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“So, how do you want to
die?”
“Please,” she begged
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re absolutely
correct,” I replied, “I don’t HAVE to do this. The thing is, Laura, I want to
do it. And I’m going to do it. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“But I don’t want to
die!” she screamed, eyes pleading as she burst into tears.
“Oh, little Laura,” I
whispered as I bent over my young captive. She was naked, of course, wrists
shackled together behind her and chained high up to the wall, keeping her arms
tight and high. She was kneeling, legs apart, her ankles restrained in a
similar manner. Her head was now hanging limply against her chest again, her
long brown hair, a little matted after nearly two months in the basement,
almost reaching the floor.
“You know better than
to shout at me.” I produced a gag from my belt and forced the rubber ball
between her pretty red lips, fastening the leather straps just tight enough to
hurt her.
The slender 18-year-old
snuffled adorably, and went back to hanging in her chains.
“Come on Laura,” I
said. I loved using her name. Claiming something else of hers that she didn’t
want me to have, you see. “You have to decide. Just point your head at what you
want me to use to kill you, and I promise to respect your wishes. I’m nice like
that.”
Laid out on the filthy
tiles were my prisoner’s three choices. Pointing to each in turn I talked her
through the options.
“This,” I said,
indicating a loop of wire with a wooden stick on one side, “is the garot. It is
the quickest way of killing you, but is also very painful. It will feel like
your head is being separated from your body as your windpipe and spine are
crushed into each other.”
Laura was shaking
visibly now, eyes transfixed on the devilish device. Tears streamed down her
cheeks.
“Your eyes will bulge
out of your head as the blood supply is cut off and, eventually, after a couple
of minutes depending on how hard I turn the handle, you’re dead. No more Laura
Topham.”
“Option two,” I pointed
to the perfectly tied noose, “is death by hanging. That’s old-skool hanging,
slow-hanging. None of the quick-broken-neck stuff you may have seen on the news
of late. Noose around your neck, you’ll be slowly lifted off the floor until
your own weight starts to cut off your air supply. It’s the slowest option on
display this morning, taking up to 10 minutes to kill you, and in the middle on
the pain scale. You’ll piss yourself, probably shit yourself, and your legs
will kick wildly away underneath you, something that I will capture on film as
it’s very popular in the darker corners of the internet these days.
“Still with me, dear?”
Laura nodded weakly. “Good. Your final option is the least painful, but takes
the longest – suffocation. I will place this plastic bag over your head and
seal it off tightly, then fuck you as you are slowly killed off by your own
body, the carbon dioxide you exhale eventually filling the bag, your lungs and
your bloodstream, killing off your brain. With a bit of luck and the right
timing, the last thing you feel will be me coming deep inside you. Won’t that
be fun?”
I removed her gag and
lifted her chin up to face me. Her eyes were puffy with tears, not the first
tears she’d shed since I snatched her off the street on her first day at
university, and almost certainly not the last.
“You can’t make me
choose,” she wimpered. “I won’t do it.”
I had been expecting
this.
“Well, Miss Topham, if
you don’t choose one of these three then we go to default option number four.
You see that alcove over there?”
I indicated a small
hollow in the wall opposite, perhaps six feet by three feet and no more than
three feet high.
“If you don’t choose
one of these three options, I’ll drag you over to that alcove, chain you to the
floor and then brick you up inside – build a wall over the gap. I’ll put some
water in there to keep you alive for a while, but no food. After seven or eight
weeks you’ll starve to death. And that’s how Laura Topham will die, slowly,
agonisingly, alone in the dark. And nobody will ever know your body is there,
so you’ll lie there forever.”
She looked terrified
now, more so than at any point until now.
“You wouldn’t!” she
said, between desperate sobs, “You WOULDN’T!”
“Oh, believe me,
sweetie, I would,” I replied. “If you look closely you will see three other
alcoves down here that have bricks newer than the surrounding walls. I don’t
need to tell you what is behind those three walls, but maybe I should tell you
who. You might recognise their names from the newspapers…
“Wall number one is the
final resting place of Anna Sowerby, age 15, from Leicester. She went in there
after four happy months in my care 10 years ago. Wall number two is home to
Holly Broadfoot, age 21, from Cardiff. I wanted to let her have a proper
funeral and all that, but she refused to co-operate and left me with no choice.
“And behind wall number
three is Chloe Williams, aged 14, from Nottingham. She went in not long before
you arrived, so she probably died while you were down here.
“That’s what happens to
the naughty girls, Laura. The good girls – Emma, Sally, Jessica, Emily and a
couple of others whose names now escape me — died down here at my hands and
turned up in a ditch on the other side of the country a few days later. Their
families got ‘closure’ and they got a nice proper burial. The naughty girls got
walled in and starved to death alone.
“No matter what you do,
you are going to die in this basement. You are never going to leave here alive.
So all you have to do is decide whether you’re going to be a good girl or a
naughty girl.”
+++++
I’d grabbed her seven
weeks earlier. It was the first day of fresher’s week at the university and
she’d been walking home from a nightclub in her finest pulling clothes. If you
know where to go and when, it’s the ideal time to attack pretty young girls in
Sheffield – they get lost so easily. There’s a road junction between a certain
nightclub and a certain hall of residence. Pick the correct turning and you’re
home and safe within half an hour. Pick the wrong one and before you realise
you’ve made a mistake you’re in the middle of a poorly lit wasteland with a
vast cemetery running down one side.
As it’s the students’
first week in a new town nobody knows them so nobody misses them. Their parents
aren’t expecting to hear anything from them for a while, so the first time
anyone notices they’ve vanished is when they fail to turn up for lectures on
the Monday morning.
So I got my gear
together, stole a car and headed north. And then I waited. A few possible
targets had tottered past on high heels, but nobody really matched when I was
after this time. My previous victim, young Chloe who was rapidly losing weight
in her subterrainian tomb back down south, had only been 14, and I was after
something older. Student rather than schoolgirl.
When Laura Topham, very
drunk and slightly confused, ambled into view I recognised an ideal opportunity
to combine the two. She’d been to one of those school disco nights, where grown
women dress up like schoolgirls to try and capture that Britney Spears vibe.
And capture it she had: her silky brown hair was tied in bunches, her skirt was
hitched to mid-thigh with fishnets underneath, and her blouse was ruffed up at
the front to reveal a taut little tummy. She must have been freezing. A tie
hung loose around her neck.
After wondering about
how she had failed to get picked up by a guy while dressed like that, I snapped
back into kidnapper mode and prepared to strike. It was all too easy. Sometimes
I have to drag them off somewhere to subdue them, make them think I’m just a
mugger before hitting them with the horrible truth once they’re nice and quiet.
But Laura was clearly three sheets to the wind and was not going to put up much
of a fight.
I watched in the
rear-view mirror as she approached, weaving along the road. She even stopped
and steadied herself on the boot of my car, little realising she’d be inside it
within minutes. It was time.
I popped the boot,
throwing her off her balance. She landed flat on her arse, and sat giggling in
the gutter.
“You alright love?” I asked,
getting out of the car.
“YES!” she replied
perkily. Her voice was delightfully English middle class. “Just
taking the scenic route home. I’m fine.”
“Not for long you’re
not,” I said, causing a sweet look of confusion to spread across her face.
“Excuse me?”
“I said you’re not
going to be fine for long. In a second I’m going to knock you out with a stun
gun, tie you up, put you in the boot of my car and take you to a dungeon down
south. Then I’m going to strip you naked and keep you as my sex slave until I
get bored and kill you.”
She burst out laughing.
I reached for my stun gun.
When she came round she
was lying naked on the cold floor of the basement, a chain around her neck
tethering her to the wall, he hands cuffed behind her back and a rubber ball
strapped between her teeth.
For Laura it all went
downhill from then on. Seven weeks of rape, much of it anal. Seven weeks of
whippings. Seven weeks of electro-shock torture. Seven weeks of sleep
deprivation. Seven weeks of suspension from a range of body parts. Seven weeks
of hell.
+++++++++++++
I knew she would do
anything to avoid being walled up. I’d discovered her extreme claustrophobia
not long after I snatched her, when for amusement I locked her in the hole, I
two-foot square drain in the floor with a heavy wooden trapdoor over it. She’d
freaked out big time, even more that I’d expected, screaming and thrashing
around as best her chains would allow. I thought about getting her out, such
was her panic, but decided to enjoy her screams instead. When I fished her out
three days later she was covered in cuts and bruises from throwing herself
against the walls of her tiny cell.
So she was never going
to voluntarily choose such an end.
After several minutes
she eventually nodded at the plastic bag. “That one,” she muttered, unable to
say its name.
“A wise choice,” I
said. “Now, at some point in the next three days you’ll be dead. I shan’t tell
you exactly when as that would spoil the surprise. Now I’m off to bed, but to
keep you occupied for the night I’ve prepared a little movie for you. Enjoy!”
I left the basement,
locking the heavy metal door behind me, climbed the steps and closed and bolted
the wooden trapdoor, covering it with carpet. I headed off to my studio, which
doubled as a control room for the underground torture chamber, and flicked the
switch that killed the lights, plunging little Laura into darkness. Another
switch turned on the night-vision cameras that monitored my little captive. She
was still just hanging limply, her body shuddering with sobs. I turned on the
video projector and her head shot upwards as a white screen whirred down from
the ceiling across the wall in front of her. Then the projector behind her
sprang into life. It was showtime.
The film was a
collection of images, still and moving, of my previous victims. Laura looked on
curiously at the earlier pictures. There were surveillance photos from before
I’d snatched girls, newspaper front pages pleading for the return of some of
the them, clips from the TV news. Her attention was really caught when she saw
the front page of her own hometown paper with her smiling school photo beaming
out from the front page. She started to cry yet again. Then the tone of the
images changed, along with the setting. It was the basement she knew so well,
but the girl hanging from her wrists as she was whipped with a length of barbed
wire was not her. It was my first ever victim, the oh-so-adorable schoolgirl
Anna. She was 15 when I grabbed her as she did her paper round, and her abduction
made headlines around the country. Eventually the fuss died down, ironically
just as she died, down in the dungeon.
Then there was tiny
little Chloe, gagged and tightly strapped over a bench with tears pouring down
her face as a masked man (that’ll be me) fucked her from behind. There was
Holly’s body shuddering as electric shocks coursed through her. Sally, chained spread-eagled to the wall, screaming into her
gag as I branded her breasts with a red-hot piece of iron. Jessica,
a 25-year-old teacher, having her pussy pounded by a brutal fucking machine.
The film went on and on, and Laura couldn’t help but watch. The she froze as a
close-up of her face appeared on screen. You could tell it was from early on in
her captivity as she wasn’t bruised or bloodied. Her face, with a bit gag
forcing her lips apart, was contorted in shame and pain, her head jerking as
she was roughly taken from behind. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, with
tears leaking out of either side and mixing with the sweat that drenched her
head and matted her hair. Slowly the camera pulled back to reveal a fuller
picture. She was naked on all fours, bent across a low table. Her wrists were
bound together in front of her, a long rope keeping them tightly pulled out
across the table top. Her legs were spread with her taut little thighs held to
the table legs with leather straps.
Laura seemed to have
forgotten what had happened on her second day in my care, as she kept looking
at the screen in horror. But as the camera pulled back further to reveal the
Doberman with its cock buried deep inside her, she looked away, screaming,
wailing, pulling at her chains. I had a put a great deal of time and effort
into editing this film, though, as wasn’t prepared to have it ignored. I
flicked a switch and a burst of electricity was fired into the large metal
dildo buried deep in her anus.
She screamed in pain
and shock. “Eyes forward, bitch” I intoned over the PA system. Her body
quivering from the jolt she slowly raised her head back to the screen, where the
scene was now changing again.
It was the same girls
in the same order, but this time Laura was seeing them die. Most of them had
chosen the bag option, so there was plenty of pretty teenage flesh expiring of
asphyxiation while I fucked them from various directions in various holes.
Emily, perhaps not heeding my warning about how long it would take, had opted
for hanging. The silent film showed the 17-year-old redhead restrained in a
position similar to Laura’s current predicament, but she was clearly begging
and shaking her head I walked into the frame carrying a noose. I placed it
around her neck and pulled it tight, then released the manacles holding her
ankles in place. I walked out of shot, Emily now screaming at me to stop. She
struggled to her feet as the rope pulled tight, trying to escape the inevitable
as the noose rose towards the ceiling. I came back into the shot and unclipped
her wrists from the wall, leaving them cuffed behind her back, then departed.
Once again the rope started slowly winching higher. Emily moved onto her
tiptoes, no longer screaming, just gasping frantically as she began to be
strangled. She was only a little thing, no more than 5’2”, so it didn’t take
long for her feet to leave the ground. As they did so she started to thrash
wildly, legs twitching as she span on the rope.
I took my eyes off the
video monitor for a moment and saw that Laura was again looking away in horror.
I shocked her again, this time for 15 seconds non-stop. “I said eyes forward,
Miss Topham. Keep watching or you’re going back in the hole and this time
you’re not coming out.”
For a claustrophobe
like Laura, the threat of dying in the hole was worse than the threat of simply
dying at my hands. She looked back a the screen just in time to see Emily’s bowels
emptying all over the floor where Laura now kneeled — she looked up at the
ceiling, obviously spotting the noose still dangling above her in the
gloom. Urine was now streaming down
Emily’s legs as her twitching slowed. The camera zoomed in on her face as her
eyes bulged and her tongue lolled out of her mouth. Eventually the twitching
stopped. She hung there for a minute or so as her body stopped swinging before
the camera cut.
The next scene showed
the naked bodies of the girls Laura had just seen being murdered as they were
dumped in various fields and ditches in pre-dawn light. It made the point well.
Laura was a smart girl
and knew there were three girls she had seen being snatched and tortured but
not killed. And she knew exactly what their deaths entailed. I saw her eyes
darting around the cell, looking at the three alcoves I’d indicated earlier as
the film cut to show the desperate face of Anna Sowerby. Even though it was a
decade since she vanished, her face was still instantly recognizable. It had
been plastered over so many posters, so many TV bulletins. There had even been
“10 years on” features just the week before I grabbed Laura.
However, this was not
the well-known school photo of a beaming 15-year-old brunette. Anna’s face had
been brutally battered. One eye was swollen shut, the other badly bruised. Her
face was covered in cuts and bruises and a trail of dried blood led from her
obviously broken nose. The shot was closely framed around her head and bare
shoulders, but as it pulled back you could see she was completely naked. Her
wrists were chained to the wall behind her and she was screaming, pleading,
begging for mercy as one by one I carefully cemented the bricks into place in
front of her. About half the wall had been built while she was
unconscious, but now she had come round and was in doubt about what was
happening to her.
Until now there had
been a largely musical soundtrack to the tape, but it abruptly cut out to be
replaced by the real audio. Anna’s screams filled the basement, just as they
had done a decade earlier, as the wall slowly grew higher in front of her.
“PLEASE! OH, GOD, NO!
PLEASE DON’T DO THIS! I’LL BE GOOD! I’LL BE A GOOD GIRL! I WON’T TELL ANYONE!”
She went on, tears streaming down her face, her body jerking as she pulled
against the chain holding her wrists tightly to the wall.
“It’s alright, Anna,” I
said, out of shot as I fetched more bricks. “Calm down or you’ll knock over
your water bowl, and then you’ll die in an even more unpleasant fashion.”
The begging, pleading
and wailing continued as I bricked the innocent schoolgirl into her tomb until
there was only room for one more block. She had pressed her face as close to it
as she could, still screaming at me to stop as the last beam of light she’d
ever see fell on her cheek. On the tape all you could see was her right eye as
I carefully lined the hole with cement.
“Bye, Anna,” I said.
“It was nice knowing you.”
“NOOOOO!” came the inevitable shriek, only to be reduced to a barely
audible muffled moan as the brick slid into place.
I checked the monitor
that was keeping an eye on Laura as the scene cut to 21-year-old student Holly
Broadfoot. Laura was staring straight ahead, transfixed in horror. Holly –
blonde, classically pretty — was in a similar predicament to Anna, chained to
the wall, naked, covered in blood, begging and pleading as the bricks went in
one by one. Again, the sound cut in at just the right moment so that Laura
heard her final screams before she was lost forever.
I’d seen many
expressions on Laura’s face over the past seven weeks, but none matched the
terror that gripped her now. It gave me an idea.
The tape moved on, this
time to my favourite part. It was little Chloe, my youngest victim. She had
only just turned 14 when I snatched as she walked to school one morning. We had
so much fun together. She honestly thought that if she complied and did
everything I asked of her I’d let her go. It was so funny when I showed her the
snuff tapes on her final night and she finally realised that she was going to
die in a deeply unpleasant manner. That’s when she stopped co-operating, and
that’s why ended up behind the wall. We’d been together for seven months, so I
was sad to see her go, but those were the rules.
Laura looked on as the
camera zoomed in on Chloe’s face. Unlike the other girls, she was small enough
to be chained spread-eagled to the back wall of the alcove. A bright red rubber
ball gag was strapped into her mouth. There were to be no bowls of water for
this little girl. She tried to pull at her chains as I walled her up, but she
was so tightly restrained she could barely move. I built the wall carefully so
that her face was visible to the camera right until the last minute. As soon as
I was done and Chloe was entombed, I reached out of shot and placed a large
clock on the wall in front of the camera. Then the footage began to fast
forward, quick enough to make time fly by but still slow enough for Laura to
see that the hands only went all the way around twice before I entered the shot
again, carrying an unconscious teenage girl dressed in a slutty school uniform.
I checked the monitor as Laura realised it was her own arrival she was watching. He eyes
immediately darted to the wall to her right, where the clock was still ticking
away. Laura had entered the dungeon just two days after Chloe had been bricked
up – the girl really had died on the other side of the wall while she was down
there.
She looked back at the
screen just in time to see me stripping her naked and wrapping a chain around
her throat. I grabbed a handful of her hair and held her face up to the camera,
just to make the point, then let her limp body slump
back to the floor. Then came the final cut – it was Laura again, but this time
it was the live night-vision feed of her, eyes wide. She screamed, over and
over and over again. I turned off the speakers, turned off the video screen,
whispered “Sweet dreams” over the PA and headed to bed.
++++++++
I left her down there,
alone in the dark with only her racing mind for company for 24 hours or so. I
wanted her to really stew. When I finally returned for one of our regular sex
sessions (anal this time, with Laura’s wrists chained to her ankles), I didn’t
even mention our previous chat. She started begging for mercy, somewhat predictably
and tediously, alluding to her imminent fate but I swiftly silenced her with
the good-old rubber ball gag.
I took my time raping
her this time, wanted to make the most of it as I knew it would be the
penultimate time I screwed her. When I was done I turned my sobbing little
captive around so that she could see the video screen and turned it on with my
remote. I sat back, feet up on her back, as the clip I had taped off the news
earlier that night came on. “Day 50 in the hunt for missing student Laura Topham”
was the headline, followed by a charming little scene in which the whole Topham
family appeared outside their lovely family home to plead for the return of
their missing member.
“Is that your sister?”
I asked as the camera focused on the face of a pretty little brunette.
Laura turned her head
and glared at me through matted hair, a line of drool pooling at the side of
her well-gagged mouth.
“Of course, I forgot
about the gag. Just grunt once for yes and twice for no.”
She said nothing, just
looking back to the screen. I stood up and kicked her, hard, in the crotch. She
screamed a muffled scream and fell onto her side.
“Once
for yes and twice for no.
Right now, otherwise you’re in the hole for a week.”
She grunted once, but her face betrayed the fact that her mind was elsewhere. She was dwelling on the fact that I had suggested she might be alive for another week at least.
“I want to know old she is. I’m going to start whipping and you’re going to count the strokes in your head. When I get to the right number for her age, you’re allowed to scream. Do it too early and, like I said, it’s the hole for you. I can check myself very easily, so it’s not worth lying.”
I removed the gag and picked up a long, cruel leather bullwhip. It was hard to really get it moving in the confines of the cellar, but I’d had plenty of practice, as the welts on Laura’s back testified. She grunted and moaned as the strokes bit into her buttocks once again, grimacing, wheezing, but not screaming out. On the 14th stroke she let out a long, primal scream and drew herself into the smallest ball she could manage given her restraints.
“14, eh?” I replied. “Well, she’s got more of a future than you, Laura, as she’s going to live for a while yet. You, however, are going to die. Right now.”
I rolled her onto her back and climbed between her legs. She was trying to fight, but the whipping had taken out of her what little strength she still had. Instead she resorted to her usual, annoying, whiny begging. When Chloe begged it gave me a hard-on, when Laura did it I just got angry.
I rammed my cock into her pussy, hitting her repeatedly across the face until she fell silent. As she did so I grabbed the clear plastic bag and forced it over head, closing it tight with a length of nylon cord.
Her eyes widened as I continued to fuck her. Her wrists pulled against their chains in a frantic but futile attempt to save herself. He mouth gaped at the last of her oxygen as the bag became misty with condensation and slowly closed around her face. I continued to pump into her, never losing eye contact as her struggles became weaker. Her eyelids became heavy and closed, he breath coming in short, ragged bursts. She stopped moving just as I came. It was over.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
Laura slowly regained consciousness, her eyes flickering back to life. It took her a moment to take in her surroundings, but once she did so her reaction was instant. She tried to scream, but the gag took care of that. She tried to pull forward, but her wrists were chained securely to the wall. She kicked out, but her legs couldn’t reach far enough to do any damage. All she could do was look on in horror as I slowly built the wall up in front of her, bricking her into the alcove forever. I couldn’t help but laugh, not least because the terror in her eyes was nothing compared to the terror in the eyes of her 14-year-old sister, naked, gagged and chained up in the main basement, forced to watch as I condemned her big sister to a slow, lonely death.
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