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Bitten

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Bitten

When he opened the door he paused for a moment, listening.  The steady mechanical sound of rhythmical pumping whispered softly in the air, punctuated only by a tiny wet squelching noise.  It reminded him of a sump pump he had once worked on, the oily cogs and gears moving as the flush of wetness moved through the pipes. 

He was mechanically minded, a bit of a handy man and his stubby fingers were nicked and scarred from years of tiny knuckle smashes, cuts, and soldering iron burns.  But they were strong hands, and sensitive too, and he enjoyed building things.  He had constructed this very house, even renting the necessary equipment to dig out the foundation slab before supervising the crew that came out and poured the concrete.  Occasionally he had hired a spare hand out at the day laborer post to help him raise walls, or roof it.  He had installed the plumbing and wired the electricity himself.  A well driven deep into the ground provided water, and the septic tank handled sewage.  Electricity was provided by a combination of two wind turbines and a gasoline generator.  He had plans one day to install solar panels, but they were expensive and he hadn’t been able to afford them just yet.

He was relatively short, not much over five feet, but he was stocky and built like a rock.  There wasn’t much flab on him either.  He was muscular and wide and it showed.  He favored blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and heavy leather work boots.  His tanned leather belt was scratched and worn, but terribly solid.  Outdoors he always wore baseball caps, but inside, his curly brown and gray hair stayed close to his scalp.

He flicked on the light.  The room was just as he left it.  The walls were white washed and very clean.  A series of florescent lights illuminated the floor.  A large cage stood in the corner.  And in the very center of the room was a structure he had built and designed himself. 

It was made of steel pipe and stood over six feet tall.  A tall center brace ran the length of the structure, like a spine, and a number of cross beams, each jointed at numerous spots, stuck out like ribs or arms, each adjustable.  It looked like some sort of alien interrogation device.  At the end of each arm were attachments.  Usually just a welded iron ring or pressure clamp, but the versatility of the design was obvious.  Its shape could be changed and it could serve a lot of purposes.

But as amazing as the structure was, Barney didn’t look at it.  He was all too familiar with the cold steel lines, the various pins and clamps that held it together.  He was much more interested in the young girl that hung from it.  Her head was down, the soft brown hair concealing her face and Barney wondered if she was asleep.  He tried to imagine what it had been like for her, trying to sleep like that.  Her arms were pulled up over her head, each wrist attached to the structure tightly enough that there was very little room for movement.  Her legs were also drawn out, stretched wide apart, her ankles bound in leather similar to the straps around her wrists.  Two more of the steel pipe arms stuck out beneath her bottom, just under her thighs, supporting her weight.

Barney knelt down and checked the motor.  It was a simple electric model, running at slow speed.  The shaft turned a wheel attached to a simple rod, which in turn connected to another shaft at a ball joint.  This caused the shaft to move up and down approximately six inches, which was the length of the rubber dildo embedded in the young girl’s sex.

Barney had installed a self lubricator in the dildo and the thin clear tubing ran up along the shaft.  Every sixty or so thrusts, the dildo squirted about a teaspoons worth of grapeseed oil up into her well.  Barney had figured it would be a good idea, especially considering how long she had been on the machine. 

“Holly,” he said softly, laying one hand on the girl’s shoulder.  “You awake?”  There wasn’t a response.  He leaned down and lifted her hair.  Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing.  He shook her a little and watched as her head came up.

The noise that came from her mouth was unintelligible and she blinked at him with sleepy eyes.  He wondered how long ago she had fallen asleep.  She licked her lips and tried to speak, but her voice cracked.  He smiled at her and quickly stepped over to a table that stood along one side.  He ignored most of the objects on the table, and instead grabbed a paper cup and quickly filled it with water from a water jug.

“Here you go,” he said, and held up the cup to her lips.  She drank greedily, sucking down every drop.  “More?” he asked and she nodded her head.  Evidently she was ignoring the repeating thrusts of the dildo.  But Barney expected that.

He refilled the cup and brought it back to her.  She drank it down and then turned away from him.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Holly asked.  Her voice was hollow and tired.  The fear and anger had disappeared the previous week.

Barney blinked.  “You want me to be mean to you?”

“Why won’t you just let me go?” 

He shook his head sadly.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t do that.  Can we talk about something else?”

“You hurt me.” 

Barney sighed.  He raised a finger and touched her breast.  The marks from their previous breast session were fading, though he could still feel the textural difference in her skin.  She had screamed so much.  By the time they were done she had lost her voice. 

“I know.  You handled it well.” Barney smiled at her.

Holly glared at him, a spark of anger in her eyes.  “I hate you!” For a second Barney thought she was going to spit again, but she didn’t.  Evidently that lesson had been learned well.  His right hand went down to her bottom and touched her rear end.  Yes, the partially healed welts from the spitting lesson felt nice. She winced as he touched her, unable to move away.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Barney sighed.  It was a chore, and one he didn’t relish, but it was necessary.  He looked up at her.  “Number two?”

She nodded, eyes on the floor.  It was humiliating.  Barney went back to the table, grabbed a bucket lined with plastic and held it under Holly.  He turned away as she let loose.  A few baby wipes got her cleaned up and they went into the bucket as well.  It wasn’t something he liked, but she was his responsibility now and he had to take care of her since she wasn’t able to take care of herself. 

He didn’t worry about her having to urinate.  Before he had mounted her in this position he had catheterized her.  It probably was unpleasant, but it had been necessary.  He kept her well hydrated, even if he had cut back on her food during the last three days.

“So how does your pussy feel?” he asked.  He was truly interested.  Her petals were bright red and the whole area appeared swollen.  He bent down and took a closer look, watching as the dildo went in and out.

“How do you think?  I’ve been fucked non-stop for three days!” Holly said, the anger giving her words force.  He gave her a warning glance and she immediately flinched, her anger dying away. 

He sighed.  “I know it’s been tough for you, but really it had to be done.  Your breasts needed time to recover.”

Holly’s eyes widened.  “Recover?” she whispered.

Barney nodded.  “I know I’ve sort of focused on your pussy these last few days, and truly you’ve done a great job.  We’re there a lot of orgasms?” 

She nodded, silently, still worrying about what Barney meant.

“Well that’s good.  I wanted you to have some pleasure from this.  I’ll have you know that you’ve made a world record. The camera got it.  Maybe one day after I die they’ll write about you in a book somewhere.”  He grinned.  “Not many girls can say they had non-stop sex for thirty six hours.”  He reached up and squeezed her breasts, kneading them.  He could feel the abraded spots on her skin, as she winced when he thumbed her nipples.  There were fading bruises as well, deep purple and blue ones.

“But there is good news, Holly!” he said brightly, with a smile.  “You’re done on the fucking machine!  At least for today.  We’ve got something else to do!”

Holly didn’t respond.  Ending something meant starting something, and she had learned quickly that a new “experiment” as Barney liked to call them, wasn’t something to look forward too.

He went back to the table, ignoring the clamps and whips and even the cattle prod.  He grabbed hold of her black leather collar and returned to the bound girl.  It went around her neck and several metal rings dangled down, touching her shoulders and back.  Then he released her right hand.  She groaned as he moved it, obviously stiff.  He had worked her muscles every few hours during her latest ordeal, but she still was in a bit of pain.  She didn’t fight him.  Part of that was her lack of strength.  Part of it was knowing what could happen if she did fight him.  She didn’t want to be put back in the cage.

He attached her wrist to her collar.  The small metal link he used didn’t clip, it screwed tight, so that in her position she would have no chance to free her own wrist.  He moved around to her other side and repeated the process.  Now both hands were touching her ears, held in place with leather and steel.  Then Barney removed the catheter.  She hissed as it came out and he dabbed at her urethra with another baby wipe.  He tossed the catheter away and then began unlocking her ankles from the structure.  He didn’t free both ankles at once.  A jointed spreader bar of Barney’s own design was attached to he cuffs on her ankles.  It enabled her to walk freely, but a quick slide of the locking mechanism would force her to spread her legs, rendering movement impossible.  Trying to run or even kick would also lock the bar.  Holly had already learned that as well.

He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the structure.  She groaned as he touched her, but didn’t fight him.  He had to hold her up as she put her weight on her legs. It was difficult to stand and he almost had to carry her out of the room.

They went to the kitchen, one little step at a time.  Slowly, she recovered not only her strength, but her balance as well, so that by the time they got to the table she was handling her own weight and Barney only needed to steady her.  He sat her down on one of the kitchen chairs and she winced. 

“You okay?” he asked, still concerned.

She looked at him in disbelief.  “Why do you keep asking me that?  No. I’m not okay.  I want you to let me go!”

Barney straightened and sighed.  “So…. What do you want for breakfast?  Sausage and eggs?  Toast?  I’ve got some cereal, or if you want I can make pancakes.”

The poor girl’s eyes widened and she swallowed.  Her stomach was nothing but a gaping hole needing to be filled and her mouth watered.  “Pancakes?” she asked timidly.  “And some sausage?”

Barney laughed and immediately started making breakfast. 

“What do you like to do for fun, Holly?” he asked as he poured the batter onto the griddle.

Holly gave him another look, but then sighed.  “I dance,” she said, a bit sullenly.

His eyes widened.  “Really?  I thought dancers were more…” he waved his hand in a wavy fashion.  “Willowy.”  He turned back to the pancakes browning on the griddle. 

Holly’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean?  I’m not willowy?”

Barney let out a snort.  “You have huge breasts.  Dancers don’t have huge breasts.”

Despite the fact her wrists were connected to her neck, she managed to bring her elbows in and cover her bosom.  Her face flushed slightly and she turned away.

Barney noticed.  “Oh, hey.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you.  You’ve got incredible breasts.  It’s one of the reasons I picked you.  Besides, some dancers think having big breasts are an asset.  Of course, they pole dance, and you’re too young for that, aren’t you?”  He flipped one of the pancakes onto a plate.  A piece of sizzling sausage came next and he added it next to the flapjack.  A little bit of real maple syrup topped it off and he brought it over to the table and set it down in front of her. 

“Promise to be good?” he asked.  She nodded emphatically.  Barney smiled.  “Good.  Then I won’t have to use the shocker.  But remember, if you do something bad…” his voice trailed off.  There was no menacing tone, just a pleasant reminder. Holly shuddered. She remembered the shocker.  The first day he had used it on her repeatedly every time she had tried to escape.

“I’ll be good,” she said, cowed by the memory.

Barney reached up to her neck and patiently unscrewed the carabineer that held her right wrist to the collar.  Once the cuff was freed he stepped away and Holly immediately grabbed the fork.  She was starving and ate ravenously, finishing up the one pancake in seconds.  The sausage link went next and she looked up, hopeful for more.  Barney nodded and grinned, taking the plate back to the griddle where another pancake lay waiting.

“Slow down, okay?” Barney said as he put another pancake on the plate.  “It’s been three days since you’ve had solid food and your body can’t really handle it yet.”  He returned to the table and set the plate down in front of her.  “I want you take one bite at a time and put the fork down between bites.”

She shot him a hostile glance and he frowned.  Then Barney sighed and opened one of the drawers in the kitchen.  Her eyes widened as he extracted a black binder clamp, one meant to hold hundreds of papers together.   She trembled.  He had used it on her before.  She still had the bruises.

“Please!  I’m sorry! One bite at a time!” she said with rising concern.  He put the binder clip on the table in front of her. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” He nodded at the clip.  “You know the alternative.”

Holly started to eat, forcing herself to put the fork down between every bite.  Barney sat there and watched.

Halfway through the pancake she looked up at him.  His hands were folded together and he sat peacefully and patiently, smiling as he watched her eat.  But she knew he was a monster.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked again. 

“I need to,” Barney replied.  She picked her fork up and took another bite.

“You need to torture me?” she asked with her mouth full of pancake.

“Yes,” he said simply, nodding his head.

“Why me, why not someone else?”

He chuckled.  “Because you’re perfect.”

Holly looked at him sourly, and then concentrated on her food.  After a third helping of pancake and sausage, she felt stuffed.  He took the plates to the sink, including the fork, and then came back over and reattached her wrist to her neck.

“Can I have a shower?” she asked.

Barney shook his head.  “Maybe later.  We’ve got something to do first.”

Holly’s eyes widened.  She dreaded practically everything they “had to do”. 

“What?” she asked, trembling. 

He smiled again.  “You’ll see.”  Barney took her by the arm and began escorting her through the house.  She had seen most of the place already, despite the fact that he kept her locked up in what she mentally had labeled “the dungeon”.  She ate her meals in the kitchen.  He had a special bathroom, complete with manacles and chains so that she could shower.  So far she had seen no telephones, no television, not even a radio.  He also left her alone, bound on the restraint structure in the dungeon for long periods of time and she suspected he went to work during those moments of solitary torment.  She hated them. 

But today he walked her down a different hallway and to her surprise he took her outside.  She blinked in the sunlight and took in their surroundings.  She had never seen them before.  The house was in a clearing of oak and pine, with a large butte rising behind them.  A metal garage stood a few meters away, and a white SUV was parked between the garage and the house.  It was warm outside and she turned her face toward the sun, enjoying the fresh air, the balmy breeze, and the illusion of freedom.  They headed toward the garage.

First he produced a key to unlock it.  The large door slid upward with just a single pull and Holly found herself looking into a machine shop.  Hundreds of tools and implements that she didn’t recognize hung in neatly ordered rows along the walls over a massive work bench.  There were several tables here and there around the room, each with a half-completed project carefully laid out.  Her eyes took in the rough metal blanks, the somewhat assembled devices, and she recognized a few parts here or there.  After you’ve been fucked for thirty six hours straight, it’s easy to recognize dildos, even ones made of metal.

She looked at Barney fearfully.  He took her arm and walked her over to one of the long tables.  It had been cleared off and was completely empty. 

“I’m going to lift you up and put you on the table, okay?  On your stomach,” Barney told her.  Before she could object or acquiesce, he grabbed her, lifted her up, and set her back down on the wooden slab.  It was cool on her skin, but not terribly uncomfortable.  She turned her head, trying to find an acceptable position for both her nose and wrists.  Then Barney came back to the table with a small cushion.  He pushed it under her head.  Holly didn’t say anything.  It was the small kindnesses that made the horrible things he did to her even more agonizing.

She heard the squeal of rubber tires on the epoxy painted concrete and she watched as Barney rolled a machine over toward her table.  It was vaguely shaped like a small hand operated fork lift, almost a dolly, but instead of two tines sticking out toward the front to pick up pallets, there was a single post with three cross bars mounted to the machine.  The post was quite as long as Holly was tall, but that didn’t stop Barney from moving the lift behind her, at the end of the table.  The pole was already elevated so that it was just a little higher than the table.  She craned her neck to see what he was doing, but the position made it practically impossible.  With her hands secured to her neck, she couldn’t twist enough.  She heard clinking sounds and then she felt his hands on her ankle.  He was undoing the shackle bar that kept her from running.

“What are you doing to me?” Holly asked.

Barney ran a finger down the sole of her foot, causing her to jerk slightly.  “Just getting you ready to attach to the Lifter.”

“The Lifter?” she asked.  “Is it going to hurt me?”  The fear in her voice was clearly audible.

Barney stopped for a moment.  “The Lifter?  Oh no.  The lifter won’t hurt you at all.”  Holly’s other ankle was freed moments later.  Barney put the spreader bar on his workbench, making sure it was aligned properly with the edge.  He returned to Holly, grabbed both ankles, and pulled her back toward the Lifter.  Holly helped, but only because she wanted to keep herself form getting a friction burn on the table.  She had to scooch, keeping her elbows down, preventing half her body weight from resting on her breasts.

Holly felt another spasm of fear rush through her.  If Barney was staying true to form, whatever happened next would be focused on her breasts.  That’s what he had been doing so far.  Alternating.  The first night he had raped her, bound her to his bed spread-eagled.  She had screamed and cried, but she wished that could happen again.  Not because it had been pleasant.  It hadn’t been, but because of all the things he had done to her since, it had been the easiest to bear, the softest.  The strange implements he had used on her, the forced cumming.  It had hurt, yes, but in a way that had not really been repeated since.

Barney grabbed her ankle and bent her knee.  She could feel the metal cross bar tucked into the joint and then her other leg followed the first.  When she tried to straighten her legs, she found them bound to the Lifter’s main pole, keeping her legs bent.  The next thing Barney did was release her left wrist from her neck collar.  Carefully, he bent it around and then into position behind her back.  She could feel another crossbar against her upper arm, almost at the shoulder, and it rolled her spine slightly.  In seconds her wrist was held captive again, locked into place on the main pole.  Her other arm followed with Barney manipulating the crossbar somehow to enable her to get her arm up and behind.  She kept her head down despite the semi-hogtied position she was now in.

“Okay, this is going to be a bit rough for a moment or two.  I would have positioned the belts first, but I figured that getting you set up would be problematic.  You’ve cooperated a lot better than I thought you would.  I hate trying to anticipate what people will do.  It’s not my forte.”  Barney said apologetically.  Holly turned to look at him, but he stepped out of view.

She heard a hiss and then suddenly it felt as if her arms were going to be ripped out of their sockets.  Her body rose an inch, then two inches off the table.  Moments later her breasts dangled beneath her, swaying as the Lifter pulled her upward into the air. 

Barney moved quickly.  A three inch wide leather belt was quickly wrapped around her torso, right under her breasts.  When he buckled it tight, it took much of the strain off her shoulders.  A second belt went around her thighs, keeping her legs tightly bound to the Lifter’s main pole.  She wriggled, finding that she had almost no room to maneuver.  She squealed for a moment as the Lifter’s main pole tilted upward slightly and she slid down the pole just for a second until her arms caught on the crossbeam.  It increased the pressure.  The belts took most of her weight.  Then the whole machine turned around and Holly cried out in surprise as they suddenly left the garage. 

Barney rolled the Lifter out onto the gravel drive and they proceeded a short distance until they got to the edge of the house.  Holly watched as they rounded a corner and then began following a green garden hose connected to what appeared to be a well.  She could also see two wind turbines lazily spinning in the soft breeze.  The grass didn’t seem to be a difficulty for the Lifter’s wheels and Barney pushed the device along for another minute or too before stopping at a small bare spot in the grass.  Several small mounds of dirt dotted the grass free patch that seemed to be the transition between forest and yard.  Holly saw the garden hose, its end covered in a pressure sprayer and she wondered if Barney’s intention was to spray cold water at her.

When he came into view, he was carrying a small bag.  He opened it and extracted a jar with a gold lid.  There wasn’t a label, but inside was a blue substance that looked decidedly unpleasant.

“What’s that stuff?” Holly asked, flinching away as Barney unscrewed the lid.  He extracted a small paint brush from his bag and dipped it into the gel.  It clung to the brush and he began to dab it against the base of her left breast, working it around in a one inch ring.  It sort of tickled and Holly struggled not to laugh.  Barney continued to coat, but he didn’t paint her entire breast.  He left the majority of her skin, not to mention her nipple, free of the gel.  Soon he moved to the other breast, leaving two blue rings encircling each swaying tit.  Through the entire process he hadn’t spoken. 

Finally he stepped back, straightening his back.  The Lifter hadn’t raised her up high enough to give him easy access, but he seemed comfortable enough.  He picked up a nearby stick and held it right under her nose.  It was an inch or so thick and the bark had been peeled away, leaving the white tree flesh underneath.  He took the brush and another daub of blue gel and smeared it in a ring about ten inches from the base of the stick.

“I’m showing you this so that you won’t be scared, okay?” Barney said.  That immediately scared her.  He brought the stick closer so she could see the gel.  “It took me about a week and a half to get this stuff right.  It won’t hurt you. It’s there to protect you.”

“Protect me?  Protect me from what?” Holly’s voice came out in a squeak.

Barney suddenly swung the stick and plunged it about four inches deep into the nearest little pile of dirt.

Holly watched in horror as the mound erupted.  Thousands of tiny fire ants swarmed out of the damaged hive, spreading out in a maddened wave.  They swarmed up the stick until they reached the blue gel.  There they stopped, unable or unwilling to cross the thick mucus like substance.  Realization struck Holly as she understood what Barney intended to do.  He grabbed the top of the stick and dragged it through the mound, opening the entire thing to the air.  Millions more of the tiny insects emerged, furious and teeming.

“NO!!! NO!! YOU CAN’T!” she screamed.  She thrashed against her bonds but the Lifter held her immobile, only gently rocking.  Her breasts swayed back and forth.  “PLEASE BARNEY NO! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU CAN’T!  I’LL FUCK YOU! I’LL DO ANYTHING PLEASE NOOOOOOOO!”

Barney moved around to the rear and there was a sudden hiss as the Lifter’s hydraulic system began to lower her downward.  Holly continued her screams, the pitch and timbre rising in intensity and desperation as the main pole lowered.  She began bucking, trying to pull away but it was no loose.  She looked down between her breasts and saw that only inches remained between her and the fire ant infested soil.  Then the lifter stopped.  Her cries subsided and she began sobbing, the relief only partially able to overcome her fear.  Barney stepped back around toward her, making sure not to step in the ant hill.

“I forgot about your hair,” he whispered.  He produced a rubber band and quickly pulled her long locks back.  Holly blinked, realizing that her hair had been about to provide the necessary path for the ants to reach her.  She shivered as he secured it behind her neck, but then realized that she hadn’t escaped her fate.  Barney disappeared back to the rear of the lifter and Holly screamed again as the last few inches between the tips of her breasts and the ant hill disappeared.

Her screams of fear were nothing compared to her cries of agony.  She didn’t feel the ants crawl up onto her breasts.  She saw them, even while letting out the most intense shrieks of her life.  Pain suddenly exploded across her chest, blossoming in horrific heat as the fire ants bit her.  It was as if her breasts had been dipped in molten lava.  Her body shook, every part, as she screamed, shaking in fear and agony.   Her movements caused her breasts too sway back and forth, the nipples, already swelling and red, creating small furrows in the soft soil.   More fire ants attacked her.  She glanced down as she took a breath.  Both breasts were covered, swarming with ants, her skin not even visible.  The wash of pain had become a solid sheet of fire as the toxins injected into her skin sensitized her, burning, hurting her with intensity she had never felt before.  She screamed again and again. 

Then the Lifter hummed and she was lifted up quickly, high above the nest.  Ants still stung her, clinging to her breasts, but Barney quickly picked up the hose, pointed it at her tits, and squeezed the handle.  A stream of water impacted against her bosom, washing the ants downward and off her body.  It took only a few seconds to clear the angry insects from her skin.  Barney checked her repeatedly, making sure not a single insect remained, anywhere on her.

Holly had stopped screaming.  She lay limply in her bonds, head down, almost unconscious.  Her breasts were swollen, hot and red, and looked as if they had been baked by the hot sun for hours.  She started to shake and moan, and as Barney began rolling the Lifter back toward the garage she began sobbing.  Before the reached the garage her sobs were punctuated by pain laden cries as the after affects of the stinging surged through her nervous system. 

She passed out from the pain when Barney lowered her down onto the table in the garage.  With all her weight on her breasts, it was too much.  Barney quickly released her from the Lifter and then secured her wrists back to her neck collar.  He took a moment to examine her breasts.  Hundreds of little red bumps had started to blister across both mounds.  Her nipples were distorted, swollen into misshapen lumps.  Every inch of skin was red and inflamed and looked as if it had been dipped in boiling water.  Even unconscious, Holly moved, her body trying to relieve what had to be continuing pain.  Barney smiled.

He carried her into the house, not bothering with the spreader bar.  It wasn’t until he had her back in “the dungeon” and strapped to his working rack, that she began to rouse.  It started with sobs but quickly turned to screams as the rope and leather restraints on her wrists kept her arms above her head.  Her ankle cuffs were connected at the base of the rack to a wooden brace, stretching her tight.  Barney had even turned the capstan twice, just to make sure that she was pulled taut.

The screaming didn’t bother him.  He went to his bench and pulled out a bottle.  He poured a generous amount into his hands and then went to work.  His first touch brought a fresh scream of pain from the girl, but he proceeded, working firmly, massaging the oil into her skin.  Minutes passed and her screams became hoarse sobs as he worked the neutralizing oil into her flesh.  Finally she was only whimpering, her chest still heaving as she recovered.  It still burned.  It still hurt.  Her breasts looked like raw meat, still covered in welts.

Barney wiped away the oil and the applied a second dose.  Then a third.  Each time Holly felt a little more relief.  Finally she fell asleep, whimpering in the darkness of her torment.

Barney wiped his hands and then turned back to look at the girl.  With a slight chuckle he shook his head and grinned.  He turned and left the room.  She would need a while to recover.  A day or two, maybe more.  Then she would be ready.

“And if she thought ants hurt, just wait till she feels what’s going to happen to her pussy next!”

 

The End

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