Between the wine and the NyQuil, Guy slept soundly all through the night despite Dawn's fierce and constant struggling. He awoke once or twice to pee down her throat, but besides those fleeting moments of wakefulness, his sleep was deep and uninterrupted.

He finally awoke late the next morning as Dawn lay still underneath him. Feeling horny, he was about to pound her face when he smelled an odor.

Examining her crotch, her diaper was so full of shit that it was oozing out and dribbling down the rear of the mattress and pooling under the headboard. He rolled off her, fighting the urge to hurl at the stench.

Flipping the blankets back, he scolded her, "Couldn't you wait until morning, bitch?"

Dawn remained motionless and didn't answer.

"Dawn? Answer me, Dawn!"

Grabbing her face he opened her eyelids. Her eyes were rolled up.

"Dawn! You're scaring me."

Noticing her in the light, her skin was an odd shade of purplish gray. When he leaned close to her face, he could tell she wasn't breathing. And when he pressed an ear to her chest, he heard silence.

Dawn was dead.

He jumped on her and began to administer CPR.

"Dawn!" he cried. "Don't be dead! Please! Don't be dead!"

After a half hour of breathing and pumping her, there was still no reaction. How long had she been dead underneath him? Maybe for hours.

He sat there on the side of the bed and wailed. Tears poured down his face.

"I shouldn't have mixed so many different tortures together all at once," he sobbed.

He sat for a long time, pondering what to do.

Then he removed the skewers and all the pins and needles from her. He pulled the threads out from her pussy lips and removed the electric shock dildo, and straightened her arms and legs.

Dawn deserved a decent funeral, but he could hardly deliver her body to an undertaker without all sorts of complications.

And the winter ground in his back yard was too frozen to bury her with the rest of his pets.

A few days later, he had spent the night in a roadside motel up in rural Maine. The frigid weather kept her body frozen solid in a large rubber storage bin in the trunk of his car.

A drive through rural back roads found a deserted spot up in the Appalachian Mountains miles from the nearest house where he left her naked body. Having collected a handful of Canadian coins as change during his road trip, he tossed the coins away as he returned to his car, not wanting anything in his possession that might serve as evidence that he was close to the Canadian border.

Detective John Simpson scanned the search report. No fingerprints matched on either the State or National databases, no match on any missing persons database, a complete Jane Doe.

Detective John Simpson looked up as Detective Waterson wandered by. "Any luck on your Jane Doe?" asked Waterson.

"Nope," said Simpson. "No fingerprint match on the state or national databases. No match on any missing persons database. Nothing."