My target was a woman whose constant involvement with her large, close family made it effectively impossible to isolate her for capture. After a time, my impatience got the better of me, and I decided that if she wanted always to be with her family, who was I to object?

That Sunday, there was a family gathering at her parents' home, which happened to be in the country, nicely distanced from neighbors and obscured from main roads by trees. It also happened that they had a large in ground pool, unused since the kids moved away and therefore empty, of the type that sloped from a shallow end to a deep end.

As she was one of five thirty-something sisters (her family tended towards daughters, conveniently), besides her parents and husband and her children there'd be her four sisters and their husbands and children, and, oh, yes, her best friend who she'd known all her life, so about thirty people would be there.

So I needed some help, and recruited a couple people to help rob a bunch of rich people at a barbecue, and acquired a few fully automatic rifles with fifty round clips and lots of rope and tape. I already had a nice assortment of knives.

We waited in the woods that kept their house so nice and private (who needs neighbors knowing their business) for everyone to assemble after Sunday services, and then for lunch to be ready.

Being an orderly lot, they assembled at closely placed picnic tables in the back yard for a nice sit down lunch, all of them in a nice compact group, and as they were coming together, my confederates and I were working ourselves into a triangle surrounding them, and as the grandfather rose to say grace.

I took aim at a nice watermelon, and as he said, "for what we are about to receive, oh Lord, let us be truly thankful," I shouted, "Amen!" and squeezed off a burst which made the watermelon explode, spewing a red, pulpy, mess over a number of nice, clean shirts (it was a casual gathering, but well-dressed casual) as my confederates appeared, firing bursts in the air.

"OK, all you nice rich people," I shouted, "get on the ground, face down, hands behind your heads, and if no one moves or makes a sound, no one gets hurt. But if anyone twitches, every fucking one of you is dead. Oh, and before you fold your hands nice and neat on your heads, use them to put your purses, wallets, watches, and *ALL* your jewelry - wedding rings included, ladies, if you can't get them off we have knives that will - in an orderly pile in front of you. NOW, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!"

One hates to be crude, but the obscenity is expected of a thug.

Well, good caring people that they were, they weren't about to take a chance on anyone getting hurt, so they did as they were told, and while I kept a watch on them, firing a couple shots into the dirt near the heads of some impetuous teenagers who dared raise them.

My confederates took sacks and gathered up the piles of plunder that had been set out; a couple women carefully folded their hands to conceal the rings they couldn't bring themselves to remove. Touching. Not a problem for me, though if my confederates had noticed now it might have complicated things. Fortunately, they didn't.

"OK, rich people, now that we've got the loot," - what a cliche, but I needed to play the part for a little longer - "we're going to tie you up so no one makes any calls for a while after we leave. Everyone just cooperate and no one will get hurt." I really managed to say that without laughing, I must be getting good at this.

So now my confederates start to tie and tape our hosts. They noticed a few rings, but I just told them to tie everyone up and we'd come back for the rings, "After we get some soap to help get them off the ladies' fingers."

Everything went so nicely, and soon there were thirty bound people on the lawn, tied up by just three (well, two tying and one supervising). Still, with these weapons, thirty people could be killed in seconds, so it wasn't a bad decision to cooperate. Just a wrong one.

To make things look good, I told the others to go look through the house for "cash and carriables" - light, valuable stuff - while I kept an eye on the family. A pleasant task. Handsome bunch, so many pretty legs and shapely derrieres displayed by shorts, so many nice figures not quite concealed by loose sport shirts, so much luxurious, well-kept hair.

It'd have been so nice to see the frightened faces of all those women, but they were dutiful keeping their faces down. It'd be more fun if they were struggling with their bonds, but aside from an occasional tug or squirm, probably more a reaction to fear and frustration than anything else, they were keeping still. But that was OK. I'd have a chance to see their faces later, and there'd be plenty of struggling and squirming.

"OK, now pick 'em up and put in the pool," I said.

"What?"

"We don't want anyone to see all these people tied up on the lawn."

"Who's gonna see 'em? What's the matter with you, are you crazy?"

"Yes," I replied, fingering my rifle. (But not my gun, that would come later).

At that, my accomplices decide to humor me, and started carrying people into the pool. Having conveniently picked up their weapons while the people were being bound (since the weapons got in the way while tying and taping, and we didn't want anyone getting stupid and grabbing for a poorly held gun), it did seem to them better not to test the veracity of my self-analysis.

Finally they had all the people in the pool.

"Are we done here?"

"Let's get out of here!"

"Yes, we are, and yes, I think it's time for you to leave," I replied, and fired a burst into each of them, sending their bodies back into the pool, tumbling down the incline, the blood of their multiple wounds squirting over the nice clean outfits of the now screaming and squirming mass of helpless people in the pool.

I took a chair and some rope and walked into the pool, stepping over the women and kicking aside the men, till I found my target, and pulled her up and dragged both her and the chair to the bottom of the pool, where I tied her to the chair and sat her facing her family.

Pulling her head back by the hair, I took a long look at her frightened face, and told her, "This is all for you, darling," then strode back out of the pool to collect my belt, the one with the assorted knives and tools, and a couple clubs and the .22 automatic.

Returning, I stood before the shallow end of the pool for a long moment before slowly drawing the machete and stepping into the pool. Grasping the hair of one of my target's nephews who lay near the edge of the pool.

I lifted him into a kneeling position, and struck off his head, sending it tumbling over the bodies to come to rest a few feet from his aunt. I was hoping it would roll to her feet, but it took a funny bounce off his grandmother. I gave the torso a push with my foot so the blood pouring from his neck turned a screaming blonde cousin into a redhead.

The next order of business was to reduce the chance that anyone would interfere with my fun, so I walked around the pool, club in hand, smashing the elbows of everyone but my target, and the knees of all the males. A couple of the women seemed to be in shock, the party-poopers. Still, they could be useful.

Drawing the pistol, I emptied a full magazine into one girl's pale, still face, obliterating her fine features and spewing blood, bone, and brains all over, producing more impassioned screaming and struggling from the others. Slipping in a fresh clip, I holstered the pistol and proceeded with business.

Drawing a long, sharp knife, I walked back and forth through the family, cutting them all in various ways, usually deep cuts, but trying to avoid severing major blood vessels for the moment. It wasn't time to die yet. Well, actually it was for a couple of them whose arteries I inadvertently nicked.

I went hog wild on them, slashing everything that would pour blood so as to drain all I could from them. One of my target's nieces had such nice long hair, so I scalped her alive and walked down to put the wig on my target. By the time I get back to the top of the pool she'd shaken it off her head, but that was OK.

One of the uncles at the top of the pool was surprisingly quiet when his joints were busted and his face and chest slashed. This man seemed to be determined to show me his balls, and I figured it was good for the rest to see what guts he had, so I stuck the knife into his pants and hacked around for a time, then reached in and yanked out his testicles. They seemed ordinary enough to me.

But then, he did scream, rather disappointingly, as they were removed. Perhaps his guts would prove more interesting. Slashing his abdomen, I reached in and extracted some intestine. It looked ordinary enough to me, but I felt perhaps I needed to examine more of it.

I pulled some more out and placed it on the grass before the pool, then plunged a couple knives through it to keep it in place. Then I gave him a push and started his body rolling. I had to keep pushing to get him to the bottom, but soon he was there and I had plenty of his guts to examine; as did lot's of those people who had his intestines draped over them.

This had been a lot of fun, but the day was growing late, and it was time for the last act of this play. So as I moved among the family for the last time, taking my leave of them, I slashed the leg bonds and pulled down the pants and shorts and skirts to thrust gloved hands and latex sheaved penis (I wouldn't be so irresponsible as to practice unsafe sex) into various non-biting orifices.

Not staying to do anything, just my way of saying, "nice to get to know you," before I popped out or punctured eyes, demonstrated that digits need not remain integral, butchered breasts, salami sliced penises and clipped off clits, acts which preceded the hacking off of hands and heads and sometimes the extraction of hearts.

By the time I was done, I was covered head to toe in blood. What blood wasn't on me had been rolling downhill (along with some heads and toes and some other stuff that rolls downhill), so my target's high-heeled sandals were now soaking in a deepening pool of blood. Not that she noticed just then, no more than she was aware of the vomit on her peach blouse.

I pulled back her head and looked at her tear-stained, deathly pale face. Getting some color in her cheeks was easy enough, I had plenty on my hands just then and easily smeared some on her face.

Waking her up was a little harder, but slapping her face was fun, and I'd brought smelling salts for such a likelihood. When she woke up she started to cry again, which was nice. I held her head back by her hair and brought my blood-soaked visage close to her pale, pretty face and stared down at her and watched her cry for a few minutes.

Yes, that was delightful, but I hadn't world enough or time enough to enjoy it as I wished I could. I needed to move on, so I kissed her face a few times, and returned to the program.

Ripping open her blouse, and cutting off her bra, I grabbed her white breasts in my bloody hands and squeezed and fondled them, then cut her free of the chair and pushed her to her knees in the blood puddle, grabbing her bound hands and levering them upwards to force her face into the blood before I pulled down her white slacks and forced myself into her anus. Her scream reassured me that as traumatized as she was she could still feel pain.

So when I cut her legs loose and spread them and thrust into her vagina and reminded her that I'd been in the rectums and, where applicable, vaginas of every man, woman, girl, and boy at this party (though not everyone that I'd known had known it), and told her how I wished her parents had owned a dog, she was able to understand the horror of it, and her tears changed to shrieks and sobs.

For a few moments I couldn't control her, maddened as she was, but some kidney punches slowed her down enough for me to tape her legs and then hogtie her, and then kneel astride her chest, her dark hair in the blood, parts of it floating in the deepening pool, as I used one hand to keep her head in place with a special fork I'd brought, and the other to masturbate myself to a massive ejaculation (which didn't take long, considering the stimulus I'd had), and got cum all over her face, then spread it around with my fingers, being sure to get some over her eyes and lips and under her nose.

Then I turned her over, leaving her hogtied on her stomach in a blood pool, and after shooting her through the balls of her raised feet with the .22 and retrieving a rifle to fire a single round through both of her knees, I piled corpses over her to be certain she couldn't squirm away from where I'd positioned her, and left her to wait till shock and blood loss and simple exhaustion brought her face down into the dark pool.

When I came back from washing myself and cleaning up my tools in the parents spacious bathroom and burning my clothes in their barbecue pit and changing to a clean set I'd brought, I helped myself to a fine lunch that had gone untouched. I wasn't worried about anyone coming along; no one was left. I took a plate of ribs and sat by the pool munching and watching her face hang motionless till I was sure she was gone.

Then I wiped everything I might have touched without gloves, tossed every thing from our bags of spoils save the cash (I certainly wasn't going to try to pawn anything from this job).

There wasn't a lot of cash, but there was enough to reimburse me for the rope and tape and the black market weapons I'd bought for this job and would be leaving behind. The weapons might have been traceable, but while I didn't know how far they could be traced, I was confident that the only link to me wouldn't be found till deer season started and the hunters spread out in the woods.

For me, of course, dear hunting season is year around, and the next day the hunt would begin again.

END