Fred was browsing the postings in the alt.torture newsgroup when he came upon this post:
> Hi, > My name is Candy. I am a female pain slut with a > death wish. I would like to correspond with males > or females who would tell me how they would kill me > if they ever met me.
Fred figured her for a troll, but shot off a quick reply anyway.
> Hi Candy, > I know exactly what I would use you for! Reply if > you want to know what :-)
To his surprise, Fred received an email from Candy the following day.
> Hi Fred, > Thank you for your email. I am very interested in > what you would like to use me for. It really gets > me wet when guys talk dirty and mean to me. The > more dominant the better. > > Love from your slave slut, Candy
> Hi Candy, > It's great to have my own slut. The first thing I > would use you for is to be my cum sponge. I'd strap > your mouth to my cock with a harness that fits round > my hips and also around your head and "wear" you all > day long! > > Of course, that's somewhat tame for a start. I have > other ideas more nasty than this! Write back and I'll > tell you what dangerous (to you) uses I would put your > body to by day, and what disgusting uses I would put > your body to at night. I mean besides filling all your > holes with my cum ;-)
Fred and Candy replied back and forth for a few weeks, each e-mail hotter than the one before.
Eventually, Candy challenged Fred to satisfy her death fantasy.
> So, when are you planning to come and kill me?
> If you're really serious about this, I'll meet you at > Newark airport whenever you decide to come.
Fred met Candy at Newark airport two weeks later on a Friday afternoon. They had exchanged photos, and they both instantly recognized each other. Fred grinned as the tall attractive blonde woman approached him in the arrivals' concourse. Candy dropped her bags and they hugged tightly as if they had been longtime lovers.
He carried her bags for her and strode out the terminal building through the mass of parked cars to his red Jaguar.
Two hours later after a westward ride along I-80 to Pennsylvania, they had arrived at Fred's large secluded farm in the Pocono Mountains.
Upon entering his house, Fred told her, "We'll get started tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to fill all your holes with my cum."
"That sounds like fun," she answered.
That night, the two virtual strangers got in bed together. "Tonight, Candy, you're my fuck toy," he told her.
She threw herself on her back on the bed, spread her arms and legs open wide, and replied, "Knock your self out!"
He climbed over her head and dove into her muff. He began by gently caressing her clit with his lips. He licked all around the perimeter of her twat. Then he started licking up and down the middle. He fucked her pussy with his tongue then moved to her clit, and then twirled and flicked her clit with his tongue. He pressed his tongue against her clit, and pressed it gently into the opening of her urethra just under her clit. He didn't know or care if she was resisting or not, but at that, she exploded in orgasm, throbbing and twitching under him.
Then he turned around to face her and plunged his cock into her soaking pussy. He pumped her cunt with all his might, and it wasn't long before he came with moan after moan.
Partially satisfied, he rolled off her and then climbed over her head once again and mounted her body with his hips over her face. Next, he pinched her jaw open and plunged his rock-hard cock into her mouth. With his arms outstretched with his hands flat on the bed on both sides of her hips, he bore down on his hips and arched his back, practically placing his entire weight on her mouth with his crotch.
Rocking his hips back and forth, the pressure in his loins quickly built again as her body throbbed from the gagging force of his cock down her throat under the full weight of his body. He came quickly for a second time, as her body bucked and rocked while he shot wads of cum deep into her throat.
Fully satisfied, he rolled off her, stroked her hair, and said, "Sleep well, my love, for tomorrow you die." He settled his head onto his pillow and went into blissful sleep.
The next morning, Saturday, after Fred served them both a hearty breakfast, he said to Candy, "So! Want to get started?"
"Sure!" she answered. "It always helps to have a full tummy before getting tortured. I even brought some of my own toys."
Candy grabbed one of her bags and they went downstairs to his homebuilt dungeon. His dungeon was fairly well equipped with suspension equipment in the middle of the ceiling, a Saint Andrews cross on one wall, and cabinets full of BDSM paraphernalia.
She dumped the satchel out onto a table in the corner. Assorted whips and other devices lay scattered on the table.
"Very interesting," he said. "Now come over here," he said pointed to the middle of the room under a rope hanging from a pulley.
"Remove your clothes now," he said.
As she got naked, he hooked a pair of wrist supports on the rope. Then he closed the supports onto her wrists. Then he walked over to a motorized capstan bolted to the floor in the corner that the other end off the rope was wound around, and raised her off the floor by a few inches.
He then picked out a couple of whips from her collection. He picked up a small riding crop and stepped up behind Candy hanging naked by her wrists from the ceiling. She let out a "Yeow!" as he swung it hard across her buttocks with a snap! He struck her a few more times, then returned to the table.
Rooting around, he said, "Ah, this is more like it!" He picked up a long heavy bullwhip and walked back over to Candy. Like a cowboy, he swung the whip around a few timed before slicing it across her back with a loud crack as she let out a loud "Yeowww! Owwww!"
Not limiting himself to her back, he walked all around her as he whipped her over and over again. Her body swing back and forth from the rope from the repeated blows. The slices in her body oozed blood that dribbled down her body and down her legs, dripping into two puddles of blood under each of her feet. He whipped her a good twenty lashes before he stopped.
Then he returned to her pile of toys. He picked up a violet wand, then said, "Nah," to himself and set it back down. He muttered, "Ahh, that's more like it," as he reached for the cattle prod.
He plugged the cattle prod in to a power point in the wall and approached Candy once again. He touched the her chest briefly with the tip of the prod, causing her to let out a screech. Then he began prodding her more aggressively, in the stomach, on her buttocks, on her breasts, on one of her nipples then the other, into her bellybutton. For the grand finale, he kneeled down and shoved it upward into her crotch burying the tip into her twat. She screamed in agony as he twisted and twirled the prod until it slid up into her pussy where he pushed it up to where its tip should be pressing against her cervix.
She finally passed out from the pain, and so he removed it and reversed the capstan to lower her body to the floor. Then he carried her over to a gurney and applied Salve to her many bloody gashes and gouges all over her body.
The next day, Sunday, Fred led Candy into his dungeon once again and told her to sit down in a chair next to a workbench on which were mounted a pair of vices. He tied her securely to the chair then pulled her outstretched arm out straight and placed he between the jaws of the two vices.
"I'm curious," she asked, "what are you doing?"
He answered, "Our first scene yesterday was great fun, but before I do anything else to you, I'm going to sign your body. I'm going to take a knife and carve my initials into your body, and then use a soldering iron to trace the knife cuts for extra emphasis!"
"Oooh! Sounds like fun," she said. "Will it hurt?"
"Extremely so," he answered with a grin.
"Oh, I'm getting wet already," she told him.
Candy whimpered as he turned the cranks to close the vices tightly onto her arm and wrist.
He walked over to a counter and returned with a fistful of steak knives. Taking one, he began to carve his initials into her upper arm. He made two strokes, cutting a deep V-gouge in her flesh, for each mark. She bucked in her chair at the first cut, and he had to tighten the vice to prevent her from ruining his monogram. She screamed in agony at each slice. By the time he had finished the full design, she had passed out with her upper body slumped down in the chair hanging comically by her one arm clamped in place by the vice.
He left her there, bound and clamped in place, the rest of the day so that she could not mar the design. He released her in the evening to prepare dinner, then he took her to bed after both having bathed. In a repeat of the previous night, he licked her wet, fucked her pussy, fucked her mouth, then fell to sleep with a satisfied sigh.
Fred and Candy spent the rest of their first week together in a blur of fucking, dining out, and going partying in the downtown clubs.
Then, on the following Saturday afternoon, Fred brought a shovel and a four-foot length of PVC pipe out to his wooded back yard and started digging in a secluded location among the trees. It wasn't long before the oblong hole took on the appearance of a grave. As Candy watched, he dug the hole two feet wide by six feet long and three feet deep.
"What is that hole for?" she asked. "Is it my grave?"
"It could be your grave, Candy," he answered as he climbed out of it. "Take your clothes off and get in," he commanded.
She removed her clothes right there in the back yard and then stepped into her grave, naked.
"Now lay down on your back in the hole," he said.
She lay on her back in the hole, staring up at the sky. "So this is it, huh?" she asked.
"Maybe," he answered again. "I'm going to leave you buried all week. If I don't die in an auto wreck or anything, I'll dig you up next weekend, dead or alive."
He took the section of PVC pipe. He stepped into the hole with her and, pinching her jaw open, placed one end of the pipe into her mouth. Then, holding the pipe vertical, he kicked some of the dirt back into the hole, covering her body. He then used the shovel to fill the hole completely, leaving about one foot of the pipe sticking up from the rectangular dirt patch. He placed a 180-degree elbow onto the top of the pipe so that rain wouldn't fill the pipe. Then he taped a small square of cloth screen over the downward pointing end to keep bees from building a hive in the end of the pipe.
By then, it was late in the evening, so he went back inside to eat, take a shower, and go to bed.
The next morning, before he left for work, he went out back, removed the elbow from the pipe and pissed down the pipe so she wouldn't die of thirst, then replaced the pipe.
His day at work was uneventful, and upon returning home in the evening, he gave her another warm drink.
The week went by without mishap. He thought about digging Candy up on Friday night and taking her out partying so he could fuck her that night -- if she was still alive. But he decided to go out on his own. Unfortunately, he came home alone that night, dropped into bed after a quick shower, then slept late on Saturday.
He went out back Saturday afternoon after getting up late and having a quick breakfast. He began digging, and was careful as he got a couple of feet deep so as not to cut into her with the shovel.
He climbed in, kneeling while straddling her, and it wasn't long that her pink flesh started showing as he dug around her. He nearly jumped out of his skin when, with only a few inches of soil on her, she lifted her arms out of the soil, wiped the dirt from around her face, and pulled the pipe out of her mouth.
She looked well enough aside from a couple of cuts in her chest from the shovel and countless welts and bug bites all over her body. She had also lost a bit of weight, not that she was at all overweight before, but she now appeared to be quite slender.
She grinned up at him and he said, "So, you're still alive, I see."
"Yeah, I guess you need to do better next time."
"I guess I do. How do you feel?" he asked.
"Horny," she answered.
He couldn't believe it. "You're horny?"
"I am so fucking horny right now I can't stand it," she insisted.
Taking the hint, he dropped his jeans and mounted her right there in the hole.
That night, both freshly showered and full from a hearty meal, they fucked nearly all night long.
Fred let a week go by after her burial to let her body heal before attempting the next stage.
The following Saturday, Fred brought Candy back to his dungeon. He placed a step stool in front of the Saint Andrews cross and told her to undress and stand on the stool. He strapped her wrists and ankles to the cross. Then he removed the stool, leaving her suspended above the floor
"Now," he announced to her, "I'm going to play a game of Human Darts. Do you want to know how it works?"
"Yeah, sure," she answered nonchalantly.
"I'll score points depending on what part of your body I hit with a dart. Each nipple will be worth 100 points, the areola is 50 points, and the rest of the breast will be worth 10 points. Your muff will be worth 50 points. Your belly button will be 50 points. Anywhere else on your body will be 1 point. I'll try not to hit your face, but if I do, each eye will be worth 100 points. Your nose will be worth 50 points, and if a dart goes into your mouth and sticks into the back of your throat it will be worth 50 points. Anywhere else on your face is worth 10 points. Each day, I will play until I reach 1000 points. You will probably suffer internal injuries and infections all over your body, resulting in slow eventual death. How does that sound, Candy?"
"Sounds like fun!" she answered with a smile.
He started playing. At first, he wasn't very good. Most of his darts struck her torso for 1 point each, and she screamed in pain for every dart that impaled her flesh with its sharp point. He occasionally hit a breast, and once hit her areola, and once hit her muff, but never scored a "bulls eye" for 100 points. It took several hours for him to reach 1000 points. By then, trickles of blood were running down her legs and a small puddle of blood had started to pool underneath each of her feet.
After his game, he went upstairs to eat, and brought a plate of food and drink down for her. He spoon-fed her still chained to the cross, and then went up to bed.
When he went down to her on Sunday, he had to clean a smelly mess on the floor under her ass. Then he played again, doing a little better. At first, she didn't scream as much as the day before, but then he hit an areola on her left breast and her scream nearly shattered the windows.
"Hey! I'm getting better, aren't I?" he asked her.
"Yeah," she gasped in answer.
He continued playing, hitting an areola a few more times before he reached 1000 points.
He left her shackled to the cross the rest of the week. He played a game of darts each night when he returned home from work. By the end of the night, his aim had become pretty good. When he aimed for a nipple, he could expect to hit the areola at least. He often planted a dart in her belly button, and her muff was a forest of darts by the end of a game.
One time, he did hit her face my mistake. Fortunately, it hit her in the cheek and only chipped a tooth in the back of her mouth.
That following Saturday, he removed her from the cross and she fell into his arms physically exhausted. He carried her upstairs and drew a bubble bath for the both of them. Getting in the deep luxurious tub with Candy in his lap, he washed the crusted blood off her body from the countless scabs from the stab wounds.
He was less shocked this time when she announced that she was, again, horny as hell. So they made love in the tub as they rubbed bubbles into each other's hair.
Again, Fred let a week go by to let her wounds heal before continuing to the next stage.
The next Saturday, Fred brought Candy back down to his dungeon again and had her lay down on a gurney. He strapped her wrists and ankles down and belted her down tightly. Then, taking a handful of safety pins, he inserted a pin into each of her most erogenous zones. He inserted one pin through each of her nipples, and a third through her clit.
Next he connected a toy train transformer to each of the safety pins with alligator clips.
He turned the speed control up slightly and watched her twitch in and scream in pain. After a few moments, he turned the control up, causing her twitching to become more violent and her screaming to become louder.
Satisfied that she was in sufficient agony, he left the control at that setting and went upstairs to have a bite of lunch.
Later that day, he returned to her with some smelling salts and awakened her back to consciousness.
As had become routine, he had let a week go by to let her body heal somewhat from the previous torture. These weeks between tortures had become a domestic setting of sorts, dealing with cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping, and all those other tasks that all couples need to find time for in their day-to-day lives.
The following Friday night, he joined her in bed bringing a large plastic box with him.
"What's in the box, love?" she asked.
"Something you'll enjoy, I'm sure, love," he answered. He pulled the covers off her exposing her nude body. "Just lay there and let me take care of everything," he told her.
He opened the box and removed a thumbtack. He jabbed her in the belly with the thumbtack as she yelped, "Ow!"
He pressed it into her flesh to its flat head as blood oozed from under the thumbtack. Then he took another thumbtack and stuck it into her nipple. He stuck another thumbtack into her muff.
By the time he was done, her body, breasts, arms, and legs were covered with hundreds of thumbtacks.
"Does it hurt, love?" he asked.
She took a breath and gasped, "Yeah... it... hurts..."
"Good," he said, then climbed on top of her.
She screamed, "Ahhhh! Owwwww! Yowwwwww!" as he let his weight press down on those hundreds of thumbtacks. He shoved his hard cock into her soaking pussy and pumped her as she screamed in pain with each thrust. She even squeezed his cock with her pussy muscles as she came in unison.
Finally spent, he lowered his head next to hers placing his chin against the top of her shoulder, and dozed off to sleep on top of her body.
The next morning, he woke her and pulled each of the thumbtacks out one by one. As was becoming routine, her torso was a crusty bloody mess. They showered together and then they changed the bloody sheets on the bed.
One evening the following week, Fred and Candy were sitting watching TV as Fred was flipping pages of a manuscript in his lap, oblivious to the show.
"What'cha doing, love?" she asked.
"Just proofreading this speech I gotta give this weekend for that freedom rally I told you about."
"Really? If you're giving a speech, you really ought to rehearse it like you were really giving it."
"Hmm. You know? You're right! Come with me, love."
With speech in hand, Fred led Candy down to his dungeon once again. "Get naked, then get down on all fours in front of that mirror," he instructed her.
While she did so, he changed his shoes into a pair of golf shoes -- the kind with the little steel spikes sticking out from the bottom of the soles. Then, with speech in hand, he placed one foot onto her naked back and stepped up. She let out a visceral "Yeowww!" as he put his weight on his foot forcing the spikes to sink into her flesh. Then he stepped up with his other foot, faced the mirror, and began speaking:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, most of us regard the political spectrum as a one-dimensional number line with liberals on the left and conservatives on the right."
"As we all know, conservatives on the right believe in responsibility without liberty. They say that your purpose in life is to contribute to society and that you can do anything you want that makes a profit. However, activities you do merely for the fun of them, that do not contribute to the national economy, are strictly forbidden and will result in brutal penalties. Conservative individuals include George Bush, Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher, Newt Gingrich, and Bob Dole. Conservative organizations include the Republican Party, the NRA, the Moral Majority, and the Christian Coalition."
"And as we also know, liberals on the left believe in liberty without responsibility. They say that your purpose in life is to do anything you want (as long as you don't say anything that offends women or minorities, of course), and that you must be tolerant of everyone else (except for people who hold offensive opinions or defend offensive facts, of course). And if you make a mistake, they will, out of humanitarian compassion, force everyone else help you out, and apply brutal penalties upon those who refuse. Liberal individuals include Bill Clinton, F.D. Roosevelt, Gloria Steinem, and Al Sharpton. Liberal organizations include the Democratic Party, the Socialist Party, the ACLU, the NAACP, and NOW."
Candy seemed to be getting tired as she swayed under Fred's weight and he almost lost his balance. He lifted a foot and stepped back down a fraction of an inch to the side to regain his balance, letting blood trickle out the, now open, puncture wounds where his foot had just been. He continued:
"However, there is a second dimension that the media elite are valiantly keeping us ignorant of. This second dimension swings up and down rather than left to right."
"Authoritarians at the bottom believe in neither liberty nor responsibility. They say that your purpose in life is to do exactly as you are told, and they make all your choices. They will take from you whatever you are able to give, and give to you what you need to survive. If you oppose this, or even disagree, they will kill you. Authoritarian individuals include Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, So Damn Insane, Fidel Castro, and Lyndon LaRouche. Authoritarian organizations include the Communist Party, the Nazi Party, and the KKK."
"Libertarians at the top believe in both liberty and responsibility. They say that your purpose in life is whatever you decide it is. They say that force is always wrong under all circumstances, except, and only except in self-defense. However, you may solicit assistance from others in your self-defense; this defines the one and only legitimate role of government. Therefore, you can do anything, say anything, and live anyway you want; but you must not commit violence against others and you must pay for or suffer for your own mistakes. You can buy insurance in advance or ask for charity from others in the event of personal misfortune, but you cannot threaten others with violence and force them to help you in the name of 'compassion, ' or 'tolerance, ' or 'the social good.' You can buy, sell, or trade any product or service with anybody else, as long as the exchange is truly by mutual consent. But you cannot force someone to trade with you in the name of 'equal rights.' You can interact with anyone else in any way as long as the interaction is mutually consensual. There are no limits to your activities whatsoever, except to prohibit physical bodily assault, and theft, vandalism or trespass of each other's property. There are very few pure Libertarian individuals, but people who are generally Libertarian include Thomas Jefferson, John Stuart Mill, Ayn Rand, Walter Lippman, Henry David Thoreau, Woodrow Wilson, Sir Winston Churchill, Milton Friedman, and Steve Forbes. Libertarian Organizations include the Libertarian Party, Advocates for Self Government, the International Society for Individual Liberty, the Institute for Justice, the CATO Institute, the Fully Informed Juries Association, the Electronic Frontier Foundation, and the Reason Foundation."
"Therefore, the political spectrum is a large playing field with countless possibilities rather than a simple number line. If we are to have true civil rights, equality, social justice, and freedom in America, we need to educate people of this truth. Thank you."
Fred bowed to the mirror and stepped off Candy's back, leaving dozen's of tiny puncture wounds spouting blood.
He sat in a chair and removed his bloody golf shows as Candy sat next to him, trickles of blood running down her back. He opened a box of Band-Aids that he had ready and applied one to each of her puncture wounds.
When Fred returned from work the following Friday night, he kissed Candy and immediately went into his bedroom. When he returned, he was carrying a package of adult diapers. He was also naked except for half a harness around his hips and the cock ring held snugly at the base of his dick. The head half of the harness hung loosely from the ring.
"What's all this?" she asked when she saw him in the harness.
"Just put a diaper on, and you'll see," he answered.
She put the diaper on and asked, "Is this for me?" pointing to the harness-half dangling from his cock ring.
"Yes, love. Your head goes in this harness with your mouth hooked to my cock by this cock ring."
"Ohhh! Looks like fun." She knelt in front of him without prompting. She opened her mouth as he stepped forward sliding his cock into it. Then he buckled the straps around the back of her head. Each time he buckled a strap, it forced his cock ever deeper into her mouth. He continued to buckle straps, forcing his cock all the way to the back of her mouth, making her gag. He buckled the last few straps forcing his cock down her throat, at which she started bucking involuntarily.
"Relax, Candy," he assured her. "You'll get used to it."
Fred started walking forward to the kitchen, gently pushing Candy to crawl backward on her knees with her head strapped to his crotch. He made it to the kitchen where he took a pizza out of the freezer and nuked it, and then grabbed a few beers from the fridge.
He slowly made his way back to the sofa in the living room and sat down. Sitting on the sofa with her head between his thighs harnessed to his cock, her constant gagging felt like her throat muscles were milking his cock, and he exploded into her throat with a wave of ecstasy.
After his climax had subsided, he clicked on the TV and settled down to watch a Max Headroom marathon on Tech TV.
Eight or so hours later, he had finished his pizza, drank four beers, and had watched every Max Headroom episode ever made. It felt great to not have had to get up once to take a leak.
He turned the TV off and slowly made his way into the bathroom where he sat on the toilet and took a shit. He wiped his ass and also reached down between his legs and wiped her chin where the water had splashed her when his shit splashed into the bowl.
Then he made his way into the bedroom and led her into the bed. Still attached, he slowly positioned her on the bed with her head under the covers and her legs sticking up over the headboard. He settled himself on top of her with his cock pressing down into her mouth. He grabbed a pillow, placed it on her crotch, and rested his head down to sleep.
He came a few times during the night and, as with watching TV, it was wonderful to be able to piss during the night without having to even move from off the bed.
He wore her constantly during the remainder of the weekend, only detaching her twice a day to change her diaper. On Monday morning, he detached her and kissed her as he left for work.
A few days later, Fred summoned Candy down to his dungeon. He had dragged out a triplet of steamer trunks from a large closet off the dungeon.
"Observe," he said to her as he assembled the, obviously homebuilt, object. About 20 minutes later, there on the floor of the dungeon was a six-inch high padded platform two feet wide and six feet long. In addition, it also had a box mounted at one end with a toilet seat mounted on top of the box such that the seat was the standard height of a normal toile seat. The thing had a number of shackles at about where a person's wrists and ankles would be. There was a 10-inch diameter hole in the center of the flat surface about where a person's butt would be, with a Tupperware tub beneath the hole. The inside bottom of the toilet seat box was lined with plastic and heavily padded at the bottom.
Satisfied that he had tightened the carriage bolts that fastened all the parts together, he opened the toilet box that was hinged horizontally and held it open.
"Lay down on that, Candy," he told her.
Candy obediently laid down on the platform and rested her head in the plastic lining of the bottom half of the toilet box. Then, he closed the box over her head leaving her face framed by the toilet seat. He latched the box closed and then latched the shackles on her wrists and ankles. He buckled several leather belts tightly across her chest, hips, and legs. Lastly, he placed a short section of white PVC pipe between her legs down into the Tupperware tub; it had a small near the top of the pipe facing her clit.
At that, he went back upstairs to have lunch. As he sat on his sofa to eat and have a pint, he caught a rerun of Star Trek.
After a time, the beer demanded release in the insistent way that beer does. He walked back into the dungeon and, nonchalantly, took a seat on the commode in which Candy's face was framed. She gasped as he leaned forward and inserted his limp dick into her mouth.
Having never used a toilet slave before, it took Fred a while to relax enough to let his piss flow into Candy's mouth. Eventually, he did relax and emptied his bladder into her mouth. He was surprised that she kept up with him in her swallowing.
He used her a few more times that day, and left her locked in the toilet-slave bench for the rest of the week.
The day came that he needed to take a crap. He returned to the dungeon and took a seat on Candy's face, this time with his anus over her mouth. He grunted and pushed a lump of shit out of his asshole into Candy's mouth. Then another. Then another. Then he stood, wiped his ass with a roll of toilet paper he had left on the floor next to the bench, and shoved the wad of used toilet paper into her mouth.
Fred used Candy as his toilet the rest of the week, releasing her on Saturday so that he could fuck her Saturday night.
The following Saturday afternoon, he sat her on the sofa and told her to get naked once again. Then he pulled a syringe out of a medical bag.
"Oooh! Drugs!" she said. "Heroin?" she asked.
"Hardly, love." he laughed. "It's anti-venom for bee stings. A kink-friendly doctor friend of mine gave me a few doses to play with," he said with a sly grin.
He wiped her arm with a cotton swap dipped in alcohol and gave her the shot.
"Will this get me high or anything?"
"Probably not. But it might keep you alive. Come with me."
Candy followed Fred back outside into his woods and stopped at a large tree that had a couple of eyebolts screwed into it. He then shackled her wrists and chained her to the tree with short lengths of chain.
"I feel woozy," she said, her speech slightly slurred.
"Probably the anti-venom. You'll be needing it in a minute."
He walked back into his house, got out his old air rifle, and went back outside. He took aim at the wasps' nest in the branches directly above Candy's head and shot it, again and again, until the hive was shredded and Candy was screaming in agony as her naked body appeared to be a silhouette of angry black wasps.
Fred went back outside Sunday morning and unchained her red swollen body that looked like one big blister. Relieved that she was still breathing and had a pulse, he carried her into the house, washed her off, and put her in the bathtub full of warm water.
He sat in the bathroom with her the rest of the day, keeping the water warm, until she regained consciousness that night.
"Man! You're a tough girl to kill, Candy," he said to her with a laugh.
She just smiled and moaned in answer. He lifted her out of the tub and carried her to bed.
The next Saturday, Fred brought Candy back down to his dungeon again.
"Take off your clothes and stand here," he said pointing to the middle of the floor directly beneath a pulley mounted securely in the ceiling.
"I take it you're going to suspend me somehow, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yup!" he answered. "And if this doesn't kill you, I don't know what will."
He started by cuffing her wrists behind her back. Then he took one length of rope with a pulley attached to one end and threaded this rope through the pulley in the ceiling. Letting the pulley end of the rope hang down over her head, he wrapped the other end of the rope to the capstan.
Taking another rope, he tied one end tightly around one of her breasts.
"Owww!" she screamed. "That fucking hurts!"
"Yeah, well, it's supposed to hurt," he answered.
He threaded the end of that rope through the pulley hanging from the first rope and tied the other end tightly around her other breast.
Finally, he started the capstan, which slowly pulled the first rope pulling her up by the breasts.
"Owww! Owwww!" she screamed. "Damn! This hurts worse than the fucking darts!"
She tried to stand on her tiptoes to take her weight off her breasts, but ultimately her feet lifted off the floor as she hung by her breasts.
Her breasts glowed bright red like bulbous red mushrooms, as she kicked her legs and screamed in agony.
"Let's see how long you last like this, Candy," he said as he closed the door and closed the light in the dungeon.
The next time he came down to check on her was on Monday after work. He panicked when he saw that her breasts were black and she had passed out.
He didn't really want her to die just yet, so he immediately prepared for amateur surgery. He lowered her to the floor with the capstan, but he left the rope tied tightly to her breasts to keep the gangrene from spreading to her chest.
Using a sharp knife, he sliced each of her breasts off right through the rope, close to her chest. He pulled the skin tightly over the two large open wounds, and stitched the two seams closed. Then he carried her upstairs, still unconscious, and placed her in bed. He showered and then joined her.
The next morning, he woke to her moaning.
"Morning, love," he whispered in her ear.
"Morning, love," she answered back. She tried to move and let out a screech.
"Relax, you'll be okay."
She reached up to her bandaged chest and let out another shriek. "My tits! Where are my tits?"
"I had to cut 'em off or you'd have died from gangrene."
"But I want to die!" she screamed. "That's the whole point of this!"
"You'll die, alright, but not just yet," he assured her.
The following Saturday, Fred had Candy lay on her stomach on the gurney in the dungeon. Again, he shackled her wrists and ankles. Then he inserted a funnel into her asshole.
He then went over to the counter and poured some rubbing alcohol, assorted peppers, bleach, and ammonia into a blender, and set it to maximum for about two minutes. Pinching his nose at the burning odor, he removed the pitcher, walked over to Candy, and poured the concoction into the funnel whereby Candy released the loudest shriek of pain yet.
Fred rooted through a drawer for some earplugs and put them in his ears so her screams wouldn't cause him to go deaf. Then after her cries of pain died down, he took a bottle of hydrochloric acid and poured a few drops into the funnel, causing Candy to resume her shrieking.
During the following week, Fred had to buy another package of adult diapers on his way home from work, for the preceding torture seemed to have damaged her sphincter muscles so that she could no longer hold her shit in and suffered constant diarrhea thereafter.
While sitting at breakfast the following Saturday, Fred asked Candy, "Do you like horses?"
"Yeah!" she answered. "I love horses!"
"Good. Follow me, love."
He led Candy out and down a path behind his house to a small barn. In the barn was three horses, one of which was a large brown stallion with a black main.
They stopped in front of the stall and he said to her, "Meet Ol' Spirit, Candy."
"Ooooh! He's beautiful! Can I ride him?"
"Yeah. But it would probably be more accurate to say that he's going to ride you."
"Oh my," she said putting her hands to her mouth.
He led her to the rear of the barn where he told her to lay on a low narrow wooden bench. Then he led Ol' Spirit up to her and walked the stallion directly over her straddling the bench between its legs.
He explained to her, "In case you've never been around horses, Candy, I should tell you a horse has a huge cock. Its head will probably reach all the way into your stomach. Lucky for you, because horse piss really stinks! And a horse can fill a gallon milk-jug with one piss. So that'll save you from having to swallow it."
With her head directly between the horse's hind legs, he began cranking the table up. Taking a gloved hand he grabbed the horse's cock and pointed it downward toward her mouth as the table raised her up.
The table had finally raised up as far as it would go, with Candy's body pressed up against the horse's body with its 2-inch diameter 12-inch long cock down her throat. Her mouth looked like her lips would tear apart with the huge member jammed in her mouth. Then he took her arms and tied them up over the horse's rump, then tied her ankles around its neck.
He then lowered the bench and led the horse, with her strapped to its belly, out to the paddock.
"Just so you know, Candy, horses just love to wander into ponds and wallow in the water up to their shoulders when the weather is hot. Let's hope Ol' Spirit doesn't decide to do this."
Fred opened the gate from the paddock into the field, then smacked the horse on the rump, sending him cantering off.