Message-ID: <19184eli$9901220442@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year99/19184.txt> From: Shalon Wood <dstar@pele.ml.org> Subject: [Story] Revenge (nc, blood, magick, semi-snuff, revenge, tg, torture) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <m1pv8d6v3m.fsf@pele.ml.org> DISCLAIMER I don't know where this story's coming from. I usually can't even read non-con stuff, much less write it. I guess I'll just have to use Mary 'Pass me another elf, this one's split' Gentle's excuse -- 'A momentary abberation that lasted several months', although I don't know how long htis one will last. This is chapter one of a story that's in my head and won't go away. This chapter is mostly setup; the real story will begin in chapter two, with John as Tom and Marie's little femslave. If you don't like nc stuff, you don't want to read this. If you don't like torture, you don't want to read this. Hell, you don't want to read this period. I didn't like to *write* it particularly. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! *************************************************************************** "Revenge" Chapter One Tom Peterson stopped at the entrance to his home, frowning. Why was the door standing open? Setting his briefcase down, he pushed it open enough to slip inside. What he heard froze him in his tracks. "Yeah, bitch, suck it good. Suck it good and maybe I won't hurt you too much. I'm gonna fuck you, you know. I'm going to fuck you up the ass. You're going to bleed, bitch, and squeal like a pig. An' I'm gonna enjoy it." Shit, Tom thought to himself. I don't believe this is happening. He quietly moved towards the bedroom. Why hasn't Marie stopped him yet? As he got close to the door, he stopped, then began inching forward. As soon as he had a clear view, he cleared his throat. "Ahem." The man spun half way around, then crumpled to the floor under both his and his wife's mental blows. *** As Tom finished arranging the man inside the circle, he asked his wife the question that had been on his mind since he first stepped in the door. "So why didn't you just stop him as soon as he tried something?" "I tried. But he was so focused, so full of lust and anger, that I couldn't touch him. His single-mindedness worked as well as a shielding spell." Tom nodded. "And when I cleared my throat, something he was totally unprepared for --" "It broke his concentration, and either of us could have taken him. Exactly." Tom grinned nastily at his wife. "Well, he'll soon learn that this was a mistake." The redhead nodded, but didn't return his grin. "He saw Nat's picture on the wall, Tom. He threatened to make me call her and have her come over. I want his balls." Tom stopped what he was doing. "What? Oh, no, you can't have them, I'm afraid. I've got. . . another use for them." He told her what he had in mind, and by the time he was finished she was grinning along with him. Oddly enough, neither grin was very friendly. . . . *** John opened his eyes. God, his head hurt. What had happened? Where was he? Then he remembered the bedroom, the unexpected sound behind him, and a flash of pain. A stun-gun. Shit. The guy got hom early and had a stun gun. He thought for a moment that he was lucky it wasn't a real gun, until he realized he was tied down. He had a sudden sinking feeling he was worse off than if it had been. "I know you are awake," a woman's voice said. "Don't bother pretending." "What are you doing? Let me go, dammit. I got rights. I know it. You can't keep me here--" Sudden crushing pain to his balls silenced him. "I can do whatever the hell I want, asshole. You weren't exactly concerned about my rights, now were you?" He felt a sudden streak of pain down the crease of his crotch, and a knife blade, slightly bloody, entered his field of vision. "One more sound and I'll cut your fucking dick off and gag you with it." He nodded to show he understood. Shit, this woman was crazy. And pissed at him. . . . He tested his bonds, but they were too tight for him to even bend his knees or elbows. "I'm ready, my love," said a man's voice. "Are you?" "Oh, yes. Just explaining a few things to him, like he's going to keep his mouth shut." "Well, for now anyway. I have some. . . plans for that mouth." The man chuckled, and John nearly pissed himself. He was slowly beginning to realize just how much trouble he was in. He heard a squeaking noise, as of wheels that needed oiling, and a mirror was moved into place above him. He could see the line where the knife had cut him. . . quite deeply, he realized. He was bleeding quite badly. The woman reached out and brushed his dick. "Like that?" she asked. "Better enjoy it. It's the last time you'll ever feel it." She began to stroke him, slowly, trying to arouse him. She leaned over, and he saw that she ws naked. Her large breasts pressed against him as she trailed her tongue along his neck, hre breath warm in his ear. "We're going to take your manhood away from you. . . forever. And I'm going to cum while we do it. So will you. . . ." Despite her words, and the fear he felt, his cock began to harden. Distantly, in the background, he could hear the man chanting something, but it didn't seem important. The only thing that ws important was the hand on his cock, the lips on his neck, and the voice in his ear. "Look in the mirror. Imagine the most beautiful woman in the world. . . you can see her there, can't you? Imagine her. Look at every part of her body, her ass, her cunt, her lips, her breasts. you can see them, can't you?" He could. Somewhere, some corner of his mind was screaming that something wasn't right, but he ignored it, focusing on the image of the small asian woman in the mirror, imagining her sucking on his cock. "You want her to suck your cock? She can do that. . . ." The voice crooned. "Close your eyes. . . you can still see her. . . imagine her sucking your cock as you lick her pussy. . ." The woman shifted around, so that her cunt was over his face. He could smell it. Instinctively he reached out to lick it, and as he did so he felt her take his cock in her mouth. Somehow he could still hear her voice. "You want to cum, don't you? You want to fill my mouth with your cum. . ." And he did. . . he felt it rising, felt it traveling up his cock. . . and just as it reached the end he heard, "NO!" He whimpered, as something stopped his cum in his cock. It hurt, but he was still coming, pressure building up inside painfully. The woman above him shuddered as she came on his face, and he screamed in pain as fire lanced through his balls. She got off of him, and in the mirror he saw his balls. . . in her hand. She'd cut them off! She grabbed his jaw and forced it open, pushing one inside. "Here. Don't spit it out." He tried, but couldn't. His mouth wouldn't obey. He felt like he was wrapped in cotton, even the pain between his legs distant. He smelled some kind of smoke, and the tip of his cock burned; looking in the mirror he saw that it was pressed up against a red hot coal. "Ok, you can come now," he heard, and he did, again, this time the cum spurted out painfully onto the coal, where it hissed. Some noises from behind him drew his attention, a clinking sound. Then the man walked up to him. "Open your mouth." John did so, unable to resist. The man poured something in his mouth, then took the coal and placed it on top. Despite the pain, John couldn't move, couldn't do anything to relieve the burning. Both the man and the woman were chanting now, and he felt the mixture in his mouth begin to heat up. Then he felt a tingling, and the heat began to spread outward from his mouth, and slowly there seemed to be less and less in his mouth, until it was empty, and his entire body felt like it was on fire. The chanting rose to a peak, and a flash of cold swept over his body. Suddenly he didn't hurt anymore. . . and the mirror showed him whole and intact between his legs. Was I hallucinating? John thought. Then the woman caught his eye. She was holding a small scrap of skin. "You weren't hallucinating," she said. "We just don't want the autopsy to find anything unusual." The autopsy? Oh shit -- they were going to kill him. "Yes, we are," said the man. "But don't worry, you'll still be alive. Or, rather, you'll be alive again in a few days. Now, go play in traffic. Get hit by something large, a semi or a bus." John found himself free, and he ran for the door as fast as he could. He didn't know why they didn't kill him, but he wasn't going to stick around and ask questions. He ran several blocks without stopping, until he came to a major street. Stopping to catch his breath, he noticed an oncoming semi. The man's words came back to him. "Go play in traffic. Get hit by something large, a semi or a bus." John barely had time to scream before the semi hit him. -- If breastfeeding a pig is sickening to you, what the hell are you doing on usenet? -- Aimee, on rec.music.tori-amos -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>