Chapter One

 

The kneeling young woman struggled desperately against the grip of the hands that held her immobile, her arms twisted behind her back with her hands and wrists locked in joint-breaking holds. She stared in horror at the glowing iron rod that swayed and danced around her breasts. She looked up at the tall, handsome woman holding the heated iron. "Please, please don't burn me. Why are you doing this? Who are you? I've never done anything to you. Let me go."

Hypatia Wolf, who was wielding the instrument of torture, smiled and said, "I'm sorry my dear, but think of it as serving a higher cause. Now smile for the camera and say hello to daddy."

The girl realised that there was a video camera in the room which, in her panic, she had not noticed before. She had the sudden hope that this was all for the benefit of the camera and that they were threatening her in order to pressure her father. Looking into the lens, she said, "Daddy, please, do whatever these people want. Don't let them hurt me."

Hypatia looked into the camera and said, "Now Daddy, we know that you are a loyal and dedicated man, and you wouldn't let threats to your darling daughter sway you from your duty, but this might be more persuasive." She touched the shimmering hot iron to the side of the girl's perfect young breast.

The sizzle of cooking flesh was clearly audible for the fraction of a second before the sound of the girl's frantic screaming and struggles filled the room

Hypatia said, "And just to prove that we are serious - "

The girl saw what was coming and shouted, "No! Not again. Momee!"

Humming happily, Hypatia pressed the red hot iron against the girl's other breast.

The girl screamed shrilly and kicked out desperately with her legs, putting the weight of her entire body on her arms. There as a sickening crack as her arm was dislocated from her shoulder. Her tortured screams barely sounded human as the woman holding her dragged her from the room.

Hypatia stepped in front of the camera and waited until the cameraman had zoomed for a close up, and said, "Now Daddy, unless you want to see your darling daughter skinned alive or her lovely virgin pussy impaled on a short wooden stake, you will follow our instructions to the letter. There will be no negotiation. If you go on TV and demand proof of life I will send you her clitoris. If you try to bring in a private hostage negotiator, we will saw off both of her arms. If the police are involved I will personally cut her womb out of her body and send it to you as a souvenir. You have one chance to get your daughter back relatively intact. Follow the instructions that accompany this DVD to the letter. You will not hear from me again unless you fail to obey, in which case your daughter will wish that she had never been born. Have a nice day."

 

***

 

News Report - On trial for the rape, torture and murder of sixteen female flight attendants, airline executive Mr Thomas Davies was acquitted by the Crown Court after the Senior Crown Prosecutor Clarence Wilkinson informed the court that a critical witness for the prosecution had been killed in a house fire, and that all the evidence linking Davies to the crimes had mysteriously gone missing.

 

***

 

Ted looked at his watch and smiled. It was time again. He went down into the basement, slide aside the rack of fake shelves, and opened the soundproof door behind it. His anticipation and sexual excitement grew as he made his way down the narrow corridor towards the glow of the secret room. He laughed softly, thinking about the newspaper and TV appeals and the frantic police searches. He had taken five young women so far, and they had not even come near to catching him. When you were rich and part of the old boy network, you were almost invulnerable. If a policeman came sniffing around, a quick phone call to his friends in the Force soon had the stupid copper slinking away, his tail between his legs. A discreet lunch with a friend and the nosy journalist suddenly lost interest. Only the stupid and the poor were ever caught and punished. His breath caught in his throat as he stepped into the underground room and saw her again. Angie was his latest acquisition. He had taken her when she was on the way home from college. She was still wearing her pink T-shirt but was naked otherwise. He had also left her socks on because they looked cute and protected her ankle from the shackle. She whimpered when she saw him and tried to crawl away, only to be brought up short by the chain. He went to a cabinet that was mounted on the wall and well out of her reach, opened it and took two items out. Apart from a tap and hose and a small chemical toilet with a roll of toilet paper, the brick and concrete room was empty. There was a drain hole in the corner to allow water and other liquids to flow away.

With his hands behind his back, Ted walked up to the cringing girl and said, "Hello Angie. It's time for our little game again. I'm going to name a part of your body, and you get to choose which of these I use on it." He held out a small kitchen knife in one hand and a flexible steel whip in the other.

Angie's bare buttocks were covered with horrific cuts and weals which had been inflicted by a trimmed bramble branch. He had removed or blunted many of the thorns, but those that were left had inflicted terrible damage. However, the alternative that he had offered had been a blow torch, so Angie had chosen the improvised cane. She had learned days ago that pleading with this monster was useless, and only brought more pain and humiliation. He had already raped her several times, both in her pussy and in her bum hole, and her sobs and tears had only made him laugh. Now she waited for him to name the spot on her body that he was going to hurt next.

Using the metal whip as a pointer, he circled the tip around her body. "And today's selection is - your pussy!" he declared, sounding like a game show host.

Angie screamed, kicking frantically at the chain, but she brought herself under control a moment later. Part of the "rules" of the insane game was that if she refused to make a choice, he would use both items on her. In addition, if she cooperated, she got to "bid" the number of blows that she would receive. However, if she bid below or equal to a target number chosen in advance by Ted, he would apply double the target amount. He was "fair" in the sense that he would write the target number on a piece of paper before hand so she would not be bidding against a moving target. She was also expected to expose the selected body part and hold still while he beat or hurt her. If she flinched or tried to dodge, he would just start all over again.

Of course, Ted knew very well which item she would choose, but it was so delicious to watch her mental agony as she forced herself to select the whip and to offer up a number of blows.

Angie wanted to plead for mercy, even though she knew that he had none. But she couldn't imagine opening her legs to let him strike her sensitive pussy with that awful looking steel rod. Surely it would kill her? She could sense that he was getting impatient, and she could not give him the chance to use both the whip and the knife on her, with only his non-existent mercy to limit the damage. With a sob of despair, she said, "I choose the whip."

Ted grinned widely. "And your bid?"

She agonised over the number. She was pretty sure that it would be at least ten, and she began to say "twelve", but something in his eyes made her pause. It was too obvious, too easy. Shaking with fear, she said, "Thirteen".

Ted laughed, genuinely pleased at her cleverness. "Very good Angie. The target was twelve." He took the scrap of paper from out of his shirt pocket with the number twelve written on it in pencil and showed it to her.

Angie didn't know whether to gasp with relief or cry at the thought of being hit on her pussy thirteen times with the metal whip. She knew that it was going to rip her delicate pussy to shreds. And yet she had no choice. He had demonstrated to her the ropes and pulleys that would hold her in any position that he fancied if she didn't go along with his sick game. The chain rattled as she slowly and reluctantly moved her feet apart. She bent her knees and spread them wide as if she was preparing to be fucked by her boyfriend Charles. Despite knowing the futility of it, she was compelled to beg. "Please mister, please don't hit me there with that. I just know it will kill me. How about this? I'll double the number of strokes if you'll use a belt or normal whip. Wouldn't that be fun? My pussy will last longer and you'll have more to enjoy. I'm very sensitive there, so a belt would hurt me terribly. Wouldn't that be nice, whipping my pussy twenty-six times?" When he didn't react, she became even more desperate. "Fifty then. How about fifty times? Isn't that awful enough? No girl could offer more."

Ted had no intention of giving in to her pleas, but he was enjoying her desperation. He let a flicker of interest show in his expression. "Well, fifty does sound tempting, but I've had my heart set on trying this metal whip on your pussy. Maybe if you could do something to make the offer a little more interesting?"

Angie frantically cast her mind around, trying to reach out for the lifeline that the man was seemingly offering. What could be worse that letting him whip her pussy fifty times? More? No, he could have just said that fifty was not enough. He wanted something else. What could make hitting her pussy more interesting? Angie was a smart girl, and when she lifted her head and stared down the length of her body at her pussy, she realised at once what he was hinting at. It felt like a huge lump of lead had landed on her chest and she had to strain to breathe. It took her two tries before she could say it. "Fi...fifty times with your belt and I ... oh god ... and I hold my p...pussy lips open for you while you do it."

Ted smiled widely. Her fear and shame was so sweet, and her desolation when he refused was going to be even better. The urge to use the knife was growing stronger and stronger, but for now he held it down. He said, "That's very tempting Angie. Perhaps if you show me what you mean, it will help to convince me?"

This was absolutely the most horrible thing that had ever happened to her in her entire life. It was worse than the beating of her bottom. That was just pain, but this ... this was making her feel like she was six inches tall and covered with slime. But a glance at the menacing looking flexible steel rod in Ted's hand gave her the impetus to go on. Her legs were already obscenely spread, so all she had to do was to reach down to her pussy and use her trembling fingers to pull her plump outer lips apart. She forced herself to say, "There, see, isn't that nice? Wouldn't you prefer to whip me like this with your belt? It would be so sexy."

Ted silently stared at her spread pussy and then with a wide, sadistic grin he said, "Well ... no. I'm still going with the steel whip."

Angie was crushed. After making her go through all that and giving her a flicker of hope, he had refused her. For most of her life, she had known that her pussy was the ultimate weapon. She knew men would do anything for her just to get a glimpse of it. But she had made the ultimate offer of her pussy to this man and he had just laughed at her. She sobbed, totally broken.

Ted let the wailing die down a bit and then said, "However, I'll make you a counter offer. Spread yourself wide for this," he swished the steel whip through the air, "and I'll reduce the number of strokes to seven. Lucky number seven. What do you say?"

Deep down, Angie knew that seven or thirteen, she was not going to be able to bear even one stroke of that horrific whip, and he was going to tie her up and beat her to a pulp. But she had to try. Feeling like she was signing her own death warrant, she gulped convulsively and said, "Okay. I'll do it."

Smiling benignly like a friendly uncle, he said, "Wonderful. Now open wide little Angie."

"Oh god," Angie moaned as she pulled her lips apart again.

Like a striking sword, the length of spring steel slashed down and struck Angie's wide open pussy with a vicious smack.

Blood spurted from between her thighs and Angie shrieked in agony, rolling onto her side and kicking wildly at the chain that held her captive.

Ted chuckled and waved the steel rod around in triumph. It was obvious that she was not going to be able or willing to spread her legs for another stroke like that, so in accordance with the rules of the game, he got to use the knife on her now, all fair and square. He was trying to decide how he should cut up Angie's pussy when a heard a soft sound behind him. He spun around and his face paled as he saw the face of death.

The assassin and vigilante killer known to the public as Deathwalk stared at the scene through armoured goggles that were set above a gleaming black kevlar face mask. The scene was adequately lit, so the goggles were not on light amplification mode. It looked like a scene straight out of hell or some Hollywood slasher film.

Ted shouted in rage and charged at her with the knife held out at the end of his arm like the point of a spear. But before the point could reach the black clad figure, his arm was knocked aside with a sharp blow that numbed his hand and made him drop the knife, while at the same instant the heel of an armoured combat booted slammed into his knee just as he was placing his weight on that leg, and smashed the joint with a crack like breaking wood. His shout changed to a high pitched scream of agony and he fell, slamming his face into the ground, propelled by a gloved hand that hooked around the back of his neck and pulled forward and down. He screamed again as the heel of the boot crashed down on his hand, smashing knuckles and finger bones.

Through a swirling fog of pain, Angie stared at this sudden development in shock. It was obviously a rescue, but there were no uniforms or shouts of "police" like on the telly. Instead, a slim, black clad figure stared down at her from behind a science fiction looking mask. A woman's voice said, "Are you here of your own free will?" and rage gave Angie the strength to shout, "Fuck no! That crazy bastard kidnapped me and was about to carve me up like a Sunday roast."

The figure nodded and turned back to Ted, who was slowly and painfully crawling towards the door, his shattered hand leaving a trail of blood on the floor. Her hand blurred and a large strange looking pistol appeared in her hand. There was a sharp snap, and something hit Ted in the middle of his back.

Ted twisted around in surprise at the painful impact, and then his face twisted in horror as a strange, numbing pain flooded his body and he flopped to the ground totally paralysed. Several seconds later he was stone dead, every involuntary muscle action completely frozen.

Deathwalk turned back to Angie and said, "I'm going to get you a blanket, some food, drink, and some pain killers. Then I'm going to leave you chained up as you are so that there will be no question in the minds of the police that you had nothing to do with this man's death. I know it will be unpleasant, but it's for your own good. When I get upstairs I'll call the emergency services. They'll take care of you. Tell them everything just the way it happened."

Shocked, Angie said, "Aren't you going to take me out of her?"

The black clad figure shook her head and replied, "I'm no superhero. I'm like the pest exterminator. I just do the killing - and my job here's done."

Ten minutes later she was gone, and Angie sat wrapped in a blanked and sipping on a packet of Ribena with a thick gauze pad sprinkled with antibiotic powder squeezed between her thighs. She could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, and she looked across the crude dungeon at Ted's stiff contorted corpse and she smiled.