay for
everything! I tell them no! Go away. I am good-looking! I have money! I will do
much better without you leeches. So now I am here, on my own, to live well."

	She looked at him flirtatiously. She was a tease who loved playing men
for fools. She stretched languidly to make it crystal clear to the clerk that
she wasn't wearing a bra. He eyed her halter-top appreciatively. 

	"You can get me a good room?"

	Reluctantly drawing his eyes upward to her face, the front desk clerk
smiled engagingly.

	"Absolutely! I have a special luxury room just for you! It's at the
back, has no nosy, noisy neighbours and commands a beautiful view of the
harbour!"

	Ingrid batted her eyelashes and looked at the clerk soulfully with her
cornflower blue eyes.
	
	"It will not be too expensive?"

	The clerk, an old roue, did his best to blush and look suitably
flustered.

	"For you, a special discount for a very lovely lady!"

	Ingrid looked smug, a haughty beauty secure in her power to melt men's
minds while stiffening other parts. Ingrid jiggled all her delectable assets
smoothly, as the muscular porter led her to the back of the hotel. As they
watched the rear view appreciatively, the head porter nudged the check-in clerk.

	"Ein Goldfisch! (A goldfish, slang for a young rich bitch)"

	"Nicht ein backfisch! (Not one you throw back i.e. up to snuff, so to
speak)"

	The muscular porter led Ingrid to the back of the motel.

	"Wow! This is way back! Very secluded!"

	The muscular porter nodded. He opened the door to her room and stood
aside politely to let the young beauty enter the dark room first.

       "The light switch is to your left, fraulein."
      
       As lovely Ingrid stepped through the doorway, groping futilely on her
left for the switch, he shoved her hard from behind.

	Ingrid flew into the room, stumbled over the rug and belly-flopped onto
the floor. The muscular porter reached to the right, snapped on the lights,
stepped back out of the room and shut the door firmly.

 	Winded by her belly flop, Ingrid looked up into the most ice-cold pair
of eyes she had ever seen. The leather bitch eyed her coolly, the syringe in her
hand. She pressed the plunger and sprayed the contents of the syringe onto the
carpet next to Ingrid. The carpet began to smoke. Ingrid hurriedly scurried away
from it. The leather bitch spoke one word as she put the empty syringe down on a
small table and picked up an identical full one.

	"Acid."

	Ingrid looked at her in fear.

	"What do you want?"

	"I want you to stay on the floor and take off your clothes."

	Ingrid started to unlace her hiking boots.

	"What happens after I take off my clothes?"

	The leather bitch's voice cracked like a whip.

	"Just do it!"

	Ingrid flinched. She pulled off her boots and socks, revealing
beautifully formed feet. Ingrid pulled up and jerked off her halter-top. Her big
breasts spilled out, jiggling enchantingly. She was one of those naughty girls
that don't believe in underwear. She pulled down her cut-off jeans and was
naked.

	The leather bitch eyed Ingrid coolly in a quick head to toe appraisal.
What she saw met with her approval: tight buns, big tits with a nice natural
jiggle to them, large red nipples, long athletic legs, fingernails and toenails
nicely buffed and polished.

	Her eyes lingered insolently on Ingrid's crotch. Girls who shaved their
pussies smooth like that were always fucksluts, so maybe lovely blond Ingrid
wasn't all tease as the desk clerk had thought. No sense shaving it if you
weren't going to show it to anyone. She wasn't bothering to cover up either, the
shameless hussy.

	The leather bitch tossed her a ball gag.

	"Put the ball in your mouth and buckle the leather strap attached to it
behind your head."

	Ingrid obligingly gagged herself.

	The leather bitch handed Ingrid a pair of black leather panties with two
huge dildoes attached to the inside. She helpfully tossed her a tube of
lubricant.

	"Just grease those big babies up and slip on this intimate little
number, sweetmeat."

	Ingrid eyed the long, thick, ribbed dildoes, turning them nervously in
her slim fingers. She glanced fearfully at the gleaming sharp needle on the
syringe of acid and slowly began to grease the wonderfully intrusive reamers.

       Her mouth was full of rubber ball. Questions, protests and negotiations
were no longer options for Ingrid. The leather bitch had some helpful advice.

	"Get up on your knees. Slather on lots and lots of lubricant. It's going
to be a tight squeeze!"

	Grimacing, Ingrid took her time greasing up the thick dildoes with her
small, dainty fingers. She slipped her legs into the panties, got up on her
knees and parted her thighs. She pulled the leather panties up until the heads
of the dildoes were resting against her most intimate orifices. Her hands dipped
between her legs, gripping the thick dildoes at their base. She grunted and her
small, perfect toes curled as she slowly eased them in, stretching her holes
very wide indeed.

	"Put your hands behind your back, palms together."

	A long leather sleeve was pulled over her hands and arms. It was cinched
tight.

       The muscular porter, an old hand at timing these things, arrived with a
dolly just as Ingrid was being coaxed into a large metal box. Ingrid knelt in
the box.
      
       "Bend over so your nipples touch your thighs."
      
       Ingrid hunched over. The lid was slammed shut and locked. The porter
checked that the small air holes were free and loaded the trunk onto the dolly.
      
       A short while later, Ingrid was being prepped for her debut as a songbird
at Die Singvogel. Inside a small amphitheatre lecture hall next to Die
Singvogel, the trunk containing the groaning beauty was dumped on the small
stage next to a T-shaped restraining bar set in the floor. The amphitheatre
seats were filled with eager perverts.
      
       Dr. Mandro was delighted as he opened the trunk. With the light
reflecting from the half moons of his thick-lensed glasses, he looked the very
essence of a Gestapo torturer. He helped the muscular handlers secure her wrists
to either end of the T-shaped bar. He pulled down her leather dildo panties,
easing the thick ribbed invaders from her warm holes. Ingrid's shapely legs were
spread and her dainty ankles were fastened to heavy ringbolts set in the wooden
floor of the small stage.
      
       In the middle of the top bar holding her slim wrists were two padded
steel plates, a vice like arrangement. Grabbing a fistful of her golden hair, he
jerked her head backwards so that Ingrid was staring upwards. He clamped her
head between the padded plates. He pinched her nipple hard. In unwitting
compliance, she opened her mouth to protest. He forced the metal pear into her
mouth. He began twisting the key on the end, operating a mechanism like a
miniature car jack. The two halves of the pear separated, forcing her mouth
achingly wide.
      
       Dr. Mandro liked working up close and personal. He removed his white lab
coat. All the watchers chuckled appreciatively. Dressed like a classic flasher,
he was naked underneath except for his shoes, socks and some pantlegs tied off
just above the knee. He strutted comically for the audience packing the
amphitheatre, a small man with a large organ.
      
       "I'm like the battery - Ever Ready!"
      
       After a brief laugh, the small audience settled in to watch him prep a
songbird for some serious singing.
      
       He stood in front of the panting beauty on a small, motorized platform
that moved up and down in a well so that a rapist could get a perfect hip to
groin match with his victim. Ingrid's naked body arched forward, trembling
against his. She emitted a small squeal as his thick dick parted her cuntlips
and her hot hole was forced to swallow his manhood.
      
       He pulled down the slow speed dental drill from it's ceiling rack and
went to work on her back molars, pumping steadily with his manrod while she
squirmed and writhed hotly against him, her nipples fear-hardened acorns
scrubbing his chest. The smell of scorched bone filled the air as the drill
burrowed into her teeth. Ingrid squealed shrilly as Dr. Mandro, his gleaming
eyes rendered huge by the thick lenses, expertly located the exquisitely
sensitive nerves.
      
       Ingrid's nude, straining body convulsed frantically around his turgid rod
as white-hot shafts of whirring, grinding agony pierced her brain. Using the
dental drill, he mined the seams of pain in her teeth like a prospector,
exploring for nuggets of the purest anguish, her tremulous, quivering nakedness
pressed tightly against his. He inserted electrical wires into the holes in her
teeth and cemented them in place. The torture gouged channels of pure agony into
her very soul. A sensitive man with a perfect sense of the occasion, he came
inside her as he finished cementing the last wire in place.
      
       He pulled his male plug from her female socket and, in an act of
consideration towards any future rapists, wiped Ingrid's dripping thighs.
      
       "Does anybody care to keep our little songbird amused while I connect up
the wires and adjust the voltage, amperage and pulsing of the current?"
      
       He hadn't finished making his kind offer before eager rapists were
surging onto the stage. Ingrid groaned as the first penis plugged into her
fuckhole and began reaming her hard.
      
       As her hot, tight hole was opened time and again, Dr. Mandro
experimented, giving each rapist a squealing, squirming fucktoy rubbing her big
breasts with their fear-hardened nipples against his chest. He turned Ingrid
into a hot cunt that was wrapped unwillingly, and clamped tightly, around each
team creamer's plunging penis.
      
       At last, each rapist had pounded his oyster juice into her gut hole.    

	In the corner of the room was her 'birdcage', a gleaming chrome cage
three feet high. Ingrid was released from the T-bar and fitted with neck, wrist
and ankle cuffs. Her wrists were fastened helplessly to the back of her neck
collar and she was forced into the terrible constriction of the cage. Her thighs
were splayed wide. Her ankles were fastened to either side of the cage, the
ankle cuffs pulling up and forcing her to balance on the balls of her feet.

       The cage door clanged shut. Ingrid perched awkwardly on one of the thick
bars crossing the bottom of the cage, her spine painfully curved in her
three-foot-high domed prison.
      
       Wiping his glasses with a handkerchief, Dr. Mandro stared into the eyes
of the caged woman squatting helplessly before him, her private parts displayed
obscenely. His small, childlike eyes surveyed her lush trembling nudity. Her
flat belly fluttered as he stroked it. Her smooth shaven cuntlips, hot to the
touch and fully distended, were a delight to grope. The puckered ring of her
anus tightened as she tried futilely to reject him. He delighted in her look of
revulsion as he took intimate liberties with her.
      
       Squatting, breasts jutting just above her knees, Ingrid groaned in misery
as she felt Dr. Mandro's clammy hands on her body, expertly inserting the metal
probes into her vagina and anus, stretching and filling them with cold metal. He
rolled her nipples between his fingers. When he was satisfied with their stiff
erectness, he snapped the sharp-toothed clips onto her teats. Their cruel bite
made her grimace. She whimpered as he clipped rows of electrodes to her cuntlips
and sobbed as he clipped one onto her clit. His fingers worked deftly as he
wired up the most sensitive portions of her anatomy so that she would sing high
and clear for the crowd when she was mounted in her cage on display in the club.
      
       "Being a victim is sweaty work. We wouldn't want you dying of
dehydration."
      
       He began pushing the clear plastic feeding tube into her nostril.
      
       "Swallow. I wouldn't want to push it into your lungs by mistake."
      
       Eyes watering, Ingrid swallowed frantically as he pushed the tube into
her trachea and down her oesophagus. He hooked the tube up to the pump; to feed
her a steady supply of water mixed with a cocktail of chemicals designed to keep
her wide-awake, cramped up and screaming. He grinned at his audience.
      
       "When a paramedic evaluates a victim, one of the first things he checks
is their degree of consciousness. Normally a person is 'alert and oriented times
four'. They know what's just happened, what time it is, where they are and who
they are. I strip all that away. When she's singing in her birdcage at Die
Singvogel, Ingrid will be alert times zero. All she'll know is that she exists
in a world of intense agony and the deepest dread."
      
       Ingrid whimpered piteously as her cage was wheeled out. The audience of
hardcore perverts applauded and followed with interest.
      
          
		Chapter 3 - The Midnight Tour   

	Smedley Hargreaves, freshly arrived from England to attend the
Frauleinschlachtfest, liked going to Hamburg to take the Midnight Tour every now
and again. He found it invigorating and an excellent way to warm up for the
festivities.

	Katja led the select group of perverts through the hotel to the special
rooms at the back. Die Singvogel laid on the Midnight Tour.  The title of the
tour was a bit of a joke because it took place at 2:00 am, but it had all the
horror of midnight, all right.

	It was a modern hotel. Security cards controlled the locks. Katja
flicked the master security card through the slit. The door opened silently on
well-oiled hinges.

	Ashley's baby blues opened wide as the lights flicked on. She raised her
hands to shield her eyes from the harsh glare as the rapists surrounded her bed.
She clutched futilely at the bed sheet as it was ripped from her fingers.  She
opened her mouth to scream and a big rubber ball was forced in. Smedley held it
in place by wrapping clear tape around the ball and the back of her head. He
wound the wide, transparent tape around her head several times, making sure that
the ball was kept in and her lips sealed tight.

	Strong hands grasped her slim wrists and slender ankles. She was hoisted
into the air, away from sound sleeper Shannon and over to the adjacent double
bed.

	The rapists all loved the baby doll outfit. Poor, panting Ashley looked
ravishing. As intended, the baby doll outfit did absolutely nothing to hide her
charms. Eager hands ripped the flimsy material from her body.

	Now alone in the big double bed, Shannon snored serenely onwards, a
gentle lady-like snore. Her green silk panties were down around her knees and
her camisole up over her head, exposing her charms nicely, before she groggily
came to consciousness. Smedley repeated his Clockwork Orange trick with the red
rubber ball and the clear tape, sealing her luscious lips snugly around the
rubber ball.

	The two fashion models squirmed and writhed sinuously as they were
spread-eagled on the bed. The first two rapists clambered aboard. The tips of
their erect members glistened with a drop of pre-cum. Shannon and Ashley grunted
in unison as the rapists buried their cocks deep.      
      	
	The bunnyfucker doing Shannon finished first. She lay on the bed,
breathing hard. Smedley sat on the bed next to the panting beauty, waiting for
the right moment.

	Right after she exhaled, emptying her lungs, he pinched her nostrils
shut, cutting off her air. He gripped her by the throat, digging his fingers in
painfully on either side of her windpipe and pinned her head to the pillow. He
let her savour a few panic-stricken moments without oxygen. She struggled
futilely, the bunnyfucker's semen seeping from her slit. The grinning rapists,
holding her spread-eagled on the bed, enjoyed the show, as her hips arched up
from the bed and her big bare breasts jiggled and jounced. In the fullness of
time, Smedley released her nostrils. Nostrils flaring, she snorted oxygen into
her burning lungs with raw, juddering heaves of her torso. Smedley licked her
ear and spelled it out for her.

	"Shannon, darling. You've got to do a better job than just lying there
looking outraged. We're going to release your legs. I want you to wrap them
around your next customer, lock your ankles together behind his back and pump
your hips."

	He pinched her nostrils together again.

	"If you don't get into it, I'll have to repeat this lesson, only a lot
longer. Understand?"

	Shannon frantically hummed her agreement into the gag. He released her
nostrils and the next rapist clambered aboard. Shannon groaned and wrapped her
long, lovely legs around him as he plunged his over-size love muscle into her.
She locked her ankles behind him and began pumping. Smedley moved to the next
bed to give Ashley the same motivational pep talk as her first rapist, an older
man, de-cunted.

	For the next few moments, Ashley and Shannon each had her ankles locked
behind her own personal rapist, hips pumping obscenely as thick cocks slithered
in and out of their hot, swollen fuckholes. Ashley's forcefucker finished first.
Smedley sat on the bed next to her and pinned her head to the pillow. Foolishly,
Ashley took a deep breath and tried to hold it. Smedley waited patiently until
she was forced to exhale and then pinched her nostrils shut for the second
lesson. He let her struggle in eye-bulging desperation for a few moments and
then, in the fullness of time, released her nostrils.

	"Really, Ashley, you're not trying hard enough! You have to scrub those
big breasts against the customer's chest. You have to moan sweetly in his ear."

	He pinched her nostrils shut again.

	"Ashley, I'm really disappointed in you! You're an entertainer now!
You've got to give it your very best effort! Understand?"

	She hummed her agreement into the gag. He didn't release her nostrils
just yet.

	"You said that before! Are you sure this time?"

	She hummed again, much more urgently. He released her and the next
rapist plugged his pump into her well hole. Ashley moaned prettily, scrubbed her
big breasts eagerly and pumped hard. Shannon, next to her, had heard all this.
Frantically she started rubbing her dark red nipples against her rapist's hairy
chest and moaning prettily.

	Her rapist de-cunted, trailing a sticky string of cum between the tip of
his penis and her fuckhole. Smedley pinched Shannon's nostrils shut. Her bare
bum slithered in the wet spot and her tits jiggled as she struggled futilely
against suffocation. Smedley let her bounce and jiggle for the boys and then
released her nostrils.

	"Shannon! Now that you're wet, you've got to squeeze your thighs
together to tighten your cunt! We're going to release your arms. Don't try to
remove the gag. Use your hands, moving them constantly to amuse your customer."

	He pinched her nostrils shut. Shannon lay very still, having learned the
futility of struggle.

	"Understand, Shannon?"

	She hummed eagerly into the gag. The next rapist clambered aboard and
rammed seven inches of rock hard gristle into her. He was an old hard-humping
horndog. Shannon was released completely. She focussed totally on pleasing the
horndog who rode her long and hard, sweating her beautifully.

	Smedley moved over to Ashley, who looked up at him in deep dread. She
whimpered as he pinched her nostrils shut. As she squirmed and writhed, trying
to handle a world without air, bright yellow urine spurted from between her
parted thighs. Smedley released her nostrils. As she lay panting in a soggy
patch of piss, he coached his pet for her next trick.

	"It's not easy pleasing your customers, Ashley! Nobody likes a lazy
bitch! The next guy wants to do it up the ass, so you'll have to flip over. Just
move down a bit so your belly covers the piss patch. Think you can manage?"

	Ashley nodded, her torso heaving as she panted quickly. The grasping
hands released her and she obediently rolled over, groaning as oily fingers
slithered in and out of her rectum, lubricating her back passage. She breathed
out a small cry as the greased sausage of the backdoor boy pried open her anal
orifice. With a grunt, he forced himself all the way in.

	"Just the way I like it! Nice and tight! If she were any tighter I
couldn't get in."

	Her wrists were pulled out to the side. Smedley pinched her nostrils
shut as the backdoor boy grunted like a rutting pig, pumping in and out. Ashley
squealed desperately.

	"Now that he's in, you have to squeeze your buns as tight as you can."

	Purple faced, Ashley obliged. Her smooth young buttocks dimpled nicely
as she frantically clamped down.

	"Arch your back so everything lines up nicely."

	Ashley arched. Smedley released her nostrils and the backdoor boy
gripped her heaving tits, crushing them in his large strong hands. The anal
virgin sobbed with each agonising rectal thrust that burned into her painfully
stretched shit tube.

	The Midnight Tour was an extremely popular event, as were Ashley and
Shannon. In order to accommodate all cummers, strong hands lifted Shannon by the
wrists and ankles, hoisted her up and pinned her flat on her back on a small
coffee table. Smedley dropped hard onto her chest. Her air whooshed out, Her
eyes bugged out. Her face went bright red. She squirmed frantically, but she was
pinned underneath him. He un-taped her lips and extracted the saliva soaked
ball. Shannon stared at him in wild-eyed desperation as he explained what was
required of her.

	"To speed things up, you'll be opening your cunt to one hard humping
horndog while you open your mouth to another. With your hands, you'll be
whacking off two more. I'll be un-taping your lips. If you give any problems
with biting or not working hard enough to please, I'll wrap your face in plastic
cling-wrap."

	He held up a roll of cling-wrap, tore off a length and folded it double.
He stretched it taut across her face. Distorted by the smothering plastic, her
eyelids were stretched sideways so that she looked oriental, a robber in a
stocking mask. Her squashed nose had a white tip. Her flattened lips were pale.
The stretched oval of plastic over her open mouth crackled as she sucked and
puffed, fogging it. She pressed her tongue against it, trying to break through,
but the tough plastic held firm. She tried to suck it between her teeth, but it
was stretched too tightly. Underneath Smedley, her sweat slick body bucked,
twisted and writhed. He rode her like a cowboy riding a bull, holding the
plastic firmly over her nose and mouth. He grinned down at her.

	"Understand how it works?"   
	
	Poor oxygen-starved Shannon moaned frantic agreement into the plastic.
Experience is the best teacher. The smothering potential of plastic cling-wrap
was something that she now understood completely.

	He peeled the plastic from her face and stood up. Shannon's legs were
folded back against her chest and splayed so that her cunt was hanging off one
end of the small coffee table and her head was hanging over the other.

	Shannon lay panting on her back. A high-breasted beauty, her full
breasts jutted out magnificently from her body. The dark red of her nipples
contrasted beautifully with her pale satin skin. Her flat belly was smooth and
ended in a thick growth of richly curled, red pubic hair; it formed a carefully
trimmed, perfect V between her long white legs. 

	Two eager rapists knelt on either side of her. Mindful of Smedley's
instructions, Shannon wrapped her slim fingers around their tumescent members
and began pumping. The two rapists each wrapped two hands around the nearest tit
and began kneading her firm, taut breast-flesh enthusiastically. They kissed and
sucked her nipples gently to tease them erect and then began nipping with their
teeth.

	Pumping with both hands, Shannon's head bobbed up to look as the
muscular porter positioned himself on his knees at her splayed open crotch,
dangling tantalizingly over the end of the coffee table. Her heart plummeted as
she saw the huge sausage that hung, thick and heavy, between his legs. With her
very limited experience of men, she had never imagined that a man could have
something that big growing there.

       The muscular porter grasped his thick cockshaft, lifted it to a
horizontal position and began stroking it. It swelled even thicker, stiffening
quickly. She could see the helmet head of his knob clearly outlined under his
foreskin.
      
       The porter expertly fisted his quickly erect shaft. He drew the foreskin
back, exposing the fat purple glans. A clear dewdrop of pre-cum quivered at the
tip. He rested the glistening tip against her small pink slit and began to push.
He shoved open her vaginal lips and deftly guided his naked purple knob into
Shannon's hot, moist passage.
      
       An unseen hand yanked down on her hair. Her head tilted back, exposing
her pale white throat. Shannon opened her mouth to cry out and the hotel desk
clerk jammed in his pale white tube of tumescent male flesh. Deeply afraid of
having her head stuffed into a plastic bag, she began to taste the slimy twerp's
salty shaft. He plunged in deeply. Fearful that she would choke, Shannon took a
deep breath, inhaling the stale, sweaty smell of his pubic hairs.
      
       The four men worked away at the beautiful body of Shannon, fucking her
over thoroughly. The desk clerk jabbed furiously into her licking, sucking
mouth. The two in the middle kissed, sucked and nipped her breasts, squeezing
and massaging them while, under the table, she masturbated them, her fists
wrapped around their erect sausages, pumping up and down. Between her legs, the
over-endowed porter plunged in and out of her tight squirming cunt.
      
       Everything gradually speeded up, as lust drove them ever faster towards
climax. The porter's plunging became frenzied. His and Shannon's genitals joined
hotly, his thick piston stretching her tight fuck cylinder wide, as his rock
hard prick muscled into her soft pink cunt with lightning quick strokes, moving
in and out like a jackhammer on steroids. Between her lips, the hotel clerk was
ramming his member in deep, opening her throat. Poor gasping Shannon felt like
the two dicks were meeting in the middle.
      
       They exploded almost simultaneously. The desk clerk pressed his driving
loins up tight against Shannon's gasping face and ground his hips from side to
side. After a long drawn-out groan of animal satisfaction, he relaxed.
Conversely, Shannon tensed, gulping frantically to avoid choking on his copious
cum. The muscular porter grabbed her legs with both hands, pulling her towards
him. He threw his head back and rammed crazily into her cunt. With a wild
jerking spasm of his hips, he jammed in all the way, in a final cataclysmic
plunge. His thigh muscles corded and his buttocks clenched. His face contorted
in ecstasy as he bathed her womb in sperm.
      
       Panting hard, Shannon was now acting as her own fluffer, preparing the
next rapists for a quick, stiff assault on her orifices. The two men she had
been masturbating inexpertly, kneeling by her breasts were rock hard and almost
ready to explode. They quickly moved to her mouth and cunt, jabbing their
members in for a frenzied bunnyfuck. While they were pumping hard and quickly
unloading, her fingers were hardening two more dicks under the table, while her
breasts were being kneaded like bread dough and her nipples chewed like toffee
by two new customers.
      
       Ashley, flat-backing on another coffee table, was also the centre of a
rutting frenzy: sucking, swallowing, pumping with cum-sticky fingers, her legs
were propped high to that her asshole was available for a thorough reaming. Also
a beneficiary of the cling wrap experience, she was doing her very best to
satisfy her hot, horny captors.
      
       Smedley inhaled the cat-piss aroma of the gangbang, watching with
satisfaction. The two fashion models, barely visible as flashes of writhing
flesh under the sea of rapists, were proving to be very popular hostesses
indeed.
      
      
       Chapter 4 - Gorilla Pimp Porridge
      
       Out at sea, the Pussy Maru was nearing the fast container port of Hamburg
with its luscious cargo of groaning misery.
      
       The black pimp faced the cameras. He gave a gold-toothed grin that went
well with the numerous gold chains around his neck.
      
       It was important to keep the bitches from being bored with the long ocean
voyage and keep them earning money starring in extreme hard-core porn. The
container ship Pussy Maru was a full production facility. The containers were
designed like Chinese puzzle boxes. Superficially, they looked like ordinary
metal containers. Press the well-hidden buttons in the correct sequence and they
unfolded hydraulically to reveal, not only a cargo of sex slaves to be
distributed world wide, but also a full-feature pornographic production
facility. Wardrobe, props, cameras, editing facilities, Internet connections,
handcuffs, ropes, racks, whips, branding irons, needles, clamps and crushers,
surgical implements - the Pussy Maru had it all, a veritable pornucopia of
perverse delights. 
      
       	Krusher was one of those charming individuals whose perverse imagination
kept the bitches hot and sweaty in front of the cameras. His gold-toothed grin
grew wider as the cameras zoomed in close for a headshot. The deep bass voice
that made the bowels of fear-trained whores liquefy sounded like it came from
the pits of hell.
      
       "Welcome to my nightmare! People are always walking up to me and saying
'Krusher, your bitches are the best! What do you feed them ho's to keep 'em
looking so foxy, in addition to your own wonderfully nutritious sperm?' Well,
I'm going to show you the secret recipe that one of my fear trained ho's will be
choking down in tonight's vomit-fest. I call it 'Gorilla Pimp Porridge.'"
      
       He poured some Quaker's Oats into a bowl and mixed it with water.
      
       "Nothin' different so far!"
      
       He winked slyly.
      
       "Now I add the six secret ingredients the bitch knows squat about. Lovely
Vivian will be contributing five of the six secret ingredients. I'll be
contributing the last one myself, based on a fond memory from my childhood,
'cause I'm a real romantic kind of guy."
      
       Krusher winked engagingly at the camera. The stunning blond next to him
was dressed in black stockings, black high heels, black elbow length gloves and
a top hat. Her bare boobs and tight buns were a delight to behold. Vivian
plastered on her big, phoney, beauty queen smile for the cameras.
      
       "Vivian's going to do something that she's very familiar with - sharing
bodily fluids with total strangers!"
      
       He gave Vivian a large glass.
      
       "Let's see how much piss you can fill the glass with while everyone has a
good look at you doing it."
      
       Smiling brilliantly, Vivian gladly accepted the humiliation, hugely
relieved not to be screaming for the cameras. She nestled the glass between her
legs close to her crotch to drain her main vein without her normal messy
splatter. Since Krusher had denied her toilet privileges prior to her
appearance, she urinated strongly. The camera zoomed in for a close-up of the
golden shower from her golden snatch. She had been working very hard indeed
since her Yakuza master had given her to Krusher, thinking Vivian's influence on
him was perceived as being too great. Showing any vulnerability in front of his
voracious colleagues, human sharks that would eat a weaker predator in a
heartbeat, would be a deadly mistake.
      
       Ghetto raised in the good ole USA and, as a result, having a HUGE chip on
his shoulder about whitey, Krusher not only liked making his white bitches
scream, he insisted on it. Once in Krusher's brutal grasp, lovely Vivian had
received his standard white-bitch welcome: stripped, beaten and gang-raped, all
in front of the cameras. She had been working her amoral way up the ladder,
betraying the other bitches to get a better deal from Krusher. She told him
about their deepest fears, their plotting, their friendships and their
rivalries. Krusher found it congenial to have a foxy, stool-pigeon mole that
fucked like a mink. In return, he was happy to make the white bitch crawl
instead of making her scream.  
      
       When golden girl Vivian had squirted out her last golden drop, she gave
the full glass back to Krusher. He held the glass of warm, rank liquid under her
nose. With a visible effort, she kept the ingratiating grin plastered on her
pretty face.
      
       "Spit into the glass to contribute secret ingredient number two, Vivian.
Let's see a nice big goober, babe."
      
       Vivian cheeks pulled in as she sucked hard and then drooled out a long
glutinous slobber of saliva into the glass. Krusher poured the contents of the
glass into a blender.
      
       "Disgusting! While you're doing degrading things, pick your nose while
everybody watches, slut."
      
       A camera zoomed in close for a headshot. With the camera recording every
move and bright lights glaring in her beautifully made up face, Vivian stuck a
carefully lacquered fingernail up her nostril. She probed thoughtfully and
pulled it out. A thick green nose goblin glistened liquescently on her long
fingernail. Looking a bit shame-faced, she scraped it into the blender.
      
       "Have you no pride, woman?"
      
       "Uh, I guess not!"
      
       Krusher bounced one of her big boobs in his palm, giving it a few
friendly squeezes, like a customer testing the softness of a toilet roll. She
smiled radiantly as he reached between her parted thighs and groped her
intimately, tugging at her cuntlips and crudely slipping a finger up her
fuckhole. The cameras zoomed in for close-ups of his coal black fingers lewdly
fondling her pretty pink privates, parting and probing obscenely.    
      
       When lovely Vivian was panting prettily and the shit-eating grin on her
flushed face looked very forced indeed, Krusher held out a small bowl.
      
       "I want you to turn around like a good scum-sucking whore and squeeze one
out while our viewers watch."
      
       Vivian obligingly positioned her golden buns over the bowl and neatly
forced out a turd that exactly fit in the bowl. Krusher gave her a playful slap
on the rump. Vivian squealed, his red handprint clearly visible on her
lily-white ass, prancing and jiggling enchantingly.
      
       Krusher stared at her expectantly. Vivian was confused and a bit
terrified, not knowing what he wanted. She stared at him fearfully, a scared
rabbit trapped in the headlights. Her voice had a mild tremor in it.
      
       "What?"
      
       Krusher let her sweat it for a few beats.
      
       "Wipe your bum, bitch."
      
       Vivian flushed beet-red in embarrassment as a helpful hand from
off-camera handed her a roll of toilet paper. The surrounding cameramen all got
nice crotch shots of Vivian wiping the feculence from her ass, taken from a wide
variety of angles. Krusher shook his head.
      
       "At least she knows to wipe away from her snatch!"
      
       He dumped the turd into the blender. Scarlet faced, Vivian stuffed in the
soiled toilet paper. Krusher glared at shaking, quaking Vivian.
      
       "You have a present for me?"
      
       She gingerly held out a used tampon. 
      
       "Vivian saved this from the heaviest part of her last period."
      
       He stared at her unbelievingly.
      
       "Don't give it to me, you stupid shit-head whore!"
      
       Vivian looked at him in confusion, the proffered tampon trembling in her
slim fingers. Krusher explained it to her, speaking slowly and carefully so that
the dumb cunt could understand.
      
       "Put it in the blender, bitch."
      
       She tossed the bloody tampon in.
      
       "The last item is from my fond memories of the ghetto - live cockroaches!
It's important for a bitch to get her protein! Don't worry, insect lovers! These
poor, doomed, ghetto bred cockroaches won't feel a thing after the blender's
turned on - talk of forced integration!"
      
       He poured a small jar of scampering cockroaches in, snapped on the lid
and powered on the blender. He pureed the mixture into a fine brown mush, poured
it into the bowl with the porridge and microwaved the result. He stirred the
fetid brown concoction and handed the steaming bowl to Vivian, who was standing
once more at his side, shamelessly working her thighs, flexing her naked
buttocks and bouncing her bare boobs for the cameras, eager to cement her recent
promotion from screaming slut to humiliated hussy. He scrubbed the side of his
hand up and down in the crack of Vivian's ass as he smiled radiantly at the
camera, gold tooth gleaming.
      
       "I know our eager fans are wondering what sort of utterly depraved,
brain-dead fuckslut would choke down this vile mixture and then throw up and
suck it down again and again until it stays down."
      
       His golden smile broadened.
      
       "Have I got a pussy for you! Let's go meet the Barf Babe."
      
       Chapter 5 - Barf Babe
      
       The cameras followed Vivian's tight buns onto the next set as she
followed Krusher carrying the steaming bowl, catching every dimple and twitch of
her callipygian buttocks and every flash of her gash. She placed the reeking
gorilla pimp porridge on a trolley between a large basin of dark yellow urine
and a glass jar with a huge cockroach inside it.
      
       Standing between the trolley and a sawhorse, Darla tore her eyes away
from the cockroach and watched Krusher approach nervously, expensively clad in
the ball gown she had been wearing when kidnapped, exquisitely made up for the
cameras. She wrinkled her patrician nose as she caught a whiff of the reeking
pimp porridge. A statuesque, full breasted, black-haired beauty with high
cheekbones, her hair was cut in a short bob. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she
glanced apprehensively at the cameras. A proud woman, pampered from birth, very
aware of her image, she loathed the very idea of public humiliation.
      
       On the other hand, Krusher loved putting the haughty, snotty society babe
through her paces while the cameras captured everything. Darla was a Boston High
Society woman born and bred, the sort that marries U.S. Presidents and Greek
shipping tycoons, the sort of man who would marry her for show, her sexual
duties restricted to those strictly necessary for breeding purposes. Darla was
only for those occasions when respectability, decorum and family values were the
order of the day.
      
       Her husband didn't mind. He was boffing real racehorses all the time.
When she had complained about this as being undignified and unworthy of someone
in his position, he had laughed in her face. When she had threatened divorce and
to scoop part of his fortune in the process, he had unhesitatingly put out a
contract on her. The hired professionals had decided to maximize their profits
by faking her death and selling her to Krusher.
      
       If anyone asked about her resemblance to her well-publicized self, always
associated with some rich person's charity event, Krusher could explain that it
was a look-alike. He had complete credibility. After all, no decent, respectable
society matron would ever perform such totally disgusting, utterly depraved acts
with the cameras rolling, would they? 
      
       Becoming a nigger pimp's bitch had been a HUGE eye-opener for the
highbred beauty. She straightened stiffly as Krusher reached down and gave her
bum an intimate squeeze.
      
       After falling into his loving care, Krusher had, lingeringly, with
painstaking thoroughness, experimented to discover her deepest fears, a strong
believer in the performing value of a fear-trained whore. It turned out that
having her bare buttocks prised apart, her exposed anus opened and live
cockroaches inserted into her rectum had been the definitive mind-melting
experience. Darla was no problem after that. Although a rather wooden performer,
Krusher's lightest wish was now her command.
      
       Krusher cuddled up close behind her, reaching around to give her big
breasts a friendly fondle through the thin fabric of her strapless, floor-length
ball gown, enjoying the way she quivered tremulously at his touch. Darla could
feel the heat of his erect penis nestling in the crack of her ass through the
thin, clinging fabric of her ballroom dress. He crudely stuck his tongue in her
coral pink ear and whispered breathily for the cameras.
      
       "Are you ready for some hard-fucking action, my dirty little gutterslut
cunt?"
      
       Looking in deep embarrassment at the cameras, Darla blushed an even
deeper shade of red. Her voice was a whisper.
      
       "Yes, sir!"
      
       Krusher stepped back. Darla instantly straightened up and patted her hair
primly, completely resuming her normal demeanour of haughty rich bitch with a
pickle up her ass. Krusher winked at the camera.
      
       "Anyone looking at you would think that you were a pillar of
respectability."
      
       Darla politely agreed with him.
      
       "Yes, sir, they would."
      
       He unzipped the back of her dress. She was too stiff in public to do a
convincing strip tease, so he stripped her instead.
      
       "Let's show everyone the whore beneath."
      
       Her expensive gown folded to the floor. This left her exhibiting herself
for the cameras wearing only a black garter belt, black stockings with a seam
down the back and high heeled, black, strap-on fuck-me pumps.
      
       Although a very recent acquisition, Darla knew better than to cover up.
As taught, she put her hands behind her head, arched her back and spread her
legs. The sea of cameras surrounding her recorded her lush beauty, the cameramen
weaving smoothly to avoid collisions. Her high, half-melon breasts with their
small, dark-red nipples were examined in close-up. Her callipygous buttocks and
pouting cuntlips between her parted thighs were photographed in detail. Another
camera examined her long, sexy legs, scanning slowly up from the fuck me pumps,
along the seamed stockings, capturing her athletic calves and thighs, up to the
neatly black pubic hair nestling on either side of her pouty cuntlips.
      
       She blushed violently as Krusher groped her. She froze as he squeezed her
tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers. He pawed crudely between her
legs, tugging at her cuntlips, spreading them to expose the pink and teasing her
clit out of hiding. She gasped and went up on tiptoe as he pushed a finger
inside her vaginal passage. He pumped it in and out lewdly.
      
       He spread her beautifully rounded butt cheeks to expose her wrinkled
brown ring. She started as he spat on her sensitive anus for lubrication and
wormed a finger into her back passage.
      
       Vivian smirked as she watched Darla being exposed and groped for the
cameras, feeling very superior.
      
       "What you smiling at, bitch?"
      
       Vivian instantly wiped the smile from her face. It was replaced by the
haunted, badly frightened look of a whore that's ticked off her pimp. Krusher
gave her his million-watt glare.
      
       "Do you think this is funny, cunt?"
      
       Vivian wilted. Even her firm, full breasts sagged a bit.
      
       "Uh, no, sir."
      
       "Do you think that you don't have to work - just stand there with a big
goofy grin?"
      
       "No, sir. I'm very, very sorry, sir."
      
       "I think you need to take up the cockroach challenge."
      
       Vivian felt like her heart had been drop kicked. Her voice squeaked.
      
       "The cockroach challenge?"
      
       He picked up a glass jar with a huge Madagascar cockroach inside, the
largest cockroach on earth. Standing next to the sawhorse, Darla stared at it in
horror, memories of her recent rectal roach experience flooding back.
      
       "I was saving this for darling Darla if she fucked up."
      
       He could see Darla resolving to explore the deepest pits of depravity
before she became a roach motel again. Delighted, he put his arm around Vivian's
creamy shoulders, enjoying the feel of her trembling flesh. Now that the voyage
was almost over, Vivian had become extremely expendable.
      
       "I want you to open your mouth, Vivian."
      
       Her heart in her heels, Vivian parted her ruby lips. Krusher unscrewed
the top of the jar.
      
       "Reach in, pick up the cockroach, put it in your mouth and shut your
mouth. Don't swallow. The challenge is to let it scamper around inside until I
say that you can take it out and put it back in the jar."
      
       Vivian reached in and picked up the large squirming insect with visible
reluctance. With a quick, terrified glance at Krusher, she popped it in her
mouth and shut her lips. Pinch faced and pop-eyed, Vivian's eyes watered as she
worked hard to avoid gagging. Her nude torso heaved, covered in a light
glistening dew of sweat. Vivian was on the verge of hyperventilating as she felt
the large insect's legs scratch at her tongue and its antennae poke her cheeks.
Krusher turned back to Darla.
      
       "There! That should keep her busy."
      
       He raised his eyes piously heavenward.
      
       "The Lord hates a lazy whore."
      
       He patted the wooden sawhorse.
      
       "You're not happy unless you're doing something totally disgusting!
Right, you filthy animal?"
      
       Darla swallowed hard and nodded, wondering what was going to be demanded
of her and whether she could handle it.
      
       "Yes, sir."
      
       "Lay face down on the sawhorse with your tits hanging down either side. I
want your crotch at one end with your legs spread along the sawhorse legs."   
          
       She straddled one end of the sawhorse. He cuffed her ankles to the legs
of the sawhorse, her crotch resting at the apex of the A. She bent forward and
rested her chest on the top of the sawhorse, her breasts hanging on either side,
her head off the end. He cuffed her wrists to the bottom of the front legs.
      
       Vivian was making panic-stricken, whimpering noises. As the over-size
cockroach started exploring the entrance to her throat, she began to gag and
choke, her eyes watering.
      
       "OK, Vivian, open your mouth and put Mr. Cucaracha back in the jar."
      
       She parted her lips. The huge insect instantly escaped and began crawling
over her face. Vivian shrieked and batted it away. It landed on top of her right
tit. She screamed and began dancing around hysterically, completely freaked,
afraid to touch it again as the cockroach hung onto her trembling tit-meat with
its claws. Laughing, Krusher flicked the cockroach's rump with his fingers and
it fell into the jar. He screwed on the top, shaking his head.
      
       "You white bitches could never handle the ghetto."
      
       He placed the cockroach's jar on a trolley next to a washbasin filled
with reeking dark yellow piss. He rolled the trolley until the washbasin was
right under Darla's nose. Darla arched up, raising her head as high as she
could, wrinkling her patrician nose and looking ill. Vivian was ashen-faced and
shaking badly. Krusher felt a warm inner glow. It was moments like this that
made it all worthwhile.
      
       He stared at Darla. She stared back, a scared rabbit trapped in the
headlights.
      
       "You disgusting pig slut whore! I want you to lower your pretty face into
the piss while Vivian works it into your hair with her bare hands. The piss was
donated by babes on the rag so there's a bit of menstrual blood mixed in."
      
       There was no question of disobedience. Darla took a deep breath, screwed
her eyes tightly shut and pinched her lips together. With a visible shudder, she
slowly pressed her face into the piss and held it stiffly in place. Krusher
pressed down firmly on the back of her head. Her naked body quivered as the dark
yellow piss seeped into her ear holes. He beckoned to Vivian, who quickly
jiggled over to the basin and began to massage pee into Darla's hair. Krusher
watched with interest.
      
       "I guess those dark, worm-like strands are the menstrual blood."
      
       Grim-faced, Vivian resolutely continued to work the urine into Darla's
short black hair with her long manicured fingers.
      
       "You better let the gutter slut up for a quick breath."
      
       Darla raised her head and gasped, sucking in some of the urine as it
streamed from her face. She coughed and spat to clear her mouth.
      
       "OK, back into the piss, fuckface."
      
       A look of utter despair crossed Darla's face just before she pressed it
once more into the malodorous basin. Vivian worked it into every strand of her
hair.
      
       "OK. Raise that pissy cuntface up, you disgusting chunk of pig vomit."
      
       Darla raised her dripping face.
      
       "Ever had a sponge bath, scum slut?"
      
       Darla shook her head.
      
       "No."
      
       He slapped her rump.
      
       "It's your lucky day, you stinking whore."
      
       He tossed Vivian a sponge.
      
       "Cover her in piss, Vivian, starting at the top while I keep her busy
down below."
      
       He pulled his rigid blacksnake out of his pants and pushed it into
Darla's soft pink hairy hole. His hips pumped while Vivian soaked Darla's
fingers and arms in piss. The sawhorse creaked as he humped her, his long thick
dick slithering in and out of Darla's tight fuckhole. Her dangling breasts
juddered with each thrust, while Darla stared resolutely off into space. He came
while Vivian soaked the sponge in the fetid pool of piss and swabbed Darla's
breasts.
      
       Darla shuddered as he decunted and Vivian's prying fingers opened her
dripping fuckhole and squirted in some piss from the sponge.
      
       "That's enough. Lick Vivian's fingers clean, douche bag."
      
       Utter revulsion was etched on Darla's face as she bathed Vivian's fingers
with her warm wet tongue. She swallowed down burning, acrid stomach acids as
they powered up her throat in a gag reflex as Vivian lewdly pumped her fingers
in and out of Darla's mouth.     
              
       Krusher was pleased with this charming tableau but it was time to move
on. He clapped his hands.
      
       "Ok, ladies. Enough foreplay! It's time to get serious!"
      
       He stepped over to a heavy wooden chair covered with strong leather
straps. The legs of the chair disappeared into a heavy slab of concrete. It was
going nowhere; no matter how hard it's occupant struggled.
      
       "Vivian, since you like watching a sleazy slut crawl, you get a ringside
seat."
      
       A thick, knobbed dildo projected up from the seat of the chair. Vivian
stared at it. Krusher slapped her on the back. Her big breasts jiggled liquidly.
      
       "You might want to grease that up before you sit down on it and bury it
deep inside your hot little hole."
      
       He handed her a jar of Vaseline. Silently, she knelt and slathered it
thickly on the dildo. Her fingers dipped between her legs and worked Vaseline
into her fuckhole. Staring defiantly, she stared straight at Krusher while she
hoisted herself up on the arms of the chair like a gymnast on the parallel bars.
Positioning herself carefully, she lowered herself slowly onto the invasive
knobbed shaft. It scraped at her sensitive vaginal walls, but she sank
resolutely down onto it until her aching cuntlips kissed the seat of the chair. 
      
       Krusher gave her a pimp pep talk as he strapped her into the chair. He
strapped her elbows to the back of the chair, her wrists to the arms and her
ankles to the legs.
      
       "I like to challenge my whores, to keep them working hard. The other cunt
has been working hard and she'll be working much harder. You have to work hard
too."
      
       He slipped the hangman's noose around her neck. Her eyes followed the
rope upwards to the pulley in the ceiling and down to the sandbags resting on
the shelf. Krusher held up a large rubber ball with a 10-pound weight dangling
from it.
      
       "I put this in your mouth. The dangling weight wants to pull the ball out
of your mouth. You have to hold the ball in because the weight is also attached
to a cord fastened to the lynchpin that holds up that shelf holding the sandbags
attached to your noose."
      
       He liked making things clear to even the dumbest cunt. If he didn't,
things might end very quickly.
      
       "If you drop the ball, the weight falls, the lynchpin is pulled out, the
shelf collapses, the sandbags fall and you have one hundred pounds dragging up
on your throat for a long, slow strangle. Fastened to this chair that's embedded
in a cement slab, you're going nowhere. If you drop the ball, you'll be turning
purple for the cameras until I'm finished with the filthy animal here and,
believe me, I've got a lot in store for that reeking cunt."
      
       Krusher spat a few thick, viscous phlegm wads onto the ball to make it
nice and slippery.
      
       "Open."
      
       Miserably, Vivian had to open very wide to accommodate the large ball. He
pushed the saliva slick globe in. Once Vivian had got a good taste of his spit,
he let the weight drop, enjoying the way Vivian's jaw muscles jumped as she
frantically bit down to hold it in. The ten-pound weight dangled in the valley
between her breasts pulling the cord attached to the lynchpin taut. If she bent
forward she'd pull the lynchpin out.
      
       To make sure that lovely Vivian was fully savouring the experience, he
unrolled a cloth wrap-up toolkit and removed three small needle-nose vice-grip
pliers. He snapped two of them onto her nipples and played a quick game of
purple nurple, pulling upwards hard. Vivian screamed into the weighted ball gag
and rode up an inch on the thick dildo. He released them and she sank down
again. He had her screaming up and down on the raspy dildo, working hard to keep
the gag in her mouth. When he felt sure that her tits ached and her cunt was
burning between her legs, he snapped the third pair of needle-nose vice grips
onto her clit. He twisted and jerked hard; making her scream until the snot was
drooling from her nostrils and mixing with the saliva on the ball gag, making it
even more slippery. He could see her aching jaw muscles standing out on either
side of her face as golden girl Vivian grimly kept her grip on the ball gag. He
gave her tits an encouraging squeeze, leaving the three vice grips in place, and
turned to Darla.
      
       "Feeling neglected?"
      
       "No."
      
       As far as Darla was concerned, guys like him could ignore her forever.
      
       He moved the basin of piss aside, positioning the reeking feculent bowl
of steaming gorilla pimp porridge under her flaring nostrils. Half of taste is
smell, so he made sure that Darla got a good whiff of the vile stench. She
pulled her face away from the bowl as far as she could, arching upwards against
her bonds.
      
       He stirred the malodorous mixture with a big spoon.
      
       "Yum! Yum!"
      
       Darla looked nauseous, her pretty face a study in complete, near-vomitous
disgust. He held a spoonful of the revolting muck to her tightly closed lips.
      
       "Open your mouth or I'll open up your asshole and slip Mr. Cucaracha deep
inside."
      
       Darla stared at the huge roach. It stared back, cleaning its antennae and
mandibles with it hairy forelegs. She shuddered, closed her eyes and parted her
lips. He poured the liquefied excrescence onto her tongue, making sure that she
got a really good taste.
      
       Darla's eyes watered as she gagged and choked, yorking up her last meal
into the bowl of pimp porridge. Krusher stirred it in as he gave her a pimp pep
talk.
      
       "We're not done until the bowl is empty. If you can't keep it down, Mr.
Cucaracha gets to party in the roach rectum."
      
       Darla resolutely opened her mouth and he poured another spoonful down her
throat. She kept her lips compressed tightly together in a desperate bid to keep
it down. Her rebelling, sensitive stomach hurled the mess up her throat and
through her burning sinuses to spray painfully out her nostrils. Krusher was 
helpful.
      
       "Maybe if I pour it down behind your tongue, it won't taste as bad."
      
       He spooned it down the back of her throat. Grimacing in total revulsion,
Darla kept her lips resolutely shut. Her throat muscles corded as she swallowed
hard repeatedly to keep it down every time it burned up her throat like molten
lava erupting from a volcano.
      
       "Very good! Are you ready for the second spoonful?"
      
       Her contorted face a picture of utter misery, Darla nodded. Spoonful by
spoonful he shovelled it in. Eyes watering, nostrils dripping tendrils of warm
gooey snot, Darla choked it down. Her Adams apple bobbed up and down like a yoyo
as her throat worked convulsively.
      
       At last, ashen-faced and quaking, she was done, her queasy belly full.
Krusher patted her rump approvingly.
      
       "Good girl! A sick fuck like you should be able to handle this next
delightful exercise in obscenity with no trouble!"
      
       Darla's eyes were numb with despair as he began oiling up her breasts,
pulling and squeezing them like a dairy farmer milking a cow. A device with two
clear tubes was rolled out and placed underneath Darla, the mouth of each tube
being positioned so that it was just touching a nipple. This was one of Dr.
Mandro's charming devices. Krusher watched Darla's face carefully as he flicked
the switch.
      
       He was not disappointed.
      
       Darla's eyes widened unbelievingly. She shrieked as the powerful suction
slurped her breasts into the narrow tubes. She quivered in shock as the mouths
of the tubes rested against her torso, her poor crushed breasts having been
sucked completely into the tubes.  She screamed again as the suction reversed.
The tubes filled with oil and spat her breasts back out. They quivered, dangling
down, red and glistening. Krusher was enthusiastic.
      
       "That looked like fun! Let's do it again!"
      
       He flicked the switch. Darla screamed higher than before as the
incredibly powerful suction slurped her bruised breasts into the tight tubes.
The motor to the suction pump revved high like the clogged up vacuum that it
was. The suction reversed, oil flooded the tubes to provide desperately need
lubrication. Her breasts popped out of the tubes. As Darla gibbered in horror,
Krusher slapped her rump hard. Her buttocks quivered like jello.
      
       "A hard core whore like you knows that it's going to be a lot more
painful if we give it a few moments for the bruising to really set in and to let
those puppies swell up even larger. While we're waiting, let's get those hot
horny holes of yours working hard."
      
       He positioned a device that looked like a giant motorized chrome
corkscrew on a trolley at the entrance to her cunt. He locked the wheels in
place.
      
       "This is what every fuck freak needs - the Scream Reamer. It burrows into
a fuckhole like a rabid weasel. It's got a switch at the tip of the giant
corkscrew dildo. It opens a cunt wide and penetrates deep. When it hits the
cervix, having wormed into the slut's cockpit as far as it can go, it trips the
switch and reverses back out. It's got a sensor on the edge an inch from the
tip. When that pops free of the cunt, it reverses again and burrows back in. In
and out, in and out it goes. The speed is adjustable. We'll start off slow and
then see how far we can crank this baby up. It's self-lubricating, of course. No
matter how hard a slut comes, she could never generate enough juice to pave the
way for this baby."
      
       Darla opened her mouth to protest just as Krusher started the Scream
Reamer. Her protest turned into a horrified shriek as the thick corkscrew
burrowed in, stretching her impossibly wide. She let out a high squeal as it
punched hard into her cervix and reversed out. As advertised, within an inch of
exiting, it reversed again and powered back in, travelling the full length of
her love canal. It punched her cervix hard and reversed.
      
       As the powerful corkscrew wormed in and out, it felt like her cunt was
catching fire. Krusher watched Darla shriek and squeal through a few cycles.
      
       "No woman can keep silent during that kind of action! There is, of
course, a companion to the Scream Reamer. It's called the Anal Intruder."
      
       He wheeled out a slimmer, but longer, motorized chrome corkscrew. He
turned off the Scream Reamer as he carefully positioned the Anal Intruder so
that the tip of the corkscrew was pressing urgently against Darla's back door.
      
       "This has a similar mechanism to the Scream Reamer. It has the sensor at
the tip, so when it hits the first big bend in her intestine, it reverses. An
inch from the end is a sensor on the edge of the corkscrew. When that sucker
pops free the Anal Intruder worms back in, screwing itself in deep where the sun
don't shine."
      
       He turned it on. Darla's eyeballs bulged as it stretched her rectum wide
and wormed deep into her shithole. She gasped as it punched into her gut and
reversed out. He watched her gasp and sweat her way through a few cycles, then
turned it off.
      
       "The best part is when the two work in unison. There's no way a woman
could handle both burrowing in at once. Two reamers that huge would rip her guts
to shreds. We hook them up so that they take turns, opening first one hole wide
and deep, and then doing the other."
      
       He hooked them together and flipped them on. Darla shrieked high and
hard, the spittle flying from her foam-flecked lips, a long ululating wail
punctuated by gasps and squeals as the corkscrews relentlessly took turns
stretching her holes wide and slamming her deep inside before reversing out.
      
       Next to her, cameras captured Vivian's look of deep dismay as the slimy
ball gag popped from her aching jaws. The weight plunged into the valley between
her breasts, pulling out the slim, greased lynchpin. The shelving collapsed and
the heavy sandbags slid downwards. The noose jerked up on Vivian's throat,
cinching tight around it.
      
       Vivian's gasping face was pulled upwards. She rode two inches up on the
dildo until being strapped to the chair stopped her. Her eyes protruded as she
gagged and coughed. Her face slowly turned purple and her tongue stuck out
between her blue, gasping lips.
      
       Krusher cranked up the speed on the corkscrews. Darla's shrill wail rose
impossibly high. He playfully gave Darla, shrieking insanely, a few quick tit
slurps until she passed out. He grinned as he released Vivian from the noose.
      
       "The fun only stops when a dumb cunt passes out from too much excitement.
Right, fuckface?"
      
       Dazed and in shock, Vivian stared at him stupidly. He pimp slapped Vivian
vigorously backhand and forehand. Her golden hair flew as her head snapped back
and forth with the blows.
      
       "I SAID: RIGHT, FUCKFACE?"
      
       Vivian gathered together enough wits to nod hurriedly. She croaked out
her reply.
      
       "You're absolutely right, sir!"
      
      
       Chapter 6 - Bullwhip
      
       Krusher grinned for the camera. His gold tooth gleamed.
      
       "Welcome to the MeatMaster Web Event! Patrons of MeatMaster.com love to
see a bitch beaten and our bitches love to be beat! We feature nothing but the
finest painsluts. No matter how much they may beg, whimper and scream, remember
one thing: these babes love a good beating! Always bear in mind that they're
women: sneaky hypocrites by nature! No matter how much they may whine and
blubber, turning on the faucets, it's all just a trick. Deep down, these
masochistic painsluts have no respect for a Painmaster that relents. These
bitches want to be hurt and hurt bad!"
      
       Now that he had made all the web surfing cyber-weenies feel comfortable
about watching a begging, sobbing woman being viciously brutalized, Krusher  
moved cheerfully on to the main attraction.
      
       "Today, we're featuring the bullwhip. We'll be interviewing the painslut
who's going to be stripped naked, spread-eagled and whipped. We'll watch her get
prepped for the whipping and I have something really special planned for that, a
big surprise for the painslut in question. Finally, we'll listen to her scream
as the bullwhip slices into her naked, quivering flesh."
      
       He gestured at the nude black beauty standing next to him, shaved from
head to toe until she was as smooth as a cue ball, ball gagged with a pool ball
between her lips (a black eight ball), her wrists tied behind her.
      
       "Allow me to introduce Aleesha, a beautiful busty babe who has abandoned
the fashion runways to sweat for your pleasure. A babe who's really behind the
eight ball!"
      
       Keen as he was on making a white, golden girl scream, Krusher was always
happy to take some time out of his busy day to carve the snot out of a stuck-up
black bitch.
      
       "Aleesha's a recent addition to my stable of cuties. I find that it takes
a lot of the fuck-you out of a bitch when she watches one of these screamfests.
Aleesha's here to learn what happens to a mouthy cunt."
      
       Aleesha shifted uneasily in front of the cameras, thinking back to the
fuck-up that had brought her here. A trusted friend had phoned, breathless with
excitement, telling her that there was a trendy, big-paying fashion shoot aboard
the Pussy Maru, organised at the last minute. She had hurried down to the docks
without telling anyone, a HUGE mistake. The 'trusted friend' had turned out to
be a computer-synthesized voice. 
      
       After stepping aboard the Pussy Maru, she had been promptly added to
their collection of prime fuckmeat. With the freshly captured fashion model
pinned on the floor of her cell, Krusher had shorn Aleesha like a sheep,
removing the proud beauty's finely braided cornrows with an electric razor.
While she was still quaking in shock from this degradation, she had been
stripped naked and pinned spread-eagled on the floor. Krusher had gone to work
on her stubble with a razor, denuding her of all bodily hair, shaving off her
eyebrows and her bikini waxed strip of pubic hair. Her long eyelashes had been
plucked. She was lathered up and shaved until she was smooth all over. When she
had seen herself in a mirror, Aleesha had been horrified, scarcely recognizing
the bald alien being who stared back at her.
      
       It turned out that being bald as a coot was the good news. After that,
she had spent some quality time with Han and his team of oriental rapists being
none-too-gently 'encouraged' to perform every sex act imaginable and
unimaginable by a large group of force-fuckers with groping hands and invasive,
dripping dicks. She was enthusiastically reamed and creamed for hours and hours.
Every orifice was pumped to overflowing with spermatic letch-water. With the
strangling rope around her neck, she was forced to gobble dripping dick after
dripping dick, her belly filled almost to the bursting point with jism. Naked on
her hands and knees, every square inch of her ebony skin was slimed with
peckersnot, dripping long sticky seminal filaments onto the floor. It had been
deeply traumatic for a proud fashion princess.
      
       Seeing that Aleesha had zoned out on him, a common occurrence with fresh
rape meat, Krusher slapped her hard in the face, forehand and backhand.
Pimp-slapped back to the present, Aleesha glanced up at him, her bowels a hot
liquid pit of churning fear. He gestured at the clamps on the floor.
      
       "On your knees, bitch."
      
       Her slim calves and dainty ankles were clamped to the floor, spread
nicely to expose her smooth-shaven genitals.
      
       Krusher squatted down next to Aleesha. His fingers parted her cuntlips
and probed deeply. Her big brown eyes stared up at him, Bambi looking into the
hunter's gun barrel. He pointed at the camera focussed on her face and then
pointed at pretty Pam fidgeting nervously in her skintight red dress.
      
       "From now on, I want you to look at Pam and watch what happens to her. If
you even blink, you'll be screaming right next to her. The camera is watching
you and it never blinks. Make sure that you don't either."
      
       He grunted in satisfaction as Aleesha began staring wide-eyed at Pam.
      
       Pamela Pureheart was convinced that her life had turned into pure shit.
Until the whoremaster had kidnapped her in Hong Kong, the toughest thing she had
to endure were stupid jokes on her last name. She had been glad to move in
public school to get away from being called Pammie Surefart. After that, her
life had been pure cream. Daddy had hit it rich and Mommy had hit it richer when
she divorced him. When Pam's incredible blond beauty had blossomed in high
school, the teenage horndogs were too busy trying to get inside her panties to
make jokes. With her divorced Mommy and Daddy competing to buy her affection and
every male in sight worshipping her like she were a goddess of fertility, pretty
Pammie had it made.
      
       Her tits almost popped out of her dress when Pam took a deep breath to
steady herself as Krusher and the camera crew came to interview her. The tight
red dress, black spike heels and elaborate tear-proof make-up made the American
beauty with the shimmering blond hair into a pure cream dream. The glistening
sheen of oily fear-sweat made her look like a whore Mazola'd up for action.
Krusher gave her his gold-toothed grin and eyed the blond bombshell
appreciatively. He fingered his chains.
      
       "Between you and me, there's a lot of gold on this stage!"
      
       Pam pretended to be supremely unimpressed.
      
       "Did you think that up all by yourself or does a big star like you have
scriptwriters?"
      
       Krusher's golden grin broadened. A loudmouth cunt was begging for abuse.
He glanced at Aleesha, naked on her knees, staring at Pam with aching, drying
eyeballs, learning what happens to a smartass. 
      
       "It's going to be a pleasure listening to a mouthy bitch like you scream.
We have you pumped up on bennies. Do you know why that is?"
      
       Courtesy of the Benzedrine tablets she had been forced to gulp down
earlier, Pam's mouth was dry, her face was flushed and her heart was hammering
against her ribcage like a premature burial victim pounding on the coffin lid.
      
       "It's so I won't pass out."
      
       Krusher loved grinding a bitch hard.
      
       "Correct! I want you to savour every slice of the whip. No escaping into
oblivion before we're done. I hear that, last time you were strapped, you just
couldn't keep your big fat mouth shut. Tell us about it."
      
       Pam's face twitched at the memory. She thought about blowing Krusher off,
but the longer she kept this going, the longer it was until she felt the whip.
The brutal bullwhip scared her. The big black pimp smiled encouragingly, knowing
exactly the compromise she was making in her mind. He'd been bitch busting for a
long time. Pam gave him what he required.
      
       "Yeah, I was hung by my wrists, dangling from the ceiling stark naked.
This guy beat my bare ass with a leather strap. I got extra if I made any noise,
so for once I was trying hard to keep quiet. Guys were betting on whether I
would make any noise and which stroke would make me sing. The whoremaster had
his ear to my lips to detect the smallest whimper."
      
       Inquiring minds wanted to know.
      
       "What happened?"
      
       Pam's glistening face twitched again.
      
       "The bastard with the strap kept hitting me in exactly the same place,
slowly, carefully and really, really hard. He was building a deep, sensitive
bruise on my buttcheeks. He made me scream all right. I almost popped the
whoremaster's eardrum when I let go!"
      
       Krusher laughed.
      
       "I'll warn the sound man, but don't worry! We're very easy-going here.
You can scream and beg all you want!"
      
       "Gee, thanks!"
      
       "What were you doing before you became a beat-me bitch?"
      
       "I was a whore in a Chinese whorehouse, fucking guys eighteen hours a
day, seven days a week."
      
       Krusher whistled.
      
       "Sounds pretty hard core!"
      
       "Yeah, the only time I got a break was when I took time to ice down my
cunt after it got too swollen from all the fucking."
      
       "What sort of customers did you do?"
      
       "I got the ugly ones with money. If he was fat and sweaty with warts, he
was all mine."
      
       "Was there an up side to that?"
      
       "Yeah, guys that ugly probably don't get laid often enough to get a
disease!"
      
       Krusher kindly pointed out the flaw in her argument.
      
       "On the other hand, guys that ugly can't be picky. They probably only
fuck scumbag whores like yourself, with real festering cesspits between their
legs."
      
       Pam's pretty face twitched glumly.
      
       "Yeah, probably."
      
       Krusher's gold-toothed grin broadened.
      
       "Sounds like the voice of experience! Catch any good diseases, Pammie?"
      
       "A few!"
      
       "Well, at least with this bullwhip, you'll be practising safe sex! It's a
guaranteed virgin bullwhip, never ripped apart any disease-raddled whores
before!"
      
       Pam spoke bitterly.
      
       "Gee, that's wonderful! It makes such a difference to me! I meet so few
virgins!"
      
       Krusher slowly and insolently took in her golden girl looks with a
connoisseur's eye for white fuckmeat.
      
       "For a disease-raddled whore, you look great, Pammie!"
      
       "Gee, thanks! So, if I'm so great looking, why are you going to slice me
apart with a bullwhip?"
      
       "Money, honey!"
      
       Pam's bowels contracted at the raw hatred in his voice as he whispered
poisonously into her perfect ear, just barely loud enough for the mikes to
catch.
      
       "And I just love watching a smart-mouthed, golden-girl, rich bitch get
all fucked up."
      
       She looked into his stone cold eyes and saw death.
      
       "Take off your clothes and show us the fuckmeat that the fat, sweaty
warthogs were pumping their diseased dicks into."
      
       A whore's clothes are designed to come off easily and all that Pammie had
on was a skimpy red dress and a pair of strap-on fuck-me pumps. Despite this
handicap, pretty Pammie did a coy, lingering strip tease, trying to delay the
whipping as much as possible. She jiggled and wiggled delectably, feigning
surprise as her big bare boobs popped out, quivering eye-candy. Moving her hips
seductively, she slowly slithered out of her tight red dress like a snake
shedding its skin.
      
       Krusher's black hands groped her creamy white flesh, squeezing and
probing intimately while Pam feigned indifference to his wonderfully invasive
fingers. He broke her indifference with a few vicious clit pinches. Once he had
her squealing and moaning, red-faced and gasping prettily, he withdrew his
fingers, mission accomplished.
      
        He snapped the steel cuffs onto her slim ankles and dainty wrists. Two
thick steel cables led from her wrist cuffs to the ceiling on one side. Two
other thick steel cables led from her ankle cuffs to the floor on the other
side.
      
       Krusher pumped his fist in the air twice, giving the signal. Powerful
winches took up the slack in the steel cables and Pam was jerked off her feet,
spread-eagled on a slant in mid-air.
      
       Krusher winked at the camera.
      
       "And now for that little surprise I mentioned earlier."
      
       He turned to Pam and adopted an air of exaggerated innocence.
      
       "Did I mention that you have to be stretched very tightly indeed so that
your skin splits open wide with each slice of the whip?"
      
       Poor Pam, panting hard, dripping sweat, spread-eagled in mid-air with her
privates fully exposed, grimaced. Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
      
       "How tight?"
      
       Krusher's voice was warm as he was handed a remote control to the
winches.
      
       "I'm afraid your joints will be pulled out of their sockets. It may give
you just the teeniest, tiniest little twinge of pain."            
       	     
       He pressed the button. Pam gibbered in terror as the powerful winches
began pulling her slowly in four different directions at once. The steel cables
thrummed, as they pulled taut. The engines emitted a deeper whine as they began
to pull more slowly, engaging their pitiless power against her stretched,
straining flesh.
      
       Her tendons and ligaments tore agonizingly. Her knees and elbows shrieked
with pain. Pam shrieked right along. Her shoulders and hips were on fire as the
bones pulled out of their sockets. Her breasts were stretched flat on her chest.
Every rib on her quivering, sweat-slick torso was clearly visible as her tightly
stretched skin, taut as a drumhead, was sucked into the hollow between each rib.
Blood seeped onto the stainless steel cuffs eating into her wrists and ankles.
Only her body's tough tendons and ligaments were holding the suspended beauty
together. Her chest compressed. Unable to take a deep breath, Pam sucked in air
with short, frantic pants and whimpers.
      
       Thoughtfully, Krusher halted the winches. Carefully, he gave poor
palpitating Pam the bare minimum of slack necessary to reseat her bones in their
sockets. Then he reversed the winches and pulled them out again. He did this
over and over again.
      
       Pam's raw, hoarse screams echoed throughout the ship.
      
       Spraying a mixture of spittle and snot from her gaping, foam flecked
lips, Pam shreiked insanely as Krusher performed his next agonizing trick. He
gripped one of her knees, above and below the joint. He paused for a moment,
enjoying the feel of her hot, taut, trembling, sweat-slick flesh under his
palms, a brutal gorilla pimp bonding with his bitch.
      
       He twisted and jerked savagely. Her disjointed knee exploded in pain like
a pine knot in a hot fire.
      
       He worked each of her joints with his strong, brutal hands, producing an
agonizing explosion of pain in each. He slipped two fingers up her cunt and
inserted a thumb up her rectum (the 'six-pack' grip). He bounced her dislocated
hips brutally. Her groin muscles stood out like straining cables on her
quivering inner thighs. She groaned in anguish as he pinched them.
      
       Krusher smiled for the cameras, addressing the cyber-weenies who ate this
stuff up.
      
       "Of course, a hardcore whore like Pam isn't happy unless she's being
fucked. I have a special dildo that only a painslut could love."
      
       He picked up a long, thick, ribbed rod with a screw tip. He parted
Pammy's quivering cuntlips and pushed it as far as it would go, forcing it in
until the sharp point of the screw tip was resting against Pam's cervix.
      
       Using both hands, he began screwing it in. Pam's voice rose to an
impossibly shrill octave as she felt the vicious bite of the screw ripping into
her cervix. A trickle of blood dripped from her nostril as her blood pressure
went through the roof. A powerful scream engine, Pam's dark red face was
contorted, mouth gaping wide, twisted into a rictus of hideous agony as shriek
after shriek powered through.
      
       Krusher breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar torture chamber smells of
raw terror and gut wrenching anguish. The odour of blood and fear-sweat mixed
with that of urine and excrement as Pam voided her bowels and emptied her
bladder.  Blood, snot and spittle sprayed out with each ghastly scream.
      
       Krusher screwed in the thick, screw tip rod as tightly as possible. When
he was done, the rod projected lewdly from her cunt, bobbing obscenely between
her widespread legs with each gasp and shriek.  
      
       "While Pam has a good time stretching in, let me introduce Ivan, the whip
master."
      
       A massive brute, stripped to the waist, Ivan snapped the bullwhip with a
mighty crack, narrowly missing Pam's flinching face.
      
       "How fast does that bullwhip go?"
      
       Ivan spoke with a heavy Russian accent.
      
       "Da! Da! The crack of a whip is because the tip of the whip goes faster
than the speed of sound, Krusher. The sound is that of the tip breaking the
sound barrier. A bullwhip is actually a whip inside a whip, a beautifully savage
weapon."
      
       Krusher nodded.
      
       "Combine her tightly stretched flesh with that incredible speed and it
should slice Pam open beautifully."
      
       Ivan, a brutal interrogator who had plied his trade extensively in the
Lubianka prison in the former U.S.S.R., was happy with his new job in the West.
It was so liberating to not have to worry about extracting information. It
allowed him to focus on his true love, brutalizing women. It gave an artist so
much more scope. He nodded his close-cropped head.
      
       "That's right, Krusher. This beautiful new whip should open her up right
to the bone!"
      
       "While your warming up your arm and Pam is stretching in, I'll get up
close and personal with the lovely Aleesha."
      
       Drops of sweat trickled down her gleaming pate and on down her forehead.
They weren't stopped by her ex-eyebrows or ex-eyelashes, so they dripped into
her wide-open, big brown eyes, stinging strongly. Aleesha fought hard not to
blink her aching eyeballs.
      
       She trembled in fear as she felt Krusher kneel behind her and unzip. Her
buttocks were prised apart and Krusher's monster member began pressing
insistently against her tightly puckered anus. One of the memories that ate like
acid into her mind was the shrill, piercing scream of a delicate redhead as her
asshole tore while trying to accommodate Krusher's monster member. As intended,
his accompanying words of wisdom were also burned into her brain - 'you
shouldn't have resisted, sweet meat. You should have relaxed so that your
asshole can open nice and wide.'
      
       Aleesha worked hard to relax her aching rectum and accept his over-size
shit-weasel burrowing rabidly into her heinie hole. At the same time, she
struggled desperately not to blink. As Ivan began opening up Pam's back with the
bullwhip, Aleesha's drying, bloodshot eyeballs conveyed images to her brain,
images of Pam's taut torso, slick with blood and sweat, splitting open with a
sound like tearing fabric with each brutal stroke of the whip, images to be
seared indelibly into her melting mind.
      
       Ivan was right.
      
       Parts of Pam's ribcage and backbone were exposed with each savage slice
of the whip. Ivan took his time, re-positioning for each stroke, back and forth,
striking first from one side and then the other, carving diamond shaped chunks
of flesh from Pam's back. He sliced open her quivering thighs and the backs of
her knees.
      
       The whip licked twice between her legs, slicing either side of the
quivering dildo protruding from her cunt, cutting deep into her taut groin
muscles. They snapped agonizingly like cut cables.
      
       Moving to her front, he cracked the whip, brutally snapping her nipples,
which vanished in an explosion of blood. In a virtuoso display, he opened up two
parallel long slices along one side, opening Pam up from her armpits, along her
ribcage, the sensitive sides of her waist and down to her hips. She shrieked as
he snapped the tip of the whip at her armpit, ensnaring one end of the strip of
flesh between the two parallel cuts. Pam's screams sounded like nothing human as
he tugged gently. Slowly, agonizingly, he peeled the thin strip of skin from
between the cuts.
      
       There is only so much that drugs can do. Pam passed out beyond any
short-term revival as he began repeating the process, peeling off a strip of
flesh down her other side.
      
       A few days later, Krusher was standing next to Pam's bed. Aleesha, on her
knees between his legs, was giving Krusher a gum job. Since the removal of her
teeth, this was a new field for her. Her gums were still a bit sore, but Krusher
believed in setting a bitch to work as soon as possible. He grinned as Aleesha
laboured, sucking, licking and, very gingerly, gumming, his erect blacksnake.
Pam was in total despair.
      
       "I'm ruined! I have more stitches than Frankenstein's monster! Why don't
you just kill me?"
      
       Krusher was his usual considerate self.
      
       "I'm surprised that you survived myself. I thought that we'd have to toss
your body overboard, give you the old heave 'ho, so to speak."
      
       He chuckled warmly.
      
       "You still have your pretty face and your bones are intact - perfect for
entertaining at this very special screamfest in Hamburg you'll be going to."
      
       Not for the first time, her pretty face crumpled and Pam began to cry.  
      
   
		Chapter 7 - Die Singvogel	

       Walking along the street towards the entrance to Die Singvogel, Katja
instructed them.

	"The club's in the basement. The only reason that you get into this
underground S&M club is that they know me and you are here as my guests! I pay
for everything! You pay me back afterwards! I guarantee that it will not cost
you more than thirty pounds for the evening! I will do all the talking and
translating. They don't speak much English and you wouldn't want a
misunderstanding with a Dominatrix!"

	Behind her back, Penny and Nicole nudged each other and rolled their
eyes. As they reached the door to the club, Katja turned to face them. They
quickly straightened their faces and nodded solemnly.

	"We wouldn't want that!!"

	When Katja turned to go through the door, Penny looked skyward and shook
her head unbelievingly.

	"Penny, what's a Dominatrix?"

	Penny was unsure, but she didn't want Nicole to know. She replied
confidently.

	"That's the person that runs the club. He's the guy in charge!"

	"If it's a guy, wouldn't it be a Dominator?"

	"It's different in German, silly!"

	Nicole giggled.

	"Of course! How stupid of me!"

	They went down the stairs. It was like going to a speak-easy in
prohibition days. A slot in the metal door slid open. Katja spoke a password in
German and the door was opened. They found themselves in a vestibule. Two
amazons stood in front of a studded wooden door. They were dressed in police
hats, leather harnesses, jackboots, leather panties and thick belts supporting a
coiled bullwhip on one side and a cattle prod on the other. Each wore a badge
that said in English "the future of law enforcement!" Katja spoke quietly in
German to them as they eyed Penny and Nicole with predator's eyes.

       Nicole, in her short clinging black dress and high heels, looked
eminently fuckable as usual. Penny, in her long red dress slit to the thigh, was
prime fuckmeat herself. 

	Nicole whispered to Penny.

	"For sure, it's a fake! Those badges are in English!"

	 "Well, it's better than I expected! Those 'law enforcement' babes seem
pretty tough, and good-looking too!"

	"Yes, no fat hausfraus yet! This may be one of the better tourist
shows!"

	Katja made a big show out of paying the entrance fee.

	"There's a raffle tonight. I'll keep your tickets as they're announcing
the winners in German."

	"What's the prize?"

	"I don't know. It's a surprise, but it's apparently very expensive!"

	Katja gestured at the 'law enforcement' babes as the heavy studded door 
opened.

	"Anybody dressed like that is Security. They keep the peace as they
can't have the real police here and the patrons sometimes get rowdy."

	Penny and Nicole were amazed as they stepped through the door.

	"This is a LOT better than Pirates Of The Caribbean at Disneyland last
year!"

	A heavy Techno music beat filled the air. The Amazonian security force
was strongly in evidence. They walked between two rows of heavy sacks hanging
from the ceiling. A sturdy rope tied tightly around the mouth of the sack
suspended each from the rafters. Each sack was moving continuously with muffled
squeals and shrieks emanating from within. Nicole cast an enquiring glance at
Katja.

	"Those are the vermin sacks. A feminist magazine tried to write an
expose of the club. The club shut down the magazine completely. Each member of
the staff, as well as their 'significant other', has been stalked and captured.
We're talking about a bunch of bull dykes and their fluffy, ultra-feminine
admirers. Each has been stripped naked, hogtied and tossed in a sack with an
interesting selection of snakes, rats, fleas, lice and biting, stinging insects
to keep them amused. It shuts them right up. They don't dare open their big fat
feminist mouths for fear that something nasty might crawl in. Be warned!"

	Penny nudged Nicole, whispering breathily in her ear.

	"A VERY nice touch, but an obvious fake."

	Nicole nodded judiciously.

	"On the other hand, it's a pretty good fake. You can see the outline of
the writhing body, even to where the two breasts are pressing against the fabric
of the sack. I like the way each one is a bit different in shape and size. They
didn't repeat the same thing exactly for each sack. That's probably exactly how
it would look if it were real!"

	Penny was pensive.

	"If they're hogtied, that means that their thighs are spread. Those
creepy crawlies could wriggle into certain warm moist passages and make
themselves right at home!"

	Giggling and shuddering like children at a horror movie, they moved
between the two rows of swaying, moaning vermin sacks with their squirming loads
of misery that formed a sort of entranceway to the club proper.

       Their eyes were gripped by the spectacle in front of them. 
	
       The Pussy Maru had disgorged her cargo and Nikki, the reporter wannabe
from South America, was being welcomed to Hamburg. Two busty security babes were
busy screwing the nipple clamps onto the topless, pinch-faced slave as she stood
on a small raised platform. Nikki, her slim wrists bound behind her back, didn't
seem to be looking forward to her ride around the room. This involved being
suspended by her nipples, which were being brutally clamped to a T-bar. The
T-bar was set in a figure eight track set in the ceiling that would carry her
around the room, her high heels inches from the floor, ending up back where she
began. If lovely Nikki let out the smallest peep during this tour of the tables,
she got to do it again.
      
       Nikki's voyage on the Pussy Maru had been a wonderfully educational
experience, teaching her the value of not fucking up on these challenges. The
security bitch flicked the switch and the T-bar was set in motion. It tugged
relentlessly at her nipples, stretching her breasts painfully until her toes
left the platform and Nikki began her agonisingly slow circuit of the room,
being groped, fondled, pinched and penetrated by cruel, questing fingers. Her
skimpy thong panties provided scant protection from the vicious, pinching,
intimately probing perverts lining her path. Brutally broken and painstakingly
trained, Nikki the painslut kept her lips grimly shut.

	One of the security babes, a blonde Amazon with truly impressive biceps,
hearing their excited comments, gave Nicole and Penny a predatory glance.

	"Care to try a circuit of the room on the Tit-Stretching T-bar, ladies?"

	"Uh, no thanks!"

	The security babe gave Nicole a wicked grin.

	"You have all night to decide. My name is Erna. If you change your
minds, just let me know!"

	Nicole swallowed.

	"Uh, for sure, Erna! We'll, uh, keep your kind invitation in mind!"

	They watched in awe the slow progress of the dangling painslut, lips
pressed firmly shut, thighs squeezed together tightly, buttocks clamped around
her thong. Tits stretched brutally, she was tugged by the T-bar at a languid
pace through a sea of sharp, viciously pinching, lacquered fingernails. The evil
female pain freaks knew exactly where to pinch. Penny whispered urgently to
Nicole.

	"How do they fake that?"

	Nicole, of course, had a theory.

	"I think that she's a robot. You know, animatronics! Like Abe Lincoln at
Disneyland!"

	"WOW! German technology is really impressive! She looks so real! Look at
her squirm and writhe! Look at how her cuntlips stretch and open up. That grimly
determined expression on her anxiously twitching face is absolutely perfect!"

	They watched her sweat-slick nakedness twist and jerk in silent agony.

	"Probably they can pack in some extra electronics to make her so
super-realistic by making her mute like that. Look, she's even sweating and her
bruises are swelling up! I wonder what material they make her breasts out of
that stretches like that?"

	"It's probably some sort of tough rubber."   

       A girl whose pierced nipples poked out of two holes cut in her leather
vest silently guided them to their table and left without saying a word. Katja
gestured at the sturdy wooden chairs.

	"Have a seat! I'll go to the bar and fetch some drinks. Look around.
Enjoy!"

	Penny and Nicole stared in amazement at everything around them, eyes
huge as silver dollars. Snug leather outfits and piercings, some of them looking
exquisitely painful, were everywhere. A topless cigarette girl went by with her
tray of goods. Instead of the end of the tray being on a strap that looped
around her neck, two straps fastened the far end of the tray to her pierced
nipples, which were stretched painfully by the weight of the tray.

	"Wow! It all looks so real!" 

	Katja came back with three steins of beer.

	"I've ordered us a spanking!"

	Penny looked at Nicole nervously, childhood memories stirring
uncomfortably.

	"Uh, we don't want to be spanked!"

	Katja threw back her head and laughed.

	"Not you! I've ordered two submissives to be spanked with a leather
strap here at the table for your pleasure!"

	Penny and Nicole were visibly relieved. Nicole nudged Penny and
whispered knowingly.

	"Here's your wet noodle dipped in rouge, I bet!"

	Penny nodded. Katja smiled radiantly.

	"Let's tour the exhibits before we see our own up close and personal
spanking."

	Penny whispered surreptitiously in Nicole's ear.

	"Oooooo! Exhibits!"

	Nicole was excited.

	"If they're anything like that squirming, sweating robot with the
twitching face on the Tit-Stretching T-bar, it should be pretty good!"


	Chapter 8 - Exhibitionists

	Fresh from the Pussy Maru, haughty snotty Lori and the snitch bitch from
Canada were being put on the Parrot's Perch as part of their welcome to Hamburg.
Dressed in elbow length black opera gloves, stockings, gleaming black high heels
and nothing else, all their goodies were nicely exposed as they jiggled
delectably across the room to be sweated.

       They were forced to sit on the floor with their knees pulled up, bare
thighs touching naked nipples. Their wrists were tied together in front of their
knees with a white plastic tie that could only be cut loose once tightened. A
long metal bar was passed under both their knees and over their arms. The metal
bar hoisted them into the air where they dangled prettily by their knees, side
by side. Bright red rubber balls were jammed between their parted lips. Each had
clear plastic tape wrapped around her pretty head a few times to hold the ball
gag in place.
      
       Lovely Lori was finding the transition from rich bitch to spermbag
beat-me babe difficult. She squealed hysterically into her gag as a jar of
spiders was slowly opened in front of her terrified eyes. She screamed in horror
as they threw the large hairy arachnids into her pretty face. She froze in fear,
her eyes bugging out, as the huge spiders crawled spookily over her face and
breasts and into her hair.
      
       The snitch bitch, a biker babe named Toni, was tougher as she stoically
received her face-full of spiders, watching grimly as they disappeared into the
valley between her naked breasts and crept eerily all over her bare skin. The
one slinking over her cuntlips with its long hairy legs made her toes curl as it
moved across sensitive nerve endings. It moved on to delicately poke at her
rectum while perched on her smoothly rounded buttock.
      
       The spiders were lovingly collected and put back in their jars.
      
       Up until now she had been tough, but the spiders had unhinged biker babe
Toni. She groaned and squirmed nicely as one end of a clear plastic tube was
jammed six inches into her cunt.
      
       Totally freaked, the once-proud Lori squealed like a boiled pig as hers
was inserted. The peanut butter that was smeared around the end didn't do much
to smooth the way, even though it was the creamy kind.
      
       The tube stretched from her cunt all the way across them room. Everyone
giggled as mice were fed in the far end of the tube. Their long whiskers
twitched as they sniffed the air. The mice smelled the peanut butter and, beady
little eyes gleaming, began to scurry eagerly along the tube.
      
       Eyes huge as golf balls, Lori stared at the mouse running down the pipe
between her legs, making a beeline for her love tunnel. She wiggled her hips
frantically, trying to shake the mouse pipe loose.
      
       Penny giggled and nudged Nicole.
      
       "Look at the expression on that blond girl's face. She looks completely
panic-stricken! I love the way they have her eyes bugging out like that. They
even have the veins on her flushed, sweating face standing out and pulsing
nicely. What a job of animation!"
      
       "I like the way the other one is trying to look cool, but loses it
completely when the mouse disappears inside her. You can hear them both panting
and squealing. There's some subtle artistry here. They probably use real mice
and spiders."
      
       Penny nodded sagely. The Amazonian security guard with the big biceps had
taken a shine to Nicole.
      
       "Care to join them up on the Parrot's perch? There's room for two more on
the bar. We have more plastic tubes, more peanut butter and lots more spiders
and mice! If you do it now, what comes next will be a big surprise to you!
There's still time!"
      
       Nicole laughed.
      
       "No thanks, Erna!"
      
       Penny, convinced it was all a put-on, put in her tuppence worth.
      
       "That tube and those mice aren't big enough for Nicole!"
      
       Nicole gave her a playful shove. The security babe intervened.
      
       "Ladies! Ladies! Calm down."
      
       Erna nudged Nicole playfully.
      
       "There are advantages to being a port city that never freezes over. We
have some truly impressive wharf rats! They never go hungry. And we have much
thicker tubes! The question is: could you handle it?"
      
       "Nicole can handle the fleet! You should have seen her at business
school!"
      
       The Amazonian security babe winked at Nicole.
      
       "Can you handle what comes next?"
      
       "There's more?"
      
       They watched wide-eyed as the snakes were fed into the long cunt tubes.
The forked tongues of the snakes flickered, tasting the air. Scenting the mice,
they began to slither down the narrow confines of the tube, slowly worming their
way in the tight confines of the cunt pipes towards their prey.
      
       Lori and Toni dangled naked, suspended by their knees from the bars. They
whimpered as the mice scratched and nibbled at the peanut butter inside their
cunts. Sweat ran in rivulets down their panting torsos. Their eyes bulged as
they saw the snakes coming down the pipes. Toni abandoned all pretence of being
cool, losing it completely.
      
       The mice scented the snakes and began to claw desperately inside their
stretched gut holes. Shrieking like banshees into their ball gags, Lori and Toni
squirmed and writhed frantically, flushing brick red all the way down to their
wide-stretched cunts. Blood seeped from Lori's left nostril as her blood
pressure skyrocketed.
      
       The snakes' heads disappeared inside the Canadian cunts. After allowing
the screeching, hysterically gibbering bitches a long desperate interval of
insane, pulse pounding terror, the cunt tubes were pulled out. The hind end of a
dead mouse hung from each snake's unhinged jaw as it poked out the end of the
pipe.
      
       Everyone, except the two quaking, pasty-faced Canadian bimbos, clapped as
the valuable snakes were carefully pulled out of the tubes and gingerly placed
in a glass case to digest their meals in peace.
      
       Toni and Lori were lowered to the floor and unbound. They huddled on the
floor, hands cupping their genitals, blood seeping from between their gloved
fingers. Sobbing and bawling hysterically, ball gags still in place, they were
hoisted onto gurneys and trundled off to tumultuous applause.
      
       Katja was enthusiastic.
      
       "Let's get next to one of the songbirds. They're scheduled to 'sing'
every half hour and it's almost time!"
      
       Scattered throughout the room, the songbirds' gleaming chrome cages each
hung suspended on a long chain from the high ceiling. The wires and feeding tube
were intertwined with each long chain. Penny and Nicole eyed Ingrid's obscenely
displayed form, squatting in her gently swaying cage. Blindfolded with big
earmuffs clamped on her head, poor Ingrid was shaking quite badly. Penny nudged
Nicole.
      
       "Wow! This is better than Madame Toussaud's Chamber Of Horrors! That
dummy looks real! Look at the way it sweats and pants."
      
       Nicole nodded in agreement as she eyed the way Ingrid was wired up for
electroshock.
      
       "I like the way the wires are clamped to her labia. That looks agonizing.
All the sensitive bits are covered. There are wires wrapped around her breasts,
clipped to her nipples and clit, long electrodes in her cunt and asshole,
electrodes pinned to her armpits, all over her stomach, the small of her back,
the backs of her knees and the soles of her feet. Her teeth, pierced ears and
tongue are all wired up. That pear-shaped jaw-stretching thing must really make
your jawbone ache. I'd freak just at being hooked up like that. They wouldn't
have to turn on the juice. I'd confess to anything!"
      
       Penny agreed.
      
       "Whoever designed the dummy did a lot of good work. Look at the way her
calf and back muscles are spasming, cramping up exactly like they would in real
life if you were forced to squat hunched over like that for long periods without
your heels able to touch the ground. Even her stretched jaw muscles are in
spasm. It would feel like devils were jabbing pitchforks into them."
      
       Nicole giggled.
      
       "I'll never complain about aerobics class again!"
      
       "They even have an electrode rammed up off her pee hole, blocking it off.
That feeding tube up her nose keeps her belly full of water and God knows what
else! Even though she's sweating an ocean and smells like rotting seaweed, her
bladder must be ready to explode!"
      
       Katja was breezily informative.
      
       "The blindfold and earmuffs lock her into a world of pain with no
distractions. If you listen carefully you can hear the earmuffs actually have
small, but powerful, speakers in them that scream a countdown to her next
electroshock session into her cringing ears. You can that see her shaking
increases as the time gets near."
      
       Penny and Nicole listened intently and heard the small shrieking voice
emitting from the earmuffs.
      
       "This is just so fiendishly ingenious!"
      
       The chrome cage rattled like thunder as Ingrid began shivering
uncontrollably. The entire bar began chanting along as the countdown headed into
its final stages.
      
       "ZEHN!"
       
       "NEUN!"
      
       "ACHT!"
      
       "SIEBEN!"
      
       "SECHS!"
      
       "FUNF!"
      
       "VIER!"
      
       "DREI!!"
      
       "ZWEI!!!"
      
       "EINS!!!!"
      
       There was an electronic hum and loud cheers as Ingrid's entire body
jerked violently and flushed brick red. Dr. Mandro's computer controlled shock
sequences turned Ingrid into a screaming animal. Her brains and organs liquefied
into quivering jelly. Ingrid's blood felt like it was boiling in her veins as an
electrical firestorm erupted inside her. It blossomed in her belly and burned
outwards along her ragged, shrieking nerves to the extremities of her body.
      
       Her rigid body jerked in spasm against the confining bars. Agony gripped
her vitals in a giant vice, crushing them cruelly. Her breath screamed in and
out in tight hisses, whimpers and sharp squeals. Electricity pulsed through her
cramping muscles. She quivered, taut as a bowstring, as her muscles corded and
knotted, feeling like they were trying to burst through her sweating, tightly
stretched skin. Lightning bolts of current burned through her guts. Bolts of
electrical fire scorched her breasts. Her genitals flamed as pain scourged them
savagely. Her bare buttocks clamped to agoninzing tightness. Awash in a sea of
anguish, racked by the demons of electricity, her naked body visibly wilted
under the hammer blows of pain.
      
       Finally, the current was switched off. Ingrid sagged the scant inches her
bonds would allow, whimpering like a badly wounded animal. The pounding of her
heart, as it worked hard to restore her in time for the next brutally savage
session, hammered loudly in her ears.
      
       She sobbed brokenly as the deafening voice in her earmuffs started
screeching out the long countdown to the next fry-fest.
      
       Penny and Nicole were impressed.
      
       "Wow! What a show!"
      
       Nicole shook her head.
      
       "I wonder what sort of sick, twisted mind thinks up this stuff?"
      
       Penny shuddered delicately.
      
       "Yeah! Whoever thought this up must be one creepy little pervert!"
      
       Nicole glanced around her significantly.
      
       "Shhh! I think that we're surrounded by them!"
      
       They giggled and ordered more beer. 
      
                

	Chapter 9 - Live Entertainment

	After a few steins of good German ale, Penny and Nicole were feeling
very mellow and relaxed indeed. Katja clapped her hands in delight.

       "It's time for the spanking!"

       Penny nudged Nicole as she saw the quartet of females heading towards
their table.
      
       "Look who it is!"
      
       "It's those snotty fashion models: Shannon and Ashley. Who would have
guessed? What bitches! Those two snub us every chance they get."
      
       "So I guess some of this is real."
      
       "Sort of a Disneyland for adults! Mixing in the animatronics with the
actors and actresses."
      
       Penny grinned.
      
       "It looks like they're the spankees."
      
       Nicole was indignant.
      
       "Is this the sort of 'modelling' they do? I bet that they can't make
enough doing ordinary modelling. They must do this to moonlight. What snotty
little losers! And they look down their noses at us!"
      
       Penny smirked and nudged her playfully.
      
       "Let's see if we can get them pounded. Even if it's make-believe with a
rouged up wet noodle, we can make them really work for their money."
      
       Nicole grinned back.
      
       "It could be real. I mean, even small children can handle being spanked.
It's no big deal!"
      
       Penny bounced with excitement.
      
       "Oh, I hope so! I'm going to love watching these two get their bare bums
paddled!"
      
       She looked expectantly at Katja.
      
       "Their bums will be bare, won't they?"
      
       Katja, bemused by their sudden enthusiasm, nodded.
      
       "Of course!"

       Two quite lovely, if hard faced, beauties muscled Shannon and Ashley over
to the table. Despite this, Shannon and Ashley walked smoothly towards them in
black spike heels, buttocks undulating in a saucy, eye-catching model's stride.
      
       Katja made the introductions.

	"The submissives are Shannon and Ashley who, it seems, you already know.
The dominatrixes are Tamara and Rebekka."

	Tamara and Rebekka wore tight black leather from their necks right down
to their spike heeled leather boots. Each held a heavy leather strap in her
hand. Shannon and Ashley were dressed as rather unhappy-looking schoolgirls,
their school uniforms deliberately too small. Their pleated skirts were ultra
short and their bra-less breasts strained the buttons of their blouses. White
knee high socks and black penny loafers completed their fetching ensemble.

	Nicole smirked.

	"Is this the sort of 'modelling' you do?"

	Ashley eyed her sourly.

	"It is these days! What are you two doing here?"

	"Enjoying the sights and you're definitely a sight!"

	Nicole looked expectantly at Tamara.

	"How many strokes are they going to get on their bare bums?"

	"Ten apiece."

	"That hardly seems to be enough! Couldn't they get more?"

	Tamara winked slyly.

	"I suppose we could go up to sixteen. Feel the leather in this strap.
Very high quality! It's two strips of leather sewn around a steel spring to give
it lots of snap. I guarantee a thick welt with each stroke."

	Everybody enjoyed Shannon and Ashley's obvious discomfiture on hearing
this charming interchange. Nicole flexed the stiff leather strap and licked her
lips eagerly. There was no way that this was faked. She handed the strap back to
Tamara, eyes gleaming. In her battles of wit with Shannon and Ashley, poor
Nicole had been humiliated thoroughly. This was payback, where her side
definitely had the whip hand.

	"Excellent! Let's see them bare their bums and touch their toes. It
reminds me of boarding school: the older girls greeting the new arrivals!"

	Penny tittered.

	"Giving them a warm welcome to make them feel right at home!" 

	Rebekka and Tamara grinned knowingly at each other. This was the reason
that spanking was referred to on the continent as 'the English vice', not that
it was unpopular elsewhere. Penny and Nicole chugged their beer and giggled
tipsily as Ashley and Shannon glumly pulled down their panties, bent over and
touched their toes.

	Two pairs of delectably naked buttocks quivered in fearful anticipation
while everyone had a good look. Their gang-banged cuntlips were red and swollen
from vigorous reaming by teams of hard humping rapists. Penny nudged Nicole
knowingly.

	"Look at that! The shameless hussies are getting off on all this!"

	Nicole nodded and smirked, feeling very superior.

	"Who would have guessed? They're bleedin' pervies!"

	Nicole and Penny sniggered contemptuously as Ashley and Shannon's faces
burned a bright red, knowing that explanations were futile and might earn them
extra.

	The room went silent. Rebekka and Tamara raised their straps. A sound
like two rifle shots echoed through the suddenly quiet room. Ashley and Shannon
yelped, straightening up so suddenly that the straining buttons on their blouses
went flying. Bare breasts burst from tight tops, wiggling and jiggling as their
owners grabbed their burning bums with both hands and began dancing around
frantically.

	Everyone sniggered and clapped their hands with delight. Two security
babes surrounded Shannon. They each gripped an arm, put it behind her back and
pulled upwards, forcing her to bend over once more. The back of her skirt was
flipped up and her bare bum was ready for action once more. Two others handled
Ashley.

	Penny and Nicole were enchanted as they inspected the angry red welt
across Shannon's lily-white bum. Shannon shuddered as Nicole ran her finger
along the welt.

	"You have a really good arm, Tamara! A lot better than the Head Prefect
back at the girls' school Penny and I went to."

	Tamara simpered modestly.

	"Rebekka and I both play lots of squash. It's all in the wrist action."

	They saw that Ashley's welt was definitely a superior specimen as well,
blazing a bright red stripe across her pale white buns. Tamara handed Nicole the
strap. Rebekka handed hers to Penny.

	"Care to try, girls? Aim for right next to the first one."

	Nicole giggled in delight, bonding beautifully with the whip bitch.

	"I'd love to! It's a dream come true, Tamara."

	Nicole and Penny gripped their straps with both hands and wound up like
cricketers defending the wicket against a strong pitch. They both swung hard.
Two more rifle cracks split the air. Shannon and Ashley surged forward onto the
very tips of their toes, bare breasts lifting in unison, faces red, mouths open
wide, squealing like scalded cats. The tough security babes forcefully
restrained them as two more stripes blossomed violently on their quivering,
dimpling butt cheeks.

	Tamara was approving as she and Rebekka took back the straps.

	"You girls show definite talent. We'll lay down a nice row of welts from
their bums down to the top of their thighs. For number sixteen, we'll give you
two the straps and you can lay on the last one as a welt on top of a welt. That
can be a sort of good-by kiss to your painslut friends!"

	Nicole looked at Shannon's bright red bum and her fully distended
vaginal lips.

	"Painsluts! It describes them perfectly!"

	Tamara grinned.

       "You two have worked hard and we have the evidence to prove it!"
      
       She ran her finger along Shannon's fresh welt. Shannon gasped and cursed,
struggling futilely in the strong, controlling grip of the butch bitches.
      
       "Have a beer while your friends enjoy the kiss of the strap! Then you can
give them a farewell kiss of the strap to send them screaming on their way!"
      
       Nicole and Penny drank deeply from their steins, watching a row of five
thick, bright-red welts march down Ashley and Shannon's pale white bums. They
enjoyed the way their buttocks spasmed and their thighs quivered as each cruel
kiss of the strap caused a fresh welt to blossom painfully. The red stripes
contrasted sharply with the creamy white skin of their smoothly rounded ass
globes. The two fashion models gasped, whimpered and begged futilely for mercy,
screeching wildly and struggling futilely with each stroke.
      
       The decibel level rose sharply as Tamara and Rebekka layered the second
set of five strokes precisely on top of the first. Each angry red welt was
turned into a dark bruise. Their tears dripped onto the floor. Their haunches
danced and their bare breasts shuddered and shook as they surged forward with
each searing stroke, firmly gripped by the security babes.
      
       The screams were turned into groans and sobs of the deepest agony as a
third layer of five welts was laid precisely on top of the first two. Each welt
assumed the dark purple of a bone deep bruise.
      
       For the final stroke, the straps came handed over to Penny and Nicole.
Although feeling a bit tipsy, they focused on the task at hand, pasting the
proffered heinies with another hard one. Since this was laid on top of three
layers of welt, Shannon and Ashley shrieked like fire sirens, bawling and
blubbering. They were frog marched from the room.
      
       Tamara was admiring.
      
       "You two are superb! Shannon and Ashley are definitely down on their
luck, doing desperate things for money and getting off on it as you so cleverly
noticed."
      
       Nicole simpered modestly. It wasn't often that anyone called her clever.
Tamara had a friendly little offer.
      
       "Do you want to see the two fashion model painsluts shaved bald? They're
giving a special performance at a very private costume ball being held here in
Hamburg. I can get you in."
      
       "We'd love to, but we don't have any costumes!"
      
       Behind Penny and Nicole's back, Katja winked at Tamara.
      
       "No problem! Rebekka and I will supply you with costumes."
      
      
       Chapter 10 - Prize-Winning Pussy
      
       Penny and Nicole excitedly accepted their invitations to the
Frauleinschlachtfest and went to the dressing rooms by the stage to try on and
select their costumes. On stage, the Shanghai Cowgirls, fresh off the Pussy
Maru, were being introduced.
      
       The bra-bursting Chinese beauties stood in a row facing the audience,
dressed in cowboy boots and Stetsons. Their sexy legs were clad in fringed
leather chaps, nicely rounded bare buttocks hanging out the back. Leather vests
just barely covered their top-heavy torsos.
      
       Beautifully trained, they stripped with alacrity, beach ball breasts
bursting from their vests. Their chaps hit the floor in unison. Naked in cowboy
hats and boots, they spread their legs. Pumping their pussies lewdly, they bent
over and grabbed their ankles.
      
       The Amazon security babes moved in. Plastic ties were pulled tight,
fastening each wrist to the corresponding ankle. The Cowgirls leaned back and
sat down on their bare buns, legs splayed obscenely. The plastic ties were
fastened to chains hanging from the ceiling and they were hoisted high in a row
along the wall facing outwards, legs and arms spread wide, a beautiful study in
primal crotch display.
      
       The security babes took out paintball guns, stood in a row like a firing
squad and took careful aim. The Shanghai Cowgirls, their eyes huge, began
frantically pumping their hips, trying to make their temptingly exposed fuck and
shit holes as difficult a target as possible. The security babes began target
practise, aiming for big brown nipples, open cunt holes and exposed wrinkled
rectums.     
      
       The TV sets at the corners of the room and behind the bar revealed the
interiors of the brightly lit dressing rooms. The patrons grinned as Penny and
Nicole, ignorant of the spy cameras, stripped down to their bras and panties,
trying on costumes. Their high cut panties and low cut bras were greatly
admired. Everyone agreed that the leggy, boob-a-licious English beauties were
prime cuts of meat. Penny settled on a Cleopatra costume and Nicole decided to
be Josephine. Penny and Nicole came back to their table, wondering briefly why
they were suddenly drawing appreciative glances from the peeping Toms and
Tomasinas in the crowd. They placed the boxes containing their costumes on the
table.
      
       The Shanghai Cowgirls screamed as the paintballs burrowed hotly into open
cuntholes. Penny and Nicole sat down just as sharp shooting Erna nailed her
wildly humping pigeon in the belly button, both nipples, stung her clit with a
fourth shot, burned one into her target's cunt and scorched one up her ass hole.
As the Cowgirl fainted, Erna pursed her lips and coolly blew over the barrel of
her gum, a modern day Annie Oakley. She bowed to a generous round of applause,
led by Nicole. 
      
       "I say! The fun never stops here!"
      
       Katja had some good news.
      
       "While you were out, they had the raffle. You each won a prize! Go up to
the stage and receive an expensive surprise!"
      
       Nicole squirmed a little.
      
       "After we receive our prizes, I've got to spend a penny in the loo."
      
       Penny nodded.
      
       "Me too! First thing after we scoop our loot, show us they way to the
W.C.! This German beer is fabulous, but my bladder is almost bursting. I've got
to drain the main vein!"
      
       Katja smiled.
      
       "No problem!"
      
       The Security babes escorted the prizewinners onto the stage, positioning
them in front of two large pillars. If our tipsy heroines had been somewhat more
observant, they would have noticed that the pillars had a row of holes drilled
in them. Behind Penny, at neck level, a loop of rope had been passed through one
of the holes with a loop hanging out either side. Nicole had the identical
arrangement behind her.
      
       Katja handed them each a heavy gift-wrapped prize requiring both hands to
grip it. Penny and Nicole eagerly tore open the wrapping. As they stared
stupidly at the large rock that had been so carefully gift-wrapped, the loop of
rope on their side of the pillar was dropped over their head.
      
       Behind the pillar, Erna inserted a steel baton in the loop of rope
hanging out the hole on the far side from Nicole. She braced a foot against the
pole and leaned backwards, pulling the rope tight around Nicole's neck through
the hole in the pillar. Nicole was jerked backwards, banging her head painfully
against the thick pole. Erna began to twist the steel baton in the loop,
converting it to a powerful tourniquet around Nicole's neck. As Nicole began to
choke, Erna's pal Katrina tightened the tourniquet around Penny's neck, jerking
Penny back against the pole and twisting her steel baton.
      
       Eyes bulging, Penny and Nicole dropped the decoy rocks. The stones hit
the wooden stage floor with a large thump. Their clawing fingers scrabbled
uselessly against the choke ropes wound tight, eating inexorably into their
throats. Penny and Nicole kicked futilely, the thick pillars shielding Erna and
Katrina as they twisted the choke ropes with the steel batons.
      
       The choke ropes were manipulated skilfully, slackening and tightening,
keeping their victims strangling and struggling hard for the crowd. Their
tongues protruded from darkened, congested faces. Penny and Nicole choked and
coughed, pinned by their necks to the thick pillars while the audience applauded
and hooted appreciatively. Their breasts quivered. Their buttocks dimpled and
clenched. Their thighs pumped sinuously as their legs jerked up and down,
unintentionally jiggling their tits and flashing their panties to the crowd.
      
       Almost in unison, their bursting bladders emptied, spraying urine messily
from between parted, quivering thighs. Good German beer piss spattered noisily
onto the wooden floor. Erna and Katrina kept them writhing and squirming,
prancing prettily in puddles of piss, until they unloaded thick warm turds into
their high cut panties. They slackened the choke ropes, untwisting them enough
to allow them to pant and gasp, their torsos heaving.
      
       Tamara and Rebekka escorted Shannon and Ashley onto the stage, carrying a
bucket of soapy water with a sponge floating in it in one hand and a feather. As
befitted their role as clean-up babes, Ashley and Shannon now wore form-fitting
French maid costumes. Shannon playfully brushed her feather duster over Nicole's
heaving tits.
      
       "Are you having fun yet, Nicole? Suddenly, I'm enjoying myself!"
      
       Nicole, gasping hoarsely, just stared at her, dumbfounded. Shannon
wrinkled her nose disdainfully.
      
       "Did baby go poopoo in her panties with everybody watching?"
      
       Behind the pillar, Erna grinned.
      
       "I think baby wants to be stripped and cleaned while everyone watches!"
      
       She gave the garrotte a warning twist. Nicole's eyes bulged briefly.
      
       "Isn't that what pretty Nicole wants?"
      
       Not too surprisingly, Nicole proved agreeable.
      
       "That's exactl what I want. I'll do anything you want as long as it
doesn't involve not breathing!"
      
       Katrina gave a warning twist of the garrotte and Ashley anxiously chimed
in.
      
       "Me too!"
      
       Erna nodded briskly at Ashley and Shannon.
      
       "Strip them and clean up that disgusting mess between their legs!"
      
       Shannon looked deep into Nicole's fear-stricken, bloodshot eyes, set in
her congested, crimson face, and seemed satisfied with what she saw.
      
       "My pleasure, Mistress!"
      
       Ashley smirked at Penny as she unzipped Penny's long red dress with the
sexy slit.
      
       "Same here, Mistress!"
      
       Nicole's clinging black dress fluttered to the floor where it joined
Penny's red dress in soaking up the pee. Their low cut bras were undone and,
after a brief, eyeball-popping warning not to cover up, they were flashing their
tits, bouncing their big bumpers lewdly for the crowd.
      
       Nicole's eyelashes fluttered nervously, deeply humiliated, as Shannon
dusted Nicole's breasts with a true gay girl's touch, skilfully tickling her
nipples erect with the feathers of her duster. Penny squirmed in embarrassment
as Ashley swabbed her big red nipples erect with a cold wet sponge.
      
       With a moue of distaste, Shannon peeled Nicole's feculent, piss-soaked
panties down her shapely legs. Picking up her sponge from the bucket, her deeply
bruised buns aching, Shannon's eyes narrowed to an evil squint.
      
       "It's time to wipe baby's bum. Spread 'em, Nicole."
      
       Nicole's eyeballs rolled upwards as Shannon applied the wet sponge to
Nicole's slit, daintily winkling out the tiny turdlets tucked in Nicole's labial
folds. She took her time, working patiently, loving the way Nicole's naked
thighs quivered in fear.
      
       That done, she went for the gusto.
      
       She worked the sponge into the crack of Nicole's ass, digging deep to
scoop out a trench full of reeking brown turd porridge. The audience tittered as
it plopped wetly into the bucket. Nicole's face flushed an even deeper shade of
crimson, as Shannon made sure that her rectum was squeaky clean.
      
       Next to her, Penny enjoyed a similarly intimate humiliation as Ashley
swabbed her cuntlips clean and then spread them wide with her fingers to probe
Penny's love canal intimately with the sponge, stuffing it all in and then,
pinching the exposed portion delicately with her fingernails, tugging it out.
She repeated the fecal sponge rape a few times to make sure that Penny (and the
sniggering audience) had savoured all aspects of this degrading, unsanitary,
public violation. Penny's trench of turd porridge was scooped from her crack and
plopped wetly into Ashley's bucket. She was quaking nicely as Ashley wormed a
corner of the sponge into Penny's tightly puckered anus and twisted repeatedly
for a wonderfully invasive rectal ream.
      
       Erna was concerned that Shannon and Ashley were having way too much fun
with their stressed-out, panting victims. She had a simple cure.
      
       "To make sure that you two have done a good job of cleaning Penny and
Nicole, I want you to give them a nice Lezzie Lick."
      
       Shannon and Ashley stared at her blankly. Erna clarified her demand.
      
       "I want you to get down on your knees and use your tongues. Lick them
along the crack of their ass and along their slits. Stick your tongues inside
their rectums and cunts. Run them inside the folds of their labia. Make sure
they taste sweetly inside and out. Rebekka and Tamara will make sure that you do
a thorough job. Don't disappoint them!"
      
       Looking a bit sick, Shannon and Ashley dropped to their knees. With
minimal coaxing, Nicole and Penny spread their legs and thrust their hips
forward, displaying themselves obscenely to the crowd.
      
       Nicole was surprised at how invasive a wet tongue felt, insinuating
itself into the crack of her ass. She gasped as her rectum was opened and
Shannon's tongue slithered inside like a slimy worm.
      
       Next to her, Penny moaned as Ashley's soft tongue gently probed the folds
of her labia and skilfully teased her clit erect. She was surprised at the
emotions flooding her as Ashley moved her to the very verge of orgasm with her
knowing tongue. Just before Penny came, Ashley nipped the tip of her clit hard
with her teeth. Penny squealed in shock and clamped her hands protectively over
her slit.
      
        Ashley smirked as everyone enjoyed a dirty snigger. Nicole went pale as
Shannon made a playful remark about how unsanitary it was to go straight from a
rectum to a cunt, preparatory to her invasive tongue-rape. She curled her long
tongue and jammed it into Nicole's fuckhole, wiggling it inside her as deep as
she could go. Her muscular tongue briskly folded back her labia. Nicole
whimpered as Shannon's teeth nibbled at her genitals, playfully pretending to be
about to bite out a large chunk of pink flesh.
      
       Nicole begged.
      
       "Please don't!"
      
       The audience urged her to go for it. Fed up with her antics, Erna gripped
Shannon by the hair and jerked her to her feet. She trotted her over to a clear
plastic bathtub.
      
       "Strip and get in!"
      
       Nicole's hands started to go towards the choke rope. Totally in command,
the Amazonian security babe froze her with a look.
      
       Since the French maid outfit was designed for quick removal, Shannon
stripped in no time and stepped into the tub.
      
       "Sit!"
      
       Looking scared, Shannon sat in the middle of the tub. Erna grabbed Ashley
and muscled her over to the tub where she quickly stripped for the crowd.
      
       "Sit back to back and link your elbows!"
      
       Ashley sat in the see-through plastic tub resting her back against
Shannon's smooth, warm, bare back. Her breasts bobbed perkily as she hooked her
elbows around Shannon's. Erna set up chairs around the tub and turned to the
audience.
      
       "Does anybody want to drain the lizard?"
      
       Grinning men scrambled up on the chairs and unzipped. Erna held up her
hand to halt the proceedings. She glared at the two fashion models.
      
       "Open your mouths and keep them open or I'll pound you shitless!"
      
       She flexed one of her massive biceps. Thoroughly cowed, Shannon and
Ashley opened their mouths. Erna gestured to an overhead walkway with a slit
down the middle as she addressed the female members of the audience.
      
       "Ladies are welcome to squat overhead."
      
       She grinned at the men on the chairs, dicks in hand.
      
       "Gentlemen, start your engines!"
      
       Streams of dark, smelly beer piss squirted into flinching faces and
sprayed bouncing tits. A steady spatter of pee began raining down from the
overhead walkway to soak their hair. Erna issued a brief warning.
      
       "Keep those mouths open nice and wide, you smartmouth cunts. If you close
them even the tiniest bit, I'll twist your tits off with my bare hands!"
      
       Shannon and Ashley, soaked and miserable, opened wide and kept them open
as streams of smelly pee sprayed tastily over their tongues and more piss
trickled down their faces and into their mouths. The level of yellow in the tub
began to rise and they felt a warm trickle of urine flow into their slits.
      
       Erna stalked back to a smirking Penny and Nicole.
      
       "Is something funny, sluts?"
      
       The smirk was instantly wiped from their faces, replaced by naked fear.
      
       Erna glanced at Nicole's legs.
      
       "Spread 'em, nice and wide."
      
       Nicole parted her shapely legs, exposing her smooth shaven slit to the
crowd again, as Katrina positioned a steel bar between her slender ankles. A
short length of chain attached to a shackle hung from either end of the bar. The
shackles were clamped snugly around her ankles. The chain allowed limited
movement, but the bar kept her spread and totally exposed.
      
       "Hands behind your back!"
      
       A long leather sleeve fitted with a row of straps and buckles was slipped
over her arms. Her hands, palms facing each other, were slipped into stiff
leather pouches sewn together at the end of the sleeve, separating them and
rendering them useless. A studded black leather belt was wrapped around the two
pouches and cinched tight, just above her knuckles, forcing her fingers flat.
The row of straps along the sleeve was buckled to bone crunching tightness,
crushing her arms together and forcing her bare breasts up and out.
      
       A large sponge glued around the end of a metal pipe with holes drilled
into it was forced between her lips. A strap, fastened to the pipe and buckled
around the back of her head, held the pipe in place between her teeth while the
thick sponge on the end of the pipe filled her mouth.
      
       Next to her, Ashley was being forced into a similar outfit.
      
       Erna held up a gorilla mask.
      
       "Ready for the Costume Ball, slut?"
      
       The mask was fitted over Nicole's face. The end of the pipe protruded
from the mouth of the mask. There were no eyeholes, so Nicole found herself in a
world of darkness. It was a stuffy, itchy world of darkness as the inside of the
mask was lined with goat hair, laced with shredded fibreglass insulation.
      
       Her torso was wrapped in a furry, ape skin corset lined with the itchy,
irritating goat hair sprinkled with shredded fibreglass insulation. It laced
together behind her. Katrina rested a knee against her back and pulled the
corset laces brutally tight, constricting her chest. Unable to breath normally
in the tight corset, Nicole began to suck in air in a series of rapid, shallow
pants. Inside the corset, her breasts and belly, chaffing against the goat
hairs, began to burn a bright red.
      
       Her ankles were unclamped briefly as hair leggings were pulled up her
legs to cover her thighs and calves. High-heeled goat-hair-lined booties were
fitted over her feet and buckled in place. Her pretty toes curled as the soles
of her feet began to itch desperately.
      
       Unable to hear any commands inside the heavy, claustrophobic mask, she
was pushed into a large cage. The backs of her knees were kicked and Nicole was
forced to kneel. Her face, burning red inside the mask, was forced to the floor.
The pipe protruding from her mouth fitted into a hole in the floor of the cage
and was clamped firmly in place. Underneath the cage floor, the end of the pipe
was connected via a hose to a large drip bottle of urine. A bar never lacks for
piss. The urine in the drip bottles had been left in pans, allowing a lot of the
water to evaporate. This concentrated the essence and produced a truly tasty
vintage. Nicole moaned as she began to suck on the stale urine that soaked the
sponge filling her mouth.
      
       In the cage next to her, Penny was also kneeling and savouring the taste
of concentrated beer piss. Her legs were spread and her ankles clamped down to
the floor of the cage.
      
       Feeling hot and feverish, their red, irritated skin burned in itchy
distress. Penny and Nicole knelt in adjoining cages, kissing the floor, sucking
on urine concentrate, their rumps in the air, genitals exposed.
      
       Playfully, Erna waggled the monkey tails in the air. Each was attached to
a thick butt plug. With no lubrication, using only brute force, she rammed them
home to complete their monkey suits. Penny and Nicole shrieked wildly at the
brutal violation. Pulling the trigger at the base of each tail, she caused the
thick knob at the end of each butt plug to open like a flower inside her
victims' bowels, anchoring it in place. 
      
       Lest she be enjoying herself too much, Erna returned to Nicole's cage
with a bare, glowing 200-watt light bulb on the end of a long cord. She calmly
listened to the blood-curdling scream as she parted Nicole's labia and touched
her cuntlips with the hot bulb, turning it continually to ensure contact with
the hottest spot. She scorched her shrieking victim's genitalia until the
cuntlips were bright red, fully distended and obscenely swollen to the
proportions of a cow cunt.
      
       Even inside her stifling mask, Penny could hear Nicole's screams. Her
fearful speculations about the possible cause were ended when the hot light bulb
kissed her cuntlips. Her full-throated shrieks, even muffled by a mouthful of
sponge and a heavy mask, were clearly audible. Even those sitting at the most
distant tables got a satisfying earful.
      
       The two Rape Apes, Romeo and Valentino, were led in and placed in a cage
with their victims. Chosen for their sexual aggressiveness and stamina, the
large hairy apes sniffed at the grotesquely swollen, proffered fuckholes, Penny
and Nicole whimpering with every puff of ape breath on their seared genital
openings. The apes, exploring further, drew sharp squeals as they tugged at the
distended, exquisitely throbbing labia. The cries of females in profound
distress rose sharply as they slipped their hairy fingers into the tight
orifices. All this merely excited the animals. Romeo and Valentino cut the
foreplay and moved to mount their 'mates'. 
      
       As they mounted their 'mates' for an ear-splitting ape rape,
jack-hammering their hard penises into aching, burning holes, Erna and Katrina
chatted amicably. Erna eyed the clock.
      
       " We only have to wait another hour. Then it's midnight and the
Frauleinschlachtfest begins."
      
       Katrina gestured at Penny and Nicole, bellowing hoarsely under the hard,
hairy assault.
      
       "It's so kind of our guests to volunteer to attend the party."
      
       Erna eyed them judiciously.
      
       "I think those costumes look much better than the ones they selected:
Cleopatra and Josephine indeed!"
      
       Katrina sniggered.
      
       "When it comes time to move them to the Schachtfest, it would be a shame
to interrupt them when they're in the throes of passion."                                                         
	
	Erna spoke piously albeit loudly to carry over all the noise as the
rutting primates rattled the cages with their fast, brutal thrusts. The searing
penile pounding caused the raw screams of anguish to rise to a fresh peak.

	"We don't have to interrupt them. We can ship them to the party in their
cages along with their 'lovers'. We must let true love run its course."

	Katrina nudged her.

	"Oh, Erna, you're such a romantic!" 

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