Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following FICTIOUS account is written by Faibhar and intended solely
for the readership of LEGALLY ADULT readers where such material
additionally meets with local standards.  DO NOT READ further if neither of
the above conditions apply to you.

   Do not continue if extreme themes offend.

   Please do not use this original work for any purpose other than your
appropriate enjoyment.  Should you be bothered by themes of torture and
mayhem, please do not continue.  Your constructive comments are welcome. 
Thank you.

   F.



   CALIENTE ALTO cont.,



   The hidden stranger repeated, "I said, what all do we have going on
here?"

   Smithey was the first to react.  As he and Susan were not accustomed to
the blare of the lights, he could almost make out the dark figures standing
near a far wall.  "Hi.  Uhm, we, well, we..."

   "Let me handle this, Allan", Master Briefs said as he officiously
stepped out of the circle of light and peered into the shadows from where
the strange voice had come.  "Look, friend.  This is all perfectly legal. I
have the permits.  But unfortunately, this production we are involved in is
a closed set, so I'm afraid that I..."

   The attorney gasped and fell to the floor clutching his wounded groin.
The other had blind-sided him with a swift kick between his legs.  Unable
to complete his earlier sentence, the proud officer of the court lay
writhing on the dirty floor.

   "They all call me Lord," the voice said as he stepped closer and came in
view of all.  Lord was unconventionally handsome, but beefy arms, facial
scars and tattoos really said all that needed to be said.  Members of
Lord's bunch gathered around just on the perimeter of light.  Clearly, the
shooting party was not being visited by a roving band of Cub Scouts.

   Smithey and the others grimaced at Master Briefs on the floor, and then
innocently at the newcomers.

   "Let that tall girl down and , " Lord started as he tripped against the
huddled body of Susan.  "Oh, excuse me, Miss.  I didn't know that there
were two of you." As Lord helped Susan to her feet, the others let down the
chain holding Candi's arms aloft.  Soon as her arms were freed, the tall
blonde rubbed her stretched forearms and biceps in relief.  She quickly
bent down and picked up the fallen gown to at least partially cover
herself. Modesty had suddenly become an issue with the new arrivals.

   Lord seldom missed noticing anything.  "Oh, no need to cover-up on our
behalf, Miss," he said to Candi who stood flat-footed and unsure of what
was her next motivation, "As a matter of fact, just the other day I was
telling the boys here just how much I have been wanting some cutting
horses. Isn't that right, Clem?"

   "Yup boss."

   "But right now I'm thinking I just might have to start out with a couple
of ponies." Lord appraised the two women before him.  "Like maybe these
two, eh?"

   Racuous laughter rang inside the metal hanger, startling the already
shocked members.

   "Seems to me I saw some saw-horses just outside the door we came
through. Some of you boys go get them and young lady," he said
patronizingly to Susan, "Let's see what you're hiding under those dumpy
clothes."

   "No way, bastard!" Susan shouted and grabbed her pants pocket but her
hand was stopped by one of Lord's minions.

   "Hey boss.  Lookee here.  This one's packin' heat."

   Lord slowly examined the small revolver in his hands, then looked back
at the defiant Susan.  "Nice weapon, little girl.  But way too big for you.
For now I think that I'll just have to hold on to it." He nodded to the two
holding her and watched as one roughly tore apart the shirt she wore while
the other sliced her pants at the waist with his knife.  Soon the Goth
Grrrl was naked, too, just like her friend Candi.

   Daylight shone in as a small door creaked open.  The wooden horses could
be heard as they were dragged closer to the group.  2X4's scraped dusty
concrete like nails on a chalkboard.

   "Somebody get lengths of that rusty cable.  We'll need that to hold
these two.  Suppose we should lock-up the 'Romans' too, but don't kill them
- they might come in handy later." Lord turned back to face both Candi and
Susan who now was fighting to keep from crying wet fury.  "Well, girls,
looks like it's just about time to 'saddle up'.  Shall we?"

   The leer that spread creases in Lord's face frightened both.





   Scene 2 further tested the hanger's acoustics with much raccous laughter
and heightened wailing.  The rusted metal walls reverberated as the sordid
action began, reached a middle crescendo and then in almost perfect harmony
with male sighs and female groans.  Those that had first planned to act in
this passion play were rudely escorted away to a shed out back where the
door containing them was locked securely by three of Lord's men.  The young
women faired less as each were lashed to the rough wood "horses" with rusty
cable.  Tender skin tautly wrapping wrists and ankles easily chafed with
bloody roughness.

   Lord considered the helpless two.  Aside from the physical disparity in
each, the girls appeared to offer individual qualities no two quarter
horses could ever hope for.  He was speaking for himself, of course, in
making that generalization.  Bestiality had never been much of a personal
turn-on.  Regardless, what lay before him presented themselves as "ponies"
of value not to be ignored..

   "You'll get your turns, don't worry, boys," he said, "But first I know
that none of you would think of first allowing your leader not to have
first crack at things." Lord's chiseled features set as he appraised the
pair.  One was shaven and the other was not, but from his point of view,
the point was moot.

   It turned out to the satisfaction of all that Lord was good for his
word. Small rough boulders had been wedged between the two women and the
wood rails so that both heads and tails were propped up.  By the end of the
afternoon, small pools of blood muddied the dusty floor and much dried or
drying semen mixed with the sweaty female nudes.

   "Thank ya, boss," Clem said in eternal gratitude as he hitched up his
chaps.  "But 'cha know, I think that long one has plastic boobs."

   "Really," Lord said distractedly as he cinched the buckle on one of his
boots.  "Then, Clem, I suppose you should verify that charge.  With at
least one of them, I mean.  Here's a carpet knife from my vest.  Don't
worry, it's got a new razor blade in it so it's sharp enough.  Cut her open
and let's have a look."

   The bewhiskered soldier gulped, but rather than risk offending his
superior, gripped the offered knife and knelt down near Candi's stretched
arms.

   "Remember now, just do her right one.  The other can remain as it is for
now."

   Susan softly sobbed.  Goth Grrrl had never been taken before so
violently, and by so many.  Long after losing her anal virginity, she had
succumbed to the multiple penetrations.  No longer was she defiant.  It no
longer was of any consequence where she was or what fate had befallen her.

   The one called Clem knelt alongside the prone figure.  Candi breathed
slowly as she too rested atop a wooden sawhorse.  She had at least been
more experienced than her more sheltered friend, Susan, and that had helped
somewhat but any advantage previously enjoyed was now about to change. 
Clem wrapped his thumb and four fingers around the bloated breast.  It felt
warm and slick and even under these conditions, it felt soft.  Imploringly,
he looked up to see Lord towering over him.

   "Go ahead boy.  Check it out.  If they are plastic, make her like she
used to be."

   Candi stirred in her bounds, but any movement on her part was way too
late.  She felt the sharp point of the razor, then the start of the
incision.  Her tussled mane flew up, eyes wild.  The animal-like shriek
made all jump.

   Inexperienced as he was in cosmetic surgery, Clem made up for that by
sheer diligence.  Using a firm grip on her pliant breast, he used the other
hand to manipulate the knife.  Sinking it deeply into the woman-flesh, he
sawed open a deep incision.  Satisfied at his trial effort, he sat back on
his haunches and looked at the gaping wound.

   "Now," Lord said slowly as he too took in the view, "Reach your figures
in there and tell us, Clem, if it's Live or Memorex."

   Candi thrashed as the cut was being made, but after Clem was done with
his tool work, she slumped gasping on the boulders.  Her wet sternum rubbed
raw over the gritty surface.

   Gulping again, as Clem had little stomach for doctor's work, he reached
his two fingers between the separated flesh.  More gore gushed out, wetting
his hand and wrist.  Finally, after some probing, he felt something smooth
inside the girl.  Gripping it, he pulled and slowly revealed to all the
bloody plastic bag of silicone.

   Lord watched with a degree of fascination thinking that this was much
better than any other hospital operating theater and he just might be
helping one of his people through a form of rough-and-tumble med school. 
Coming to his senses he grabbed a roll of duct tape and said, "Here, Clem.
Not exactly surgical sutures but tear off a strip and it should seal her up
somewhat."

   The others gathered closely about and watched as Clem's wet fingers
struggled with the tape and he applied it as tightly as he could to close
the wound.  Someone brought over a canteen.  Water from it was used to wash
off Clem, his hands and the girl.  The newly downsized tit looked wrinkled.

   From the hot shed out back where members of the original party had been
locked, they could easily hear the racket from inside the hanger.  No one
needed much of an imagination to realize why the noise was being made, but
when they heard the shrillness of Candi's caterwauling, the packed group
fell silent.

   Already much discolorization was flowing around Candi's right flank. 
Trickles of blood continued to seep from edges of the silvery duct tape,
dribbling across its shiny surface.  Matted hair fell over her sweat and
tear-stained face.  Reflexively, inner thigh muscles twitched.

   "You know boys?  I'm thinking that these two have maybe had a full day
of it.  Perhaps it's time to get both off those wooded things.  Now the one
is going to be a little lopsided, but I do suppose that's why they call it
a medical 'practice', right?" Lord cooly sipped from a sterling silver
flask of his.  "Take them both outside to where that wine-barrel half is. I
want them both to sit easy inside of it, but first Clem another chore."

   The ashen-faced de facto surgeon wearily looked up to acknowledge Lord.
"Yes...sir?"

   "The boys will sit these two in the barrel and in the meantime, you go
and gather up some of your little friends."

   Clem eagerly shook his balding head.  Collecting ants and their natural
enemies, scorpions, had been a special hobby ever since coming out to this
desert.  No pun intended, but he just wasn't cut out for surgery.  Now,
collecting critters was more like it.



   A door along a far wall opened a shaft of brilliant late-afternoon sun
that blinded all present.  Susan and Candi were dragged across the hard,
dusty desert until at last they stopped.  Both were held up and blearily
looked down at the weathered old barrel-half.  Susan started to cry out,
but then fell silent as hands lifted her off the ground.  She was placed on
her bottom on the rough bottom of the barrel and faced her legs propped up
into the air where they rested on the opposite side of the container. 
Candi was next.  She moaned as she was lifted and placed down into the
barrel.  Her thighs rubbed against Susan's and her long legs rose alongside
the other girl's shoulders.  Both women cried as they sat facing each
other.

   From the side, Clem happily approached the gathered group and the barrel
with two pairs of white legs sticking up out of it.  He carried two buckets
and in one of them could be heard the scraping sound of critters crawling
around.  He ambled over to where Lord stood and awaited his next orders.

   Lord scratched his chin as he surveyed the barrel and the two women
sitting inside of it.  "There must be a bung hole somewhere along the side
of this old thing.  Ahhh, here it is... Clem?  Give me what ants you've
found."

   The prospector hobbyist cum reluctant surgeon eagerly handed Lord his
bucket containing the angry black ants.  "Here ya go, boss."

   "Good lad," Lord said taking the bucket and carefully tipping it so that
its rim nestled next to the weathered hole on the side of the barrel
watched as the black stream of crawling legs and bodies marched into the
barrel.  "Now watch this, boys."

   Candi and Susan moaned as the two of them sat thigh to thigh.  Though
each were facing the other in the tight container, neither had strength to
raise their heads.  Until that is, each felt the tickle of the tiny bodies
swarm across their own naked flesh.  Both screamed mightily and tried to
escape from the barrel, but both were trapped in the tight confinement. 
Each tried to swipe the insects off with their hands but the volume of
insects was too great.  Soon the naked laps were covered in moving black
and that's when the biting began.

   The frightened ants attacked anything they could, even each other.  More
often than not those that could sought rescue in the dark recesses provided
by their hostesses.

   "Now, Clem," Lord said devilishly, "Your other bucket.  The one with the
scorpions."

   Clem handed over the dark red insects and watched as his leader slowly
fed the tail-barbed critters through the wooden hole.  Once they dropped
down into the interior, the claws and tails of the scorpions attacked the
swarm of ants on the darkened battlefield of human flesh.  Steep walls
precluded escape by humans or insects.

   With this new "entertainment" the two seemed to be yelling louder than
ever.

   After about ten minutes of watching the writhing scene, Lord stretched
and remarked that he was getting an appetite.  Before leaving, he said to
the others, "Get them out of there.  They've had enough for now.  Lock the
two up somewhere for the night.  Tomorrow, I'll get that movie-maker and
will see just how eager those 'Romans' are for taping the crucifixion scene
they were after.  Only one thing though, I suppose..."

   Clem looked at Lord and seeing that his leader was puzzled helpfully
offered, "What's that, boss?"

   Lord patted the stout one's shoulder, grimly smiled and then said, "Just
that instead of taping one crucifixion, I suppose that now we'll have to be
taping two."

   The others chortled and began grabbing arms to lift the two tearful
females out.




   To Be Continued