Innocent Girls Next Door in Merciless Peril

[hornythumb]

My first selection of (not so) innocent young girls who need to be disciplined:

Maybe start with #2 with the pendulant look and proceed to #3, who wears a black bra under white blouse. Let #1 stew for a while in that uncomfortable bondage.

[letvor]

@letvor ~ Well, I do like a challenge. I’m not really into gore, or snuff - though a lot of excellent mainstream GIMP scenes end up that way, strangely enough. By “splatter punk” I assume you’re talking about horrific torture/gore, correct? Any more specific requests for that type of story? - like type of woman, kind of torture, just how far the gore should go - that sort of thing?

Please do not change your writing style because of my comment. I'm a bookish person and I will not feel good if you do something that will move you (as author) out of your comfort zone. So (please) discard my first comment.

This is from your first post:
"A favorite scenario for me is the young, innocent “girl next door” type + serial killer + she’s hot, she’s guilty of nothing."

I'm curious are you interested in an experiment?
Take the hottest crime from your favorite serial killer opus, and transform it into a story. Use a real data frame - imagine the juicy details.

In my opinion writing in third person is a little bit sterile for this kind of story, so I will suggest you to think about writting it in the first person.

For example:
My favorite scene would be when Ted Bundy killed two and injured two more girls in Chi Omega sorority house in 1978.
More details at:

Code: Select all

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Bundy

What do you think about something like that?

[Navyrotor]

A story for let’s or…

I studied her for weeks - Annabelle, poor, innocent Annabelle. I studied her for much longer than my last four victims. She was different, and I knew it the moment that she cast her haunting, sad green eyes on mine. Her accidental glance had lingered and I doubt she knew why… or if she even noticed that she had. But there was depth here - a depth that I had to explore to see if it reached to the hell that I would take her to. I knew in that moment that I would take her there; while knowing that my modus operandi had to shift this time. I wanted Anna to take the journey with me in a way that even I didn’t yet understand. She needed to suffer for me, in new, more horrific and prolonged ways. And somehow I knew her eyes reflected something… as if she knew that horror awaited her, but not knowing how, or when. Her eyes would eventually lead me, I knew, to the right devices and the right methods and the most effective pacing of the pain, and eventually disfigurement. I was connected to her in that instant, and she to me.

The weeks that ensued were more cautious this time, and more substantive, both in learning more about her and in prepping her new home. There was more care in concealment this time because of that initial gaze. She likely wouldn’t remember if she saw me again, but I couldn’t take that chance. Every encounter was new ground, and a new look for me… and never any eye contact. That was unfortunate, but necessary, and would prove to be especially sweet, when that gaze finally happened once again at her abduction. Meanwhile, I experienced her scent, a faint but wholly unique brand of nubile teen that I could now close my eyes to, even miles away from her, and still be aroused with beyond measure. I had even smelled her pussy on her panties, damp and warm after her time in the gym... a glorious, raw fragrance that defined her aura. The times in her apartment were almost holy, as I studied her habits and her preferences. A micro-camera helped me learn much more about her in the days and weeks that followed.

It was the chamber prep that kept me especially centered this time… holding me back from the usual rapid and violent capture that was normally driven by lust and its concomitant desire to kill. It was different this time… this was to be about her, and for her. It would involve all of her fears and provide also some elements of surprise in order to develop new ones. All of the senses would be in play for us both, including the sense of aloneness and desperation, the smells of long-abandoned industry and the gloom of light that never could inspire enough hope… some, but never enough hope for a desperate girl who had little to reach back to in her young life.

I imagined her on the cold, steel table, stretched and shaking, whimpering for her mommie as she looked at decay and filth and sheer hopelessness around her. The quiet chamber would give us our much needed privacy: for me, to be with this gloriously innocent and erotically fresh teen, and for her to focus on the ultimate horror of knowing that she deserved none of this fate, and would experience total abandonment simultaneously with relentless, ever-increasing pain. The chamber was stocked now for her, fully designed for her, and what I knew of her tender, tight and supple body. Tools, knives, electricity, prods, gags, cuffs, clamps, needles, drills, wire, rope, flame…. And of course the sound system. I would need the companionship of hard metal to serenade my work.

When the day finally arrived, Anna didn’t deviate from her routine of prepping for Friday night with her college friends. She dressed to my great satisfaction, in tight, black leather jeans, brown knee-high boots and a tight, revealing white cotton shirt knotted high at her waist. I thought she sensed me once, as I watched her dress. She paused, and cocked her head, turning around toward the camera… but not at it. Something deep within her knew. I know she knew. We were connected.

The abduction itself is clinical for me. There is too much at stake to revel in the moment and make a mistake. I do enjoy the moment later, as I will with sweet Annabelle. In the deserted garage, the only sound was her boots clicking on the cement as she strutted to her car. I smelled her before I saw her, of course, but in a flash I was directly in front of her… The inevitable freeze and the widening eyes of shock, of course - and then I saw it again: that look of resignation; Anna’s look of sadness at the corner of her pretty eyes; and then there it was; what I had known all along… the look of recognition. He had finally come for me, she was thinking. In those two seconds, I knew she knew what lay ahead. But she could not possibly know the extent of the horror, as the stun gun coursed its charge into her taut midriff and she slumped to the concrete.

I began with Annabelle as I had with previous victims, allowing her to be fully dressed as an acknowledgement of the care she had put into our fate together. She hung by her wrists, simple handcuffs securing her wrists, shoulder-width apart, to the steel piping above her. I admired her lithe form, so fresh in its innocence and so helpless in its captivity. As she awoke to her new reality, I was there for her, staring into her misty green eyes. And her initial reaction both amazed and aroused me.

“Why?” she asked simply in a croaking, faint voice. Then her face contorted and her body shook, while large tears formed quickly in pools and rolled quickly down her tender cheeks. I put my mouth to her ear and whispered: “Welcome, my darling Annabelle… You know why. I think you’ve always known why. We’re joined somehow, you and I. Much more than the others. I am going to hurt you… so very much…”

My darling Anna shuddered and shuffled the toes of her boots on the floor. We were face-to-face; my 6 feet to her 5’8” and four inch heels. I took in her fear, admiring her tender features, seeing her pert nipples protruding in the cold of the chamber, and the beautiful curve of her belly, almost concave down to her mound. I moved behind her and pulled her silky, loose, strawberry-blonde tresses, bringing her head back and her mouth to mine. I felt her slick belly, now wet with perspiration and the line of her leather jeans, my girth hardening against the curve of her hip. Reaching down, I touched my cock and brought a finger back up to her mouth, slowing inserting it, forcing her to taste my pre-cum between her full, trembling lips.

“You see what you do for me, Darling?” And you haven’t even suffered yet. It’s time for you to know the depth of my love…” I slowly undressed her, a large hunting knife slicing away the leather and linen that were in the way of my work. Revealed was my beautiful canvas, the quivering body of a sublime 20-year-old. I left on her white thigh-high stockings, and matching silk g-string panties. The latter would enter Anna’s mouth later, but they needed more semen, sweat and blood before that would happen. Anna was in the moment with me, following not just me, but my eyes, as I looked for my first instrument of torture. We were connected.

Then, suddenly, the bitch sought to destroy the moment… she flashed a look I had never seen on the sweet face I had treasured for so long… it was a look of disdain that bordered on hate, and her mouth twisted into what was almost a sneer.

No - no - no - NOOO… it was too early for that. What the fuck was she doing!!! This would ruin everything. I tried to control my impulses, but something snapped in my psyche… a memory of Jennifer flashed before me - the bitch two victims previous who had interrupted the best part of my ritual with a similar look and was shocked quickly to a too-early demise as my wrath overcame me.

My head was now somewhere else, and I reached for the huge penis gag, ramming it down Anna’s protesting throat and harshly buckling it behind her head. I almost ran to the controls for the sound system and snapped it on. The eerie, crystalline quiet of the chamber was instantly shattered as the acid rock strains of Prostitute Disfigurement thrashed to life at 150 decibels. Clutching a cordless drill from the steel cart in front of my victim, I approached her with the bit spinning, its high-pitched whine adding to the threatening lyrics of “She is not coming home tonight.”

Ramming the flashing steel gore into Anna’s armpit, I stayed close to her panicked face as the most horrific experience of her young life manifested itself suddenly and shockingly through pure, mind-bending agony. I released and stood back to watch her supine form dance in her shackles, blood spurting out of her wound and crashing to the smooth floor, slickening the only touch on reality she still had. The manacles at her wrists likely screamed in agony at the same time, as I heard them scraping on the pipes above her, matching her uncontrolled thrashing.

Anna’s pretty nostrils flared and she sputtered through her gag, her eyes wide with disbelief and abject horror. I stared deep into her soul, angry that she had destroyed the pacing of our evening, but seeing again the knowing sadness that I had fell in love with weeks before, at first glance. I tried to steady myself as the pounding bass matched my racing heart and my victim’s panicked breathing. Perhaps this was a good way to start after all… she would think already that it couldn’t get worse. But as I held her head close and inserted the drill into the other armpit, she would soon be resigned to knowing worse was always on tap.

Her body stiffened and jerked again as I came in the crack of her ass, relentlessly and forcefully, while my lovely Annabelle convulsed over me.

We were connected. Me to her; she to me.

[Navyrotor]

Er… that opening should say “letvor” - spell check hosed me, and I can’t seem to edit the post without duplicating it.

[wulf]

A story for let’s or…

I studied her for weeks
We were connected. Me to her; she to me.

I knew you had a knack for storytelling and writing, so thanks for proving me right with this awesome story. I do love the psychological elements in it that really hold your attention.
Well done Navy, and thanks for sharing.

[Navyrotor]

Ha! Thanks, Wulf. High praise from a true afficiado.

[Navyrotor]

Chelsea was his most engaged student; not to mention the hottest. The last session in his “History of the Third Reich” class had been about the torture methods of the Nazis; particularly how they broke much of the French resistance fighters, delighting most in the capture of the rare female - often their toughest prisoners. As a French exchange student, she’d been especially curious - and frankly aroused - as he warmed up to that topic. She’d stayed after class, and learned that he had a special collection of torture devices at his house near campus. She should come by this evening and get a tour…

Now, after being led down to Freidrich’s basement, he’d flicked on the harsh lighting and Chelsea suddenly found herself in a wonderland of devices and implements on metal trays, arranged about the large chamber. The metal chair had attracted her the most, and her mind wandered. He noticed her faraway look as she drew a finger across her mouth and held her chest ~ imagining who had sat there, and what they’d experienced. She was getting warm between her legs, and her complexion reddened ever so slightly. He admired her pretty face and noticed her quickened breathing.

“Oh, you like that one? Ah, oui, ma cherie… this device was especially effective… Here, sit down. No, no…. Don’t be afraid,” he said, as the first clamp secured her shaking wrist with a definitive clank. “We’ll just talk about the methods. I so appreciate how much you’re getting from my class! Let’s breathe some life into our history, shall we?”

By dawn, Chelsea had gone from a shy, giggling French school girl to a pitiful bloody, sweaty, screaming, begging mess of a naked woman, now splayed out on an iron parilla. Her body was criss-crossed with whip marks and the burns from heavy electro-torture, and her pretty face was a mess of tears and fresh bruises. Standing waist level at her head as he rammed a cattle prod into her belly, Friedrich spewed another load of semen across her pert nose, and he could barely make out her meek, muffled plea through the panel gag:

“S’il vous plais… ayez pitié monsieur… ayez pitie!”.

God, how he loved French women…

[Navyrotor]

Another couple of looks at the beautiful “Chelsea.” Anyone know her real name? I suspect she’s Russian / Eastern European.

[Navyrotor]

In the beautiful GIMP-able “Moms Next Door” category, in my opinion, is the sexy Sarah Lieving. In the Criminal Minds episode “The Internet is Forever” (S5 E22), Sarah hangs from a hook in a meat locker alongside some already-deceased victims. Too many clothes, obviously, but she’s dangling in boots (it’s a thing…), AOH and beautifully cleave-gagged. She’s a little concerned, as the perp starts to strangle her. This distress on her face and the sounds she makes are delicious.

This would be a great scene to re-do with all the correct elements!

Here’s the full clip: https://www.boundhub.com/videos/501201 ... ve-gagged/

[ZootieZootZoot]

Another couple of looks at the beautiful “Chelsea.” Anyone know her real name? I suspect she’s Russian / Eastern European.

She's listed under a bunch of different names: Alina Makarova, Alina Sweet, Alice M.

Regardless, here are her instagram and Youtube channels.