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From: worthlesspainslut@hotmail.com (e. wolf)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 16 Dec 2001 22:10:06 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Jazz's Toys Part Eight: Jazz Goes Camping (M/f n/c rape torture kidnap)
Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 00:10:06 -0500
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Disclaimer: Don't read this if you're not s'posed to. Anyone who does
any of the things described in this story is a sick, horrible person
and needs to be put in jail. This story is not for underage or
mentally unstable people, or for the  easily offended.

Jazz's Toys Part Eight: Jazz Goes Camping				
M/f n/c rape torture kidnap)
by e. wolf

Jazz finished unloading the camping gear from the back of his car.
He'd met a girl in a dingy little town about half a day's drive from
here and decided to take her camping with him. Of course, she hadn't
agreed to this, but that was half the fun.
They'd met in the diner where she worked waiting tables. She'd brought
him bacon and eggs and flirted with him - more to get a tip than
because she actually liked him, although she hadn't been phony at all.
She looked more like she belonged in a hippie commune in San Francisco
than a small-town truck stop: very Nuevo-Bohemian, bleached-blond
dreadlocks and beaded necklaces. When she got off work she'd probably
change into a T-shirt made from hemp fabric and trot off home to write
poetry or paint daisies on something.
"So, do you drive a rig?" she'd asked when she brought his breakfast.
"No, I'm on vacation," he'd told her. "Just threw my tent in the back
of the car and took off."
She'd looked at him with something like rapture.
"Oh, that's awesome!" she'd exclaimed. "I'd love to be able to do
that, just take off and go someplace."
He'd asked her why she didn't and she'd made the usual excuses: no
time, no money, lousy car that broke down all the time. Plus she was
scared to travel alone.
"You never know what kind of psychos you're going to meet out on the
road," she said.

Jazz smiled as he set up the tent, thinking of the bound girl in his
trunk. No, you never knew what kind of psychos you'd meet on the road.
Or in the parking lot of a greasy-spoon diner after your shift,
either.
She was maybe twenty-five, on the plump side but with magnificent big
tits, 40DD if they were anything, and Jazz was looking forward to
sinking his teeth into them.
Her eyes were angry as he took her out of the trunk, the friendly
sparkle long gone.
"You'll never get away with this," she told him. 
"But I already have," he said innocently. "This campsite's miles from
anywhere, and I've got enough supplies to enjoy you for a week or
more. Even longer, if I start cutting pieces off your arms and legs
and roasting a little at a time." He laughed. Not something he would
ever do, of course: he was a sadist, not a murderer. Jazz liked to
torture whole girls. Or boys, if that was all that was available to
him. But planting that seed of doubt in their mind - the idea that he
MIGHT kill them - just made them so much more pliable.

Jazz found a nice flat piece of ground outside his tent and drove a
stake deep into the ground. He pulled the girl out of the trunk and
untied her right wrist, binding it tightly to the stake. She barely
struggled, too stiff and frightened to try and make a break for it.
He took her left ankle next, stretching it as far as he could and
driving a second stake into the ground to tie her down. Two more
stakes left her spread-eagled on the ground, glaring up at him.
Jazz knelt beside the girl, then straddled her chest and looked down
at her, gripping her dreadlocks in his hands and lifting her head a
few inches so she had no choice but to look at him.
"We're gonna have some fun here, honey," he said with a grin. "Hell,
if you behave yourself you might even live through it. What's your
name?"
The question startled her. It startled Jazz, too: he didn't usually
care what his victims' names were. They were `cunt' and that was
enough for him.
"Elizabeth," she told him, her dark blue eyes watery as Jazz's cold
grey ones tore into her face.
"Well, I'm Jazz," he said with a smile. "Only you can call me `Sir.'
I'm gonna hurt you quite a lot over the next few days, Elizabeth, and
I'm going to stick my cock in every last hole in your body."
"Yes Sir," she said, her voice breaking slightly. 
Jazz looked down at her, puzzled. Usually his toys pleaded with him at
this stage: `Oh, please, I'll do anything, just don't hurt me, blah
blah blah.' This one seemed to have accepted her fate already. She
wasn't pleased about it by any means, but she wasn't trying to bargain
with him either.
Jazz squeezed his thighs together, felt the girl's soft tits
compressing beneath his muscular legs. They truly were magnificent
tits, and he could hardly wait to get his hands on them. But first, it
was getting dark and he needed to finish setting up camp. He made
quick work of gathering up some wood and building a bonfire, then
scouted out a likely-looking tree and strung a rope over a strong
horizontal limb.
"All right, Elizabeth," Jazz said, releasing her from the stakes. "I
want you to take off your clothes for me. Everything but your bra and
panties."
She stripped off her tie-dyed T-shirt and torn jeans - like he'd
thought earlier, she was a real modern-day flower child - and revealed
a pair of tight black cotton panties and a white nylon bra that
fastened with four hooks down the front.
"Very good," Jazz said, and gripped her forearm to bring her over to
the tree.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" she asked weakly.
"Well, that's a surprise," he said with a smile. "But I'll give you a
hint: I'm going to like it and you're not."
"Yes Sir."
Jazz looped each end of the rope under the girl's armpits and tied the
ends tightly behind her back, right between her shoulder blades. The
rope was strong enough to hold her weight securely, and short enough
that she was pulled up to her tip-toes, where she struggled to keep
her feet on the ground to prevent a strain on her shoulders. She could
feel the knot of the rough rope digging into her spine, but that soon
became a secondary concern.
"I'm going to have a look at your tits now," Jazz said. There wasn't
much light left, but the nearby fire cast a warm glow over everything
in its vicinity. "Why don't you undo the clasp for me?"
The way she was tied left her hands free, so she was able to unfasten
the hooks-and-eyes that constrained her mammaries. Jazz nodded
approvingly as her large tits swung free. She'd obviously put on
weight since she bought the bra, since there was a faint angled
indentation across the top of each tit that followed the line of the
bra's top seam. Her nipples were soft, wide and salmon-pink, but they
soon began to harden from the cold. Not to worry, Jazz thought, he'd
soon have those mounds nice and warmed up.
She didn't struggle as he leaned his head forward to take a mouthful
of titflesh, a big bite into the top of her left breast. He held the
soft flesh firmly between his incisors for a minute or two, gnawing
and sucking at it. He could taste the girl's sweat and just a trace of
... was it talcum powder?
When he released the mouthful there was a huge red `hickey' on the top
of her tit. He created a few more of those, nothing too painful to
begin with, just big shallow bite-marks across the surface of each
tit, breaking the blood vessels near the surface of the skin enough to
leave a spattering of dark reddish-purple bruises beginning.
Elizabeth seemed to relax under Jazz's initial treatment. If that's
all he was going to do, she thought, tie her up and suck on her tits,
well, she could probably live with that. But the odds of him only
wanting that were slim. From the dispassionate way he was handling her
this seemed like foreplay to him, and mild foreplay at that.
Sure enough, after a half hour or so of this treatment it was good and
dark, but in the firelight she could still see the evil grin on his
face as he looked her over again. She saw him balling up his fist,
even heard the swish of it coming toward her through the air, and let
out a cry as it made contact with her right breast.
"Oh! Ow, don't!" she gasped. His other fist came crashing into her
left tit, smashing it flat, and she began to cry. She tried to block
the next punch with her hands, earning herself a sore, bruised arm for
her troubles.
"Put your hands behind your head. Link your fingers," Jazz told her.
"And don't you dare move them."
He began to pummel her tits like punching bags, one and then the
other, hitting them from above, below, on the sides, and straight on,
closed-fisted and open-handed. They bobbed and shook beautifully, Jazz
thought, beating them unmercifully as the girl bawled in the quiet
night air.
"Oh, please, I can't take it anymore," she sobbed. "Oh, ow, it hurts!"
"I know it hurts," Jazz said. "That's why I'm doing it. I like hurting
you, Elizabeth."
He paused to run his hands over her abused tits, squeezing the swollen
flesh in his thick, strong fingers. He squeezed her nipples, pulled
them straight out from her body, making her totter on her tiptoes. Her
armpits were raw from the rope that ran beneath them.
"Oh, I know you're uncomfortable," he said as she whimpered with pain.
"But another couple of hours and we'll go in the tent and get some
sleep."
Another couple of hours! Elizabeth sobbed at the thought. She was
almost relieved when he pulled out a knife and began to slice off her
panties, since it meant he would be moving on to another part of her
body and leaving her breasts alone for a while.

Jazz examined the girl's cunt by the light of the fire. For such a
back-to-nature kind of girl she actually kept her bush neatly trimmed,
which pleased him. Her pussy lips protruded slightly, and he seized
them and tugged roughly.
"Spread your legs apart," he commanded.
Her bare feet struggled to find purchase on the bare ground, but with
her shoulders being tugged upward toward the thick branch that held
her upright, she was only able to spread them a few inches.
"Further, slut," Jazz barked.
"I can't," she wailed. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to but I can't!"
"Try harder," he said. "Do it now."
Elizabeth hauled herself up, using her hands to grip the ropes that
bound her to the tree and doing a sort of mid-air splits, spreading
her legs as far apart as she could.
Jazz gripped her inner lips tightly between his thumb and forefinger
and began to twist them, together, once, twice, three times around.
The girl squealed and clamped her legs together, letting go of the
rope to use her hands, trying to push Jazz away from her.
"Stop! Please, stop, that hurts!"
"Elizabeth." 
His voice was cold, commanding. He hadn't let go of her or even
relaxed his grip, but he was staring into her face with such a look
that she froze and put her hands back up behind her head.
"Yes Sir," she whispered.
"What did I tell you before?"
"I-I'm not sure, Sir."
"About hurting you."
"T-that you like h-hurting me, Sir," she sobbed.
"That's right. So am I going to stop if you tell me I'm hurting you?"
"No, you're not," she said, defeated.
"Very good. You're a clever cunt. I knew you'd figure that out. So for
now I want you to keep those legs of yours spread, and I'm gonna keep
right on twisting these pretty lips of yours. Because if you don't,
what do you think will happen?"
"You'll hurt me worse?" the girl ventured.
"Very good."
If anything he was less gentle as he went back to tugging at her cunt
lips, which made it even more difficult for her to keep her legs up
and open. She could feel his fingers prodding at her tight cunthole,
and she moaned and squirmed as he penetrated her dry opening.
"Do you like that, cunt?" Jazz asked her.
"No Sir, it hurts," she grunted. But she didn't whine or beg anymore,
and after a while Jazz tired of this game. His cock was hard and he
wanted to stick it in a hole, any hole. He'd been driving for two days
straight before he even picked the girl up, and all he wanted out of
life was a good rough fuck and a nice long nap.
He left the girl tied to the tree as he fetched a roll of duct tape
from his car. He untied the girl next and walked her to the tent. She
went willingly, somehow sensing that he was tired, thinking that maybe
he would fall asleep and she could slip away.
It wasn't to be, of course. Jazz lit a lantern that illuminated the
inside of the tent. The fire outside was dying down, and the lantern
cast long shadows over everything in the tent. Jazz spread out his
sleeping bag and told the girl to lie down.
"Since you have such trouble spreading on your own, I thought I'd give
you some help," he told her. He gripped her knees and pushed them up
toward her shoulders, wider than they could possibly have gone on
their own. She was more than bent double, her feet touching the ground
on either side of her head. Next he took her left arm and duct taped
her forearm so that it was pressed against the underside of her calf,
the back of her elbow nesting in the back of her knee, effectively
pinning her leg back with her own arm. He repeated the process on the
other side, leaving her ass and pussy nicely exposed.
"You look real pretty like that, Elizabeth," he told her, slapping her
widespread gash two or three times. "Right fuckable."
Elizabeth stared up at her kidnapper, six and a half feet tall and
close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle covered in tattoos. He
knelt over her and started to undress, unfastening his belt buckle and
pulling the thick leather belt out through the loops. He doubled it
over, slapped her ass idly with it a few times - barely even enough to
leave a red mark, just enough to remind her how much he planned to
enjoy hurting her. Next he took down his jeans and wriggled out of
them, then kneeled over her with his erection bobbing against his
belly.
"Now, which hole should I stick this in, Elizabeth? I have two
choices, the way I see it."
He used his thumb and forefinger to probe her cunt and asshole
simultaneously, like a two-holed bowling ball. He dug them deep into
her holes, nearly lifting her off the ground. She didn't scream, just
winced and stiffened up.
Jazz pulled his fingers out and lay down on the girl, his face an inch
from hers.
"You know, honey, whichever hole I pick, this will hurt less if you
relax," he whispered, and leaned in to kiss her, pressing his lips
hard against hers, probing his tongue in between her teeth, using it
to explore her mouth as she lay bound beneath him. He could feel his
cock brushing against her ass as it got harder, a bead of precum
appearing at the tip.
"Do you have a boyfriend, Elizabeth?" he said almost gently. She shook
her head, no.
"That's too bad. Have you had one?" He stroked her cunt lips now,
insistent but not painful, and she actually began to lubricate for
him.
"Yes Sir," she said, her voice growing a little husky.
"Did you spread for him?"
"Sir?"
"Did he fuck you, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Just in your cunt, or did he fuck your asshole, too?"
"J-just in my uh, cunt, Sir." It was hard for her to say the word,
Jazz noted. A liberal bra-burner. He smiled at the thought. Only she
couldn't very well burn her bra with tits that size. He put his mouth
on them again, sucking, chewing at the bruised flesh.
"Well, then I'll just fuck your cunt tonight," he said. "Tomorrow,
though, I'm going to fuck you in the ass. How does that sound,
Elizabeth?"
"It, uh, sounds like it'll hurt," she said, gasping now as he probed
two fingers into her cunt, which was somewhat less dry than it had
been.
"Oh, it'll hurt, all right," Jazz said, poking her hard with his
fingers. It hurt, but nothing like having her tits used as punching
bags. "But remember, Elizabeth, I like to hurt you. I like the sound
you make when I hurt you. I like to see the bruises on your skin.
Tomorrow I'm going to make you bleed. Would you like that?"
"N-no, Sir."
"But you aren't begging me not to, are you?"
"No, Sir, it wouldn't - uh! - do any good." Jazz gave one last thrust
with his fingers before pulling them out and wiping them in the girl's
dreadlocks. Those locks would make a good handle when he fucked her
throat, he thought with a grin.
Jazz kneeled over her, lined his cock up with her slit and pushed it
in without further ceremony. She had moistened up somewhat from his
digital stimulation, but just enough for her skin not to tear from the
friction of his massive cock. Jazz moaned as he thrust it inside to
the hilt, smiling as the bound girl whimpered, impaled on his cock
like a spider on a pin. He fucked her hard, her vaginal tunnel
shortened by her position, bottoming out against her cervix with every
thrust. She let out a whine as she felt his thick, uncircumcised meat
digging tunnels into her belly.
After an eternity - well, it was really only about fifteen minutes,
but to the girl pinned under the enormous rapist it seemed like an
eternity - Jazz moaned and thrust his cock all the way into his toy,
spraying his cum deep into her womb. He collapsed atop her, using her
tortured breasts as pillows, and was asleep in minutes.
The girl lay weeping beneath him, her plans for escape foiled by her
captor's weight pinning her to the floor of the tent. His head
pressing against her chest made it difficult to breathe, and his chest
against her belly made her feel like she had to urinate. But she lay
helpless, her arms and legs pinned painfully up and out as she felt
Jazz's cum seeping out of her cunt hole and dripping down her ass.
In a few short minutes he was snoring, a dead weight on top of the
hurting girl. There was nothing for her to do but lay beneath him and
hope he rolled over in his sleep.

To Be Continued ...

End of Pt 8. The author welcomes questions/comments/suggestions for
further installments at worthlesspainslut@hotmail.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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