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***************************************
"A 'Strange Woman' Suite" (a series of
images about a woman who's not so sweet)


---------------
"Safe"   


 [A "Strange Woman" Image, i.e. all told in the
  female dominant's words]


Hmmm... I like it.  I can tell that you don't, which is
of course one reason why I like it.

I've always liked the images you come up with in which
the lovely woman is standing on one high heel shod foot,
the other tied to her thigh, with her hands tied behind
her and a rope around her neck, or tied to her hair.

And I do like using your ideas against you.  Of course,
I like using other things against you, too, like those
nice toys that men come equipped with which make it so
easy to cause you pain and make you afraid.  So I changed
the scenario a bit.  You also like imagining women with
the hands tied together and raised above and behind their
heads and a long rope pulled taut into their labia and
tied to the front of a belt.  But they might enjoy pulling
on their ropes.  I don't think you'll enjoy pulling on
yours.  Even if I just had it tied to your balls you'd
find that unpleasant.  But with your scrotum tied to display
your balls, and with that set of pliers setup so as to squeeze
your testicle and to squeeze it even tighter if you move
your hands forward even a little, that's much better, if
I do say so myself.  Relieve the stain on your arms even
a little - and I can see how they're trembling, the strain
is already terrible, isn't it dear ? - and you squeeze your
testicle; move your hands much more, and you crush your 
testicle.

And since I do like the raised leg, I do enjoy seeing you trying
to balance on one foot with the other leg up and forward, and
a cord from your ankle to the pliers on your other ball.


I do so wish I could have you with a noose around your neck
- or a ring of sharp wire; oh, how I'd like to see the wire 
slicing small cuts in your neck.  But as your dominant I need
to keep you safe.  Or at least preserve you as a functioning
plaything until/unless I find a way of breaking you that's
sufficiently thrilling.  And while this is fun, it isn't
fun enough to risk killing you.  You don't believe me when
I say that I will kill you someday, do you, dear ?  I *am*
going to, dear, once I find a way that's worthy of you and
hot enough for me.  But you don't want to believe me.  And
even if you did, you're quite powerless to leave me.

Ah, well, that's a matter for another day.  You don't die
today, dear, because it's my wish that you live.  But I do
want to keep you wobbling on one foot, and your hair is too
short to be tied as a way of making you stand.

Which is why I pierced your ears today - I do hope it hurt
a lot.  I'm sure sliding this wire through the hole in the
top of your ear will.  It does seem to be hurting you, that's
good.  And now the other ear.  It's quite OK if you grimace.

Now, I just tie off the wire, which I ran thorough a dangling
ring above your head.  And now if you don't maintain your balance
you'll fall and tear the wire through your ears, which will be
*very* painful for you.  But which won't kill you, or significantly
impair my use of you.  

So you just keep trying to stand on that one leg, dear, while
trying to keep your arms stretched and your other leg up 
- BTW, your raised knee and thigh make such a nice target for
my crop, and for my little hammer.  If you don't there'll be
a crushing weight applied to your testicles, and you'll pass
out from the pain and fall and get your ears all ripped up.

You just stand there and sweat and tremble, dear.  I know that
it's not all from the exertion, though I know the strain is
terrible.  I know part of the sweat and trembling is because
you're very frightened.  With reason.  Because I'm not going
to save you when you reach the limits of your endurance.  I'm
just going to lay back and watch you and slowly masturbate
while you suffer.  If I come enough times before your limits
are exceeded, I may let you out of this predicament without
any more injury.  But if I don't, well, I'm sure I'll come
seeing you screaming as your balls are squeezed every tighter,
and seeing the wire rip through your ears and watching your
still bound body squirming and bleeding on the floor - that's
why I had you put down that roll of plastic - that will surely also
make me come.  So I've nothing to lose from letting your suffering
go on and on and on, even if it does exceed your limits.  So you
should be very afraid, dear.

How delicious it is when I can see the fear in your face, along
with the pain.  Please do go on suffering and fearing, dear 
- not that you have any choice in the matter.  And struggling,
if you wish, though as that moan makes clear, any struggle will 
just cause you more pain.  There's no way out, dear, no way out
for you except my mercy.

And I love your suffering too much to show you any mercy.  At
least not when I know that you are safe.

-----------------------------------------------
"Breathe" (a "Strange Woman" Image)


I'm glad you arrived so promptly.  I hope you didn't
have any plans today.  Well, no, actually I hope you did
and you broke them to rush over here to be with me.

I like the sight of you with your cuffed hands linked
by a chain to your cuffed ankled.

Now as it happens, I'm busy this morning, so I'm going
to collar and leash you and chain you to the doghouse
till I have some free time, probably sometime late this
afternoon.  I'm sure that nothing you could have planned
could be more important than sitting in chains in my back
yard all day.

Hush, I neither require nor want an answer.  We both
know you'll do what I want you to do.   And I want you
to sit silently - not one sound out of you until I give
you permission to speak - in chains while leashed to
the dog house.  I believe that the dogs know you well
enough that your presence won't be a problem.  At least
not if you don't try to drink from their trough.  Pity,
as it's the only water out there.

Don't worry they won't bite you in the crotch again, unless
I order them to.  But the arm or leg, well, I don't know
if they know you enough to let you drink their water.

Now come along, and remember, they also serve who sit
in chains and wait.  I'm going to be horny all day
thinking about you out there waiting for me to use you.

[many hours later]

And how are you doing ?  You can speak now.  Ah, yes,
I didn't mention that I planned to pull the chain through the
O-ring until your face was pressed to the ground, or that
I hadn't moved those piles on either side of your head.
Was the odor too terrible ?

Oh, no, dear, no, no....

No, dear, I didn't want to suggest that you were another
pile of shit.  I am sorry about that.  However much I enjoy
making you suffer - however much I like to make you lay for
hours in the heat with the stench of shit filling your 
nostrils - I do value you and I would never want you to
think otherwise.

Now, take these keys and unlock yourself.  Ah, yes, I'll
loosen the collar chain so you can sit up.

Now, take off your clothes.  Yes, here.  I think anyone
who's watching has already had a show, let's give them some
more.  Now STRIP.

Good.  Now come along.  I think you'll agree you need a shower.
And a few friends from the fire company agreed to bring out
the pumper so we can hose you down.  Don't you just hate
showers with weak pressure ?  That won't be a problem for
you.  Now let me tie you to this pole - I suppose it is
good that I moved out here, though I suppose some of my old
neighbors wouldn't have minded the show.

Now, some soap and a nice stiff brush, and I'll brush you
thoroughly all over and get you in a nice lather.  Well,
of course I always do, but this lather other people can see.

Ah, well, I did say it was a stiff brush, dear.  And I didn't
say that it wasn't a lye soap I'd be using.  Now hold still
and let me finish brushing you.  Now spread your legs.  Yes,
in front of the firemen.  And Carla, did you notice her ?
 - Hiya, Carla -

As it happens all of these blokes are happy to sleep with men 
and slide down poles - as is Carla - so no one here is at all
embarrassed.  Aside from you, that is, and that's OK.  Though
some of them do seem a bit squirmy now that I'm using the
brush between your legs.  Now, dear, please do take it like
a man - Don't all you guys think he should take it like a
man ?;  my, what a nice cheer - the brush isn't all that hard
and I'm not being inordinately concerned about keeping those 
parts clean, it's just that good hygiene is important and
a good scrubbing does take a lot of strokes over the same 
area.  And the lye concentration in the soap isn't all 
*that* high.

There, all done.  Now, you just stand there - well, dancing 
around the pole is OK also - and let the soap do its work
while the firefighters handle their hoses - the really big
one first, guys - and get set up to hose you down.  Now, dear,
you know better than that, or at least you know me better
than that, nothing is going to burn off.  You know I have
some very nice set of tubular clamps with crocodile features
- OK, maybe more reminiscent of a cayman - designed to
burn a man's cock off, and if I were going to burn yours
off, I'd use them to do it.  You're going to stay quite 
intact today.

Now, guys, let's hose him down !

Oh, that's nice.  Can you make him swing around the pole 
any faster ?  Delightful !  Now the other way, please ?
Very good.  I want him quite thoroughly cleaned off, guys, 
and spare no spot, except, of course, his head (the upper one).

That's very good.  Thanks, everyone.  No, he's all right,
he always slumps like that after a session with a fire hose.
I'll have him back on his feet in a little while.

- Bye everyone, see you soon ! -

Well, now, if you're going to be lazy like this - and in
front of guests, too - I'll just go about my business until
you feel like standing on your own two feet again.

BTW, the bus from the girls boarding school down the road
should be coming back from their outing sometime soon.
I would prefer it if you were standing up then; I suspect
that some of those girls would also prefer you be standing 
up when they pass by.


[later]

Good to see you standing again.  Feeling a bit sore,
I imagine ?  Good.  Now let me untie you and we'll
play for a while.  

I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time, as I've still
much work to do.  But I'm making some time for play.
Sit there.  Yes, the chair with a partly open seat.
And, why, yes, that *is* a carpet beater.  But I'm
not planning to use it today. 

Now SIT.  Make fists with your thumbs inside the
fist. Hold your hands out so I can tape them;
no pesky fingers working the knots, and nothing to
bunch with.  Don't feel bad, dear, I know you wouldn't
try to get loose if I told you not to, and I know you
wouldn't punch me unless you were totally out of your
mind with pain - a state I do like putting you in,
but I'm afraid I don't have time to do that tonight -
I just like making you totally helpless and knowing
that even if you wanted to resist you couldn't.

Hmm, now let me tie you nice and tight; the rope is 
nice and wide and nice and soft, so I'll tie you 
*nasty* and tight. There's plenty of rope to get you 
nice and secure.  Well, nastily secured.  I also
hope that you are nice and secure, because if you aren't
very secure, this is going to be very, very terrifying
for you instead of just routinely terrifying.

But first I'm just going to get in your lap and kiss you
and rub against you and nibble on you.  OK, bite you.
I presume that you won't mind if I take my clothes off first ?

Hmmm.... I like biting and hugging and kissing and scratching
you.  And caressing you and pinching you and squeezing you
where you like it, and where you don't like it.  Overall,
you *do* seem to like it.

Now, let me take this dildo.  Head back and mouth open, dear.
I'm going to slowly work this down your throat.  I know it's
not easy for you dear, try to relax.  It's a nice long thick
dildo, it's going to fill up your mouth and throat.  Relax,
don't fight it, just let it in, there, that's not so bad, 
is it ?  Aside from not being able to breath.  I'll pull it
back in a few seconds.  You do trust me, don't you ?

OK, you can breath now.

And now you can't.

And now you can.

And now you can't.  And while you can't I'm going
to kiss and bite you some more.

So how does it feel, dear, being completely helpless
with me keeping this dildo in your throat like a control
rod, and by moving it in and out I can determined whether
you breath or not ?  Do you trust me enough that your mind
doesn't believe I'll kill you ?  But even so, your body
isn't so sure is it ?  Your body is terrified, I can feel
it.  

And why should your mind be certain - if it is ?.  
I've told you that you gave your trust to me too easily.
I've told you I have terrible desires, that I want 
to do monstrous things to people, that I want to do
terribly monstrous thing to *you*.  I've warned you 
that I want to kill you.  I've told you that I would
kill you when I found a way thrilling enough.  Did
you think - ah, here, better take some breaths dear -
that I wasn't being truthful ?  Why would you trust
a liar ?   Maybe you've been vain enough to believe
I'd never find a way to kill you thrilling enough
to make it worth not having you in my life anymore ?
But then, you'll always be in my life - take a breath;
one will do - I assure you I'll always remember you
as a treasure and the memory of your dying slowly at
my hands will warm me and thrill me all my life.
Like the look in your eyes thrills me now, dear.
Take a breath - nope, changed my mind  &lt;giggle&gt;
No, do take a breath now, dear.  Mistress will let
you breathe.  I don't want you to die *yet*.  I want
to keep your life in my hands - and sometimes your
cock in my hands, does it hurt then I stroke your
poor sore cock, dear, I hope it does; three blinks
for "yes", very good - anyway, I want to keep your
life in my hands a while longer.

You know, I do treasure you, precious, so maybe it 
isn't too much hubris for you to think I won't kill
you, but it seems to me that you're underestimating
*me*, and that's not a good thing for a submissive
to be doing.  You don't think, as well as you know
me - but how well do you know me ? oh, yes, breathe;
isn't purple a lovely color - that I'm cruel and
creative and creatively cruel enough to find a way 
to kill you that's worthy of you - and worthy of me ?
I *will* kill you when I find such a way, dear,
not immediately, I'd want to play with you some 
more, maybe many more times while I contemplated
your death, but someday, when I've contemplated
it enough and the desire and the anticipation have
built enough, I *will* kill you, and the last day
of your life will be the greatest day of mine.
I'll be sad afterwards, because you'll be gone, and 
because the greatest moment of my life will have 
come and gone.  But to have that moment, I'll do it.

Breathe.

That's enough.

OK, a few more breaths.

Now, how do you know that watching your face as
you're watching me decide if you go on living isn't 
that thrill ?   Hmmm ?

Don't talk with your mouth full, dear, it's bad manners.

Anyway, I can guess what you're saying, that I don't
have time to kill you properly today.  And you're
correct dear, as you usually are, except about my not
killing you, you're wrong to think that I am not going
to take your life someday, but I won't do it today 
because as fun as this is, it isn't *that* thrilling,
and because when I kill you it's going to be something
that I can take my time about and do slowly with no
worry about anything else I might have to do, and today
I don't have that luxury.  So you live today, dear, and
I'm going to spend some more time letting you breathe and
depriving you of breath, playing Goddess a little longer.
And I'm going to strap this other dildo to your thigh
- I'm sure you are really enjoying the hooks on the 
inside of the triple strap and the bottom of the long
base, the straps, pulled very tight - like this - and
those hooks will keep it from sliding about (I'll be
doing the sliding, where is that lube, oh, yes, here
it is; not that I really need to lube the dildo, dear, 
not the way I'm dripping).

And now I'm going to fuck your leg, dear - yes, a
bitch fucking your leg - while playing with *both*
your control rods.  I'm going to come and you will
not (that's an order).

[later]

Hmm...hmmmmm...hmmm.

Ohh, damn.  I would like to go on sitting here against
you, but I do have hard deadlines.  But just a little
longer....

Now, I've got to get back to work.  That was very nice.
Maybe I'll work with a bit more focus now.  At least for
a couple hours.

You stay here.  And here, hold this in your teeth.

They also serve who only sit tied to chairs with a
dildo in their teeth and another strapped to their
thigh.  If I finish this project tonight we'll play
again before I go to bed.  If not, well you won't
mind laying in chains alongside my bed so I can
step on you whenever I have to get up, will you ?
No, of course it wouldn't matter, when does it ever,
it's just me playing at being an arch bitch - or
is that archly playing at being an archbitch ?
Whatever, no, dear, it doesn't matter what you 
want or don't want, you will be getting stepped
on tonight and tomorrow, and if you don't watch
yourself I may just put on those high heels you
like so much to *see* me wear.

Later, dear.

------------------------------------------------------


"Disposals" [A Strange Woman" story]


I hope that the head harness and the blindfold and gag 
aren't too distressing for you, dear.  The host for 
this very special gathering said that we could bring 
our slaves, but they had to be blindfolded and gagged
(and wearing headphones that would play loud white
noise when we weren't speaking to them via microphones), 
tightly bound, and on leashes.  An alternative to the 
blindfold and gag and headphones was a sensory deprivation 
helmet, but I thought that might be too uncomfortable for 
you on such a hot, sunny day.

Well, of course, I don't mind you being uncomfortable,
but I do like keeping you conscious.  No passing out
from heatstroke is allowed, dear, hence no helmet.

Our host didn't specify that you slaves had to be naked
or that the leash had to be around the testicles
or that part of it had to be barbed wire.  I
just thought that'd be fun for me.  Some of the
other dominants seem to enjoy it also; I thought
they might, which is why I brought along a glove 
for anyone who wanted to heft or squeeze your
balls.   We all find your whimpers quite pleasing.
Maybe it doesn't fit the domly dom image for
us to giggle, but we don't have to meet anyones'
standards but our own.  It's you boys who have 
to live up to our standards - or else.

Which is why we're here, precious.  Our host
has gotten weary of some of her slaves and
intends to acquire new ones.  No problem there,
of course, as any of us can get as many of you
as we want.  But there is the question of what
to do with her current slaves.  She's quite
adamant that no man ever leaves her, so release
or sale is not an option.  Disposal is the only
option, and that's what we are here to observe;
after all, one might as well enjoy the task
rather than view it as a dreary chore.

You and the other bound boys will get to see
the finale, as none of you will be able to make
any use of the information.  Till then you'll
have to remain blindfolded so you'll not be able
to see anything you could later testify about.
I know you would never say anything that could 
put me at jeopardy, but obviously no one knows 
how much anyone else's slave can be trusted.

But I'll tell you what happens.  

What happens later, that is.  For now it's
a social time for a bunch of women sadists,
and we're going to put you all in a corral
in the sun while we sit under tents in the
shade and eat fruit and chocolate and other
treats and gossip and talk all the shapely
bums and cocks in the corral and about how we'd
torture them.


[Later]

Hello, dear.  A bit sweaty and dusty, aren't
you ?  Otherwise you seem OK.

We had a pleasant time, such wonderful food 
and drink.  Are you thirsty, dear ?  Good.

Our host has five slaves.  She thought it might
be best to keep one, so he can help train the
new acquisitions how to serve her; he can always
be disposed of later, of course.  So she's
having a little contest to see who wins, and
who gets to be disposed of 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and
4th.   As I'm sure you can guess, that's in
rising order of horror.

Just a simple game, really.  Five naked men, their
hands tied behind them, and a five poles with
rather large dildoes mounted on them, three of
which are lubed, one of the lubed ones lubed
with a very highly irritating lubricant.  And
now the slaveboys will play musical assfucks,
walking around the row of poles while the music
plays - I personally think Prince's "I would die
for u" is too obvious - and when it stops they
have to plunge themselves onto the dildoes.
The last man with the dildo all the way in is
the loser, and will be the last to die.

Oh, yes - owwweeep - oh that's so funny, five
men fucking themselves and four hoping not
to get screwed, getting those big dildoes in
so fast is so painful, the looks on their faces
are so wonderful, especially the guys with
the dry dildos.  Of course, the guy screaming
because he's trying to sit on a dildo lubricated
with a lye solution looks pretty funny also.

Ah, we have a loser.  Poor dear, he looks so
scared - as he should, of course - they're
tying him to a post to watch the rest of the
events and await his fate.


Second round coming up - or is that going down ?
"The Girl Can't Help It" is a more fun piece,
I think.  Four men - four men with sore asses,
one with a very sore ass - and four dildoes,
two lubed.  They can fight for the lubed dildoes
or just try to get down the nearest one as fast
as possible.  It's always nice to see some strategy,
don't you think ?

And they're off - make that on, well, one is
on, the guy with lye up his ass is having his problems
and the other two are trying to kick each others 
balls to get to the remaining lubed dildo, oh, a hit,
a most palpable hit, the one man is down and the other
is sliding down, the man on his knees better get up,
he still has a chance to beat the man with the world's
cleanest rectum if he hops up and hops on, he's trying,
he's on, but, no, too late, the man with the clean asshole 
and the very, very dirty mouth - such language ! - has beat
him to it, and he's being led, walking very slowly, to
the number three post.


Three men and three dildoes, only one lubed.  No rest 
for the weary, the women in the audience are saying,
they want to see assfucking *now* !, and the slaveboys
are staggering around the three poles.  Indeed, it is
"Raining Men", which is why pretty things like these
- BTW, dear, they are all younger, much prettier, more buff, 
and better endowed than you, but that's OK, dear, I still
like you - are expendable.  And awaaay they go - oh, the
kicker is at it again, but he's not getting the angle,
and, oh, a nice sweeping kick took his one grounded leg
out from under him but the guy with the really, really
hot ass got to the lubed dildo while the other two were
fighting, oh, what a headbutt, a spearing to the solar
plexus and the ramming the head up into the jaw, and
he's rocked him off the cock and he's getting on, the
other guy is up but limping, I don't think he'll be kicking
and more, he's getting on a dry dick, and the third
man is still down, I don't think he can get up, the
other two are on and all the way down, the last boy
is still down, now they'll picking him up and shoving
him on, since no one has the option of not taking a
dildo up the ass.  Now they are dragging him to post
#2 and binding him to it, and working on him to wake
him up so he doesn't miss anything.

Now two men and two dildoes, neither lubed, but each
rubber prick lined with prickly plastic points, vampire
dildoes, you could say.   The final won't be determined 
by who can make the best butt or even by who has the best 
butt, but by who can handle the most pain.

And the two finalists start staggering around the
poles as "I Am Woman" plays.  They're going to give
them plenty of time to worry and make them keep walking.

And walking.

And walking.

"I Am Woman" is over and "The End" is starting to play,
and it stops and the men are getting on while the
women are getting off and the dildoes are slowing being 
worked through horribly sore anuses and the plastic
pricks are pulling and pricking and the men are screaming
and crying but they keep trying, trying so hard to do
what's so terribly hard, squirming and twisting and
spreading their legs and trying to lower themselves further
despite the agony so obvious on their faces so flushed and
so wet with sweat and tears - and I think we know where
there's some blood - each downward thrust brings another
delicious scream from each man and a reply from a chorus
of women,  I don't think any woman here is going home in 
dry panties unless she brought extra, they're all loving
this, and oh, yes, we have a winner, he's all the way
on, and now, with a good hard push and a howl from hell, 
the other man is on.

And now, of course, the fun continues, as they have to come
off those dildoes.  Awww, no fun, the winner's being
taken off the pole and the inner part of his dildo removed
so it can be compressed enough to get him off without
further damage.  Oh, well, the idea was for him to stay
alive for awhile.  But as for the runner-up, well, for
him no such mercy.  A couple volunteers from the audience
- rats, dear, we're too far away; the cheesecake was
certainly good but if I'd know how good the beefcake
was going to be I'd have hurried here to get a better
seat - get to yank that dildo out of him, and oh, what
a scream, and they drag him to post number one and
tie him to it.

And now everyone needs some recovery time before we
proceed.  You get down and serve as my footstool while
we all talk about what we've seen.


[Later]

OK, dear, get up.  

You wait here, I have something to do.

[Later]

Well, that was fun.  You see, we all got tickets when
we arrived, and then had a drawing for door prizes.
I didn't get the big prize, but I did get a nice
one: being in the firing squad.  Since he was to
die first and easiest, five of us with .22 caliber
pistols lined up a few feet in front of him, after
they got him awake enough to face us - no blindfold,
of course, and shot him.  Then we got to have some
real fun with #2.  We drew lots to determine our
sequence, and lined up in front of him, and told
him the rules.  After each shot he would say
"Thank you, mistress, may I have another".  If he
did this, then when we were done we'd shoot him
through the heart.  If he didn't, when we came to 
our last rounds, we'd shoot him him the balls and
leave him to die.  Either he didn't like that idea
or he was *really* a quite good submissive, as he
kept saying, "Thank you mistress may I have another"
as we in turn shot him in the hands and feet and arms 
and legs and sides - and one show-offy bitch decided 
to shoot away his ears; like I couldn't do that if I 
wanted to spend hours on the target range.  When we 
came to our sixth round (five for him, one for #1), 
someone carved a heart on his chest, and we shot him 
there.

Number three is coming up soon.  Hmm, they've got
him chained over a barbecue, it seems they are slow
roasting his testicles.  Even slow roasting doesn't
take long, and now they are cutting them off (and
cauterizing the wound), and two mistresses are bringing
their slaves over and taking the gags from their
mouths and telling them each to eat a testicle.
Hmm, and now they are getting #3 up, they must have
given him some combination of drugs to do this, and
they're making a cut in his gut and putting a hook
in there and hooking some intestine, and now they
are part dragging and part beating him across some
open ground and using something like you'd see in
croquet to hold his intestines down, till he can't
go on, and now they are bashing his head in with
croquet mallets - a nice choice, such a civilized
game, one so suited to delicate women.  Ah, I see;
a sort of special three legged race.  Sets of slaves,
hands bound behind them and their cocks tied together,
and going to race across the open surface, trying to
avoid tripping over the meandering intestines across
their path.  There they go; such an interesting running
style, there's a tumble, but they seem OK and are
slowly getting up - ah, too slowly, they've both 
been speared by women on horseback, so that's why
they asked If I'd ever hunted pigs on horseback
with a spear - another tumble, OH, LOVELY, I think
you're glad you didn't see that one dear, but it 
got quite a cheer from the crowd.  And here we
have a winning team, and the women on horseback
are going after the rest - some other dominants
much being doing disposals also - the remaining
race teams are trying to run but not getting
far  AH, BRAVA, BRAVA ! one of the spearwomen separated
a team so they could run better, but the ungrateful
men just laid down and stopped running.

And soon number four.  This one you slaves - the ones
still alive of course, there will be a lot fewer going home
than came here - are going to watch, so as to impress in
your minds the need to stay interesting to your dominants, 
so come along dear.

A bit faster; the hobble isn't all that short.  OK, well, yes,
it is, but do hop to it, dear.

Better.

Now, I'm going to tie you into this niche here from which you can
only see one narrow spot - within which you won't be able to see
anything that  would make for useful testimony - then remove your 
blindfold.  You see that steaming hot strip of blacktop ?  It's 
part of a private road.  Notice the stakes on either side of it, 
and the ropes on them ? I'll let you know what the plan is so 
you'll know what to look for and have an idea what's happening 
beyond your sight.

They will bring #4 and bind his wrists and ankles to those ropes
and make him lay naked on his back on that blacktop, and we
can all watch him struggle and squirm and burn.  We're going to 
enjoy this for awhile, then they'll move him down a few feet to
another set of stakes and make him lay face down on the burning
blacktop and squirm and burn some more.  Then one of the door 
prize winners will get to grind the head of his cock down into
some blacktop that will first be heated so it will be partly
melted and the head of his cock will sink into it.

Then the winner of the grand prize gets her chance.  I thought
driving a steamroller was a bit butch, but I like what she's
doing with it; from your angle you won't be able to see it,
which is a bit, I'm sure you'd like it, she's going so
ultrafemme, lacy white dress, pearl necklace and earrings, 
white sockings and white satin high heels, with long white
lace gloves and a white flowered hat and a gossamer veil;
you like see-through veils. don't you ?, pity you'll miss
this.  She's going to drive it while her femslave - oh,
yes, women slaves can walk around freely, silly; they're
much too valuable to ever dispose of like this, so no one
needs worry that an insecure woman slave is going to call
the authorities.  But most of these men aren't getting anywhere
near a phone ever again.  You, of course, will be perfectly
free.  I've told you often enough to save yourself by quitting
my service but you won't go.  That *is* going to kill you
one of these days.  Maybe after today you'll actually believe
that.  But it will make no difference, as you're past the point
when you could have left me.

Anyway..., her female slave, who looks smashing in a shiny
black bodysuit and boots combo that reflects the sun so well,
and who looks so much the dangerous dominant, will be standing
alongside the sadist in satin and lace and holding up a frilly
parasol to keep the sun off her mistress.  Who will drive the
steamroller - slowly, of course - towards and over his hands
as he lays stretched on the blacktop.  And then come back and
crush his feet; tourniquets after these events will, we hope,
keep him alive to have his arms and legs crushed, and then
a large pile of hot tar will be poured alongside him, and 
the steamroller will then push it over his head and torso,
burning him and perhaps suffocating him or at least stopping
him from breathing - and sadly, from screaming; it's hard to
either breathe or scream with a mouth full of hot tar - until
the steamroller crushes him and makes him part of the new road
(there are a few low spots along the planned extension of the
road that need filling, so we may try filling them in when
we're cleaning up from the party; of course I wouldn't be a 
good guest if I didn't help, I may be too delicate a girly-girl
to carry heavy weights, but I can use a chainsaw).

Anyway, dear, that's the vision you have to look forward too
later.  I think it should be quite a show; I certainly
expect to enjoy it.

But don't be worried, dear.  When your time comes I'll come
up with something better for you.  You do deserve that.

Now I'm off for more gossip and shop talk and more chocolate.
Oh, we might find yourself getting whipped and caned.  With all 
you male slaves tied in these vaguely phone-boothish contraptions,
that's a lot of back and bums and thighs exposed, and we've
all agreed to let our sister sadists try out our toys.  Not our
whips, of course, that would be much too much to ask.  Our walking
(when they aren't tied up good and tight) toys.

Enjoy your wait; I'm sure #4 is finding his wait interesting.

Later, love.

------------------
Final View

This is going to be the one in which she kills him.  It
may not be the next one in this series written (nor even
necessarily the last one writen) but it will of course
be the last piece of the series.

************************************

