Pig on a Pike
Her body trembles, a sheen of sweat glistening on her sweet, pale skin. Her
hair lies in tired ringlets, her messy, smeared red lips pulled down into a
terrified pout . You could love her. Crouching down, you reach toward her,
nodding as a thick, terrified whine rises in her slender throat. Yes, you could
love her-if she weren't so fucking stupid, if she weren't such a whore. You
kick her hard in the ribs, smile grimly as she grunts, strains upward, bound
legs spread wide on the cool dirt of the cellar floor.
The process is never really satisfying for you, though it does have its rewards.
You want to be wrong, want to be disappointed, and that you usually aren't is in
itself disappointing. Take this stupid bitch, for example. Hanging in Lincoln
Park, so cool, so hip, drinking with her little friends. Skirt so short it
served no purpose other than offering a narrow swath of contrasting color for
her tight sweater. Thong panties slipping so invitingly into the crack of her
round ass. Heels so high they seemed destined to tip her forward. But that's
not the test, you know that-even the nicest girls can be pressured into being
fashionable. They can be corrected, instructed, taught to value themselves more
highly.
No, the test is one of willingness. One of offering, performing degrading,
immoral acts for a price. Police may call it entrapment, but fact is, you're
not forcing these girls.
Not at first, anyway.
You don't look like what you are-even the simplest bitch knows to steer clear of
the wild-eyed man with the musty clothes. You are something of a chameleon,
slipping in and out of character as necessary. It makes your job
heartbreakingly easy. And makes the job of the police impossible.
You approached her, jeans, a nice button down, boots. Blond hair a bit mussed,
but fashionably so. She practically threw herself into your clutches. She
followed you to your car, a dismissive wave to her friends. Climbed in, long
legs folding so sexily beneath her, large, firm breasts fighting to burst free
of her tight sweater. You drove for a while, throwing out inane small talk,
then parked here-well, just outside, actually. She looked at the abandoned
home with only vague interested, her eyes returning to you expectantly. You
pulled out the pipe. She reached-you pulled away. Your hand grasped hers,
pulled it to your crotch. Rubbed it there. She smiled knowingly, nodded, her
fingers fumbling with your fly.
Whore. She claimed 18, but you know she can't be a day over 15. And already a
whore, willing to wrap her painted lips around your cock for a few tokes.
You almost cried as her mouth enveloped your stiff, aching cock. So expert, so
very talented, her tongue flicking, throat gaping to accommodate you. Her head
bobbed eagerly, her hands cupping your balls, massaging your thighs. You
moaned, biting back a sob as you wondered about her parents. Did her father
know what a worthless slut she was? Could he even imagine his little girl
gobbling a stranger's cock so eagerly? You listened, disgusted at the slurping,
sloppy noises. Your hips jerked, rising to meet her as your hands descended to
push down, harder, harder, until her nose was buried in your belly. And then
you held. First she moaned, as if she enjoyed it. And then she pushed on your
thighs, your hips, trying to pull back, get in a breath. And then she went
wild, hitting, twisting, struggling for air even as your cock began to swell,
twitch in her throat. The sound of her gagging, gulping, retching as your cock
exploded in her face was almost more than you could take-you wanted to do it
then. Right then, her stupid whore face impaled on your meat, her stupid eyes
rolling, hands pushing, hitting. Your cum bubbling out her pert little nose,
her throat constricting hard, working every drop from you even as tears flowed
down her cheeks. It was all you could do to keep from pummeling her to death
with your clenched fists.
She sat, whining, sup-supping in the passenger seat as you handed her the pipe,
the lighter. Did she try to get out of the car? Of course not. Her lips
puffy, swollen from the face fucking, her mascara running with her tears, she
reached out with shaking hands and took the pipe. Wrapped her puffy, lipstick
smeared lips around it, put torch to the weed. Dragged deeply, then held it out
to you with trembling fingers. You smiled, shook you head-no, this was all for
her, payment for making you feel so good. You watched as she took toke after
toke, her eyes glazing. You waited-you've always been so patient, everyone who
knows you notes your ability to wait for results evenly, calmly.
You smiled thinly as the pipe slipped from her fingers, a low, frightened whine
escaping her trembling lips as her eyes darted jerkily to yours. Her small hand
scrabbled at the door handle, grabbing, slipping, grabbing again. You never
moved, just smiled, watched. She tumbled to the glass strewn gravel, her face
scraping across the rough ground as her knees worked, struggling to crawl, her
pretty hands clawing stupidly, weakly. You stepped out of the car, walked to
her side, hunkering down to watch as she whined weakly, totally aware but
helpless to escape. Her mouth open, gravel, dead grass, dirt on her lips, her
tongue as her struggles cease, replaced by a low, even tremor shaking her small
body. Her eyes wide, unblinking as you reach down, lift her like a sack of
grain.
That was 5 hours ago. You hauled her into the dark house, down to the dank,
damp cellar below. The floor here is lumpy, uneven, the air thick, sickly sweet
even under the candles, the incense. You stripped her slowly, drawing each
piece of clothing from her with relish as her breath came in short, wet
whimpers. Her eyes never left you-the only part of her that could still move.
Your hands roamed over her easily, squeezing, pinching, kneading her firm
breasts. Slipping down, you spread her limp, willing legs, smelled the warm wet
of her pussy, then licked, sucked, teething her clit as she whined. Your
fingers rough inside her, pushing deep, almost clinical in their examination.
Rolling her on her belly, you drew her boneless arms back, lashed elbows and
wrists tightly together, arching her shoulders. Her whines became more
persistent, frantic, even though her body was still, helplessly drugged. You
laughed, drew first one ankle, then the other up, binding foot to thigh over a
steel pole. Flipping her onto her back, you began winding cord tightly around
the base of each ample breast, yanking tightly, knotting the cord off between
them. Her breasts standing up, away from her chest wall, like large, pale
globes. Attaching rope to the steel pole, you lifted her, so she dangled upside
down, blue eyes dark, staring at the floor below her.
The first sign of strength returning came with the nozzle being worked into her
rectum. She jerked slightly, gasped, then moaned, her body trembling as the
scalding hot water rushed into her bowels. Small grunts, whimpers escaped her
mouth as her belly cramped, burned. You could see her belly swelling, twitching
as more and more of the steaming fluid filled her. Pulling the nozzle out, you
jammed the butt plug in deep, trapping the scouring fluid inside her weakly
trembling body.
You reached into your bag, pulled out the bottle-Zoto's perming solution. Much
more effective than Nair, its weaker cousin. You clipped the cap, began pouring
it over her vulnerable pussy, being sure to work it deep into all the folds, a
finger slipping inside to coat her with the caustic cream. Massaging it to the
roots, asshole to belly, then sitting patiently, smiling, rubbing your cock
through the soft denim as the solution began to burn her soft pussy, flesh
turning pink, then angry red as her awakening body swayed, jerked clumsily. Her
darkening breasts jiggled, rolled with her pathetic struggles. Her whines began
strengthening too, building to moans, small, stupid cries as her cunt burned,
her guts twisted, cramped violently. You rose, grabbed the small camp spade,
went to work.
Another hole, you're so good at digging them now. Precise, strangely
caring-each girl gets a hole of exactly the same dimensions as the others, that
way none are slighted, none have any more or less importance than the last. . .
or the next. Sweat beads on your forehead as you dig, piling the cool, damp
dirt neatly beside the growing grave.
Her grunts, moans, gasps as her distended bowels emptied into the freshly dug
hole reaffirmed your opinion of her-pig. When all pretense is stripped from
them, they're all pigs. Snorting, grunting, spraying shit. Not human, unworthy
to walk among people. You hosed her down like the barnyard animal she is,
jamming the nozzle up her cunt, smiling as the hair on her pussy fell away,
leaving her bare, clean. Dragged her squealing, piggish body to the sawhorse,
you threw her over, her bound legs jerking, knees seeming to paw for purchase as
you stepped in behind, your large, erect cock straining for her scoured holes.
She screamed as you thrust into her tight cunt, the flesh inside her blistered,
raw from the perming solution. Your cock thick, stretching her as you began
slamming into her mercilessly, thrilling to her grunts, hoarse cries. Her small
hands, purple from the tight binding, clench into helpless fists behind her, her
dark red tits flailing, bobbing with each punishing thrust into her slim,
helpless body. She groaned, sobbed as your cock jerked inside her, swelling,
spitting forth your thick load. Pink tinged, it ran down her bruising thighs as
you withdrew, small rivulets of seed on pale, trembling flesh.
You let her tumble to the floor then, kneeling beside her as you muscled her
onto her belly once more. Her struggles were intense by then, wild, her eyes
wide, crazed. Thrashing, sobbing, beyond speech as you set to work getting hard
again. Pinching, poking with needles, sticking wooden matches in her clenching
asshole, then setting torch to them. 17 matches-one for every stupid pig that
came before her. Her screams were inarticulate, body thrusting into the dirt as
she struggled to escape your torturing hands. On her back now, her purplish
black tits thrust up before her, head raised, neck straining as she whined,
cried, watched you as you straddled her tortured chest. Pulling her ruined tits
together, you began thrusting, cock bumping her trembling chin with each forward
motion. She tried to lower her head, but you grabbed her auburn locks, jerked
her puffy, tear-stained face forward, making her watch your heaving.
You spoke to her then. Finally. For a moment hope lit her fear-darkened eyes.
That hope was extinguished immediately, replaced by horrified realization as you
told her how she would die. She struggled valiantly, admirably, but your knees
held her at bay like a horse under you. You nodded toward the pole in the
corner, watched her eyes follow yours as you told her that she would be slowly
lowered onto it, over the space of hours, if not days, her body squirming as it
pierced her. Almost clinically you explained how you would angle her body just
right, trap her mouth open, crane her head back so the sharp spike wouldn't kill
her outright. You told her how she would die of suffocation rather than
hemorrhaging, the pike exiting her mouth, lips stretched tight around it, throat
filled, blocking her airway. She'll dance, you told her. Dance like a puppet,
lungs burning, guts a soupy sea of agony as blood flows from her mouth, her
cunt.
You smiled, cock rigid, eager for her virgin ass as you moved off her. Her
struggles violent, eyes giant with horror. You told her to hope for a long,
agonizing rape of her ass, because once you were done, so was she. You grabbed
her hips, jerked her up, your thrumming cock pressed against her tight anus.
Pushing, cruel, relentless, you ground into her, her hips jumping, jerking, her
bound legs thrashing as you drove deeper, feeling her pretty ass stretch, tear
around you. Her clean, blistered bowels clenched, quivered around your meat,
milking you even as she bucked, twisted helplessly. You got a good grasp on her
upper thighs, began slamming home hard, jackhammering into her as she grunted
with each thrust, air pushed out of her with the force of your fucking. You
held her tightly, her small body scraping forward with each thrust, blackened
tits jolting, jiggling cruelly. Your cock jerked, spasmed inside her torn ass,
then exploded, filling her sundered bowels with your spunk. She was sobbing
uncontrollably by then, no hope of pleading mercy. You rose, looked down at her
ugly form-dark, destroyed tits, bruised, legs spread wide, cum drizzling from
her bald, angry red cunt, bloodied asshole.
"And now you pay for being a pigwhore." You walk to the corner, grasp the cold
iron pole. You stride back, crouch down to look closely at her drawn, smeared
face. Pike in one hand, you reach toward her, nodding as she whines, cringes.
You rise, kick her hard in the ribs before turning to seat the metal post in the
grave, point up, base secured. You lift her, roll her, secure the chain to the
ropes binding her elbows together behind her. You thread the chain carefully
through the pulley, then yank with a satisfied grunt. A scream, a violent jerk,
and the fulfilling sound of her shoulders popping, grinding, giving way. She
sways above the spike, body twisting in agony, terror, her head lowered to her
chest as she eyes the sharpened point with growing horror. You steady her with
a firm hand, lowering her slowly until the tip is firmly entrenched two inches
into her twitching pussy, then secure the chain on the wall hook. Humming a
jaunty tune, you grab her damp hair, yank her head back, twisting cord from
elbows to curls, forcing her head back at an agonizing angle, leaving her
staring at the beamed ceiling. Looping cord through her gasping mouth, you jerk
down, secure it to the knot between her angry, blood-filled breasts, trapping
her jaws wide. Nodding, satisfied, you return to the chain, smiling at the
flailing of her bound legs, the arching of her back as you lower her another
inch. Her slim hips buck, jerk, more from terror than pain, though that will
change soon enough.
You grimace as the binding on one thigh gives, her leg kicking out freely as she
twists, thick, gasping screeches escaping her trapped open mouth. You frown at
your poor workmanship-no excuse for that knot to have given. You reach for her
leg, grappling to catch it, her every ounce of energy poured into this one free
part. She catches you spang on the chin, sends you sprawling, a thick, crowing
sound of satisfaction escaping her. You rise shakily, rage coursing through you
for the first time since you first laid eyes on her. You move toward her,
sidling, wary, avoiding her flailing leg. You could just release the chain, let
her own weight bear her down onto the murderous spike, but no-you want her to
suffer longer, harder for defying you, knocking you down. Her leg kicks,
thrusts, finds the cruel pole imbedded in her raw pussy. With an agonized
scream, she kicks her hardest, unseating it, ripping it from her. You leap
forward, amazed, enraged as she thrusts it full force from her.
Your eyes fly wide as the sharpened metal pierces your belly, borne forward with
the force of her desperate kicks. You look down, astounded, at the spreading
blossom of crimson. She continues kicking, unaware that she has wounded
you-mortally. You sink forward, unable to stop yourself, the pike driving
deeper into your guts, scraping your spine as you fall forward. Your mouth
opens, a great gout of blood rushing out as you stare up in stunned despair.
Your ears roar, breath hitches as you suddenly, strangely smile. She may have
killed you, but what she's bought for herself is slow death by starvation,
dehydration. No one comes here, no one will find her for months-or years. You
laugh, a thick, wet sound.
You win.
