CHAPTER 17 – The Organization’s Shrink


“My Psychologist’s name is Jeannie Collins. She has a good sense of her role, and to the right people, speaks of herself as my corporate cunt. She has been with me long enough to have earned a promotion. I knew of her interest in deviance, which was her very interesting Doctoral Thesis.

She was a promising recruit from the moment I met her. I checked out the range of her interests a couple of months ago by taking her to an underground New York club that exceeds all normal social and sexual boundaries. Not many people know of or have access to the Dire Deeds Club, but those who do have a penchant for sadism.

“Three gorgeous twenty-year-old photography models, all of them single mothers of beautiful 7-year-old daughters, were ‘hired’ to be the entertainment. In New York anything can be procured, for a price. These young ladies, we were told, used the same child-care service, and so were easily identified. The rest was simple.

“They were hired to work nude, which is commonplace in the modeling industry. This special engagement was not unusual for the mothers, and when they were told the job required their daughters to join them on stage, nude, they thought nothing of involving their pretty little girls, of course for the right price.

Nothing had been mentioned about them doing a show, or about it becoming rough for them all. That information was need-to-know, and expecting that could have compromised their ready cooperation. They knew only that there would be an audience, and both they and their little daughters would be modeling on a stage, nude.

This condition was not new to them. Frequently fine art photographers like to do sessions with mothers and daughters, and clothing is never part of that art form. Connoisseurs will pay top prices for a large framed print of naked children, modestly posed but with their gender identifier on full display, with the assumption that inclusion of the mother validates the image, and that alone explained the higher fee.

“At the beginning of the show the three young women and their young daughters were all on stage. The mothers were required to begin by undressing completely, with the exception that their spike heels must remain on. Those are standard dress for models, unless otherwise stated, nude or in clothing, and they always wear expensive very high open spikes for work.

“As photography models, they automatically kept their pubic area and armpits free of any sign of hair. The beautiful and poised young women were instructed to remove their clothing first. Music was provided, and they all did an improvised striptease. Once they were naked, they had to undress their daughters, who ended up both naked and barefoot.

“Both the mothers and daughters had sufficient experience to know they must keep their bared vaginas visible to the audience. The children had not been dressed for modeling, since their mothers had been told in advance that they and their pretty young daughters were going to be working completely nude.

“Once naked, the grade 2 daughters were lifted onto their mother’s back, and each was given a cat of nine tails. The kids were excited at first, and readily did as they were told, each lashing at the other two girls, until they realized that they too were targets. To aid their daughters in the violent competition, their human mounts constantly repositioned themselves to allow their daughters better access to the others.

“The children whipped the other two hysterically screaming kids, and of course their adult mounts received extensive collateral damage. They kept up the bizarre fight for nearly 20 minutes, until first one and then the second little girl finally dropped to the stage, losing their tentative grip on their naked human ‘horses’. Those two failures produced a winner.

“The next part of the evening was quite different. They attached strap-on dildos, adult size, to the young mothers, and they were forced to mount their kneeling little grade 2 daughters, gradually driving the inch-thick, 7 inch long plastic dongs into the little virgin cuntlets of their sharply screaming children, painfully deflowering their little girls before an appreciative audience.

“The spectators were shouting encouragement as they watched the sobbing young mothers fucking their little girls with the monstrous dildos. It was a highly stimulating and outrageous act, exactly the kind of degrading spectacle the jaded audience had come to see.

“Some members of the audience were new, as was my guest, but many of them were regulars, wealthy yuppies who viewed this kind of bizarre weekend entertainment as a rewarding way to spend money that came easily to them. If gross and sadistic sexual performances were available, dehumanizing the performers, then these yuppies were willing to pay the price to witness it. In New York an eager audience can be found for any kind of degenerate act.”

Jackson noticed that Helen’s breathing was shallow and her respiration rate accelerated as she listened. She was getting turned on. Her ruby lips were parted, and she licked them frequently. He was pleased to see that he had gained her full attention. From what he knew of her, his story took her beyond anything she had experienced to date, but he was equally certain he would be able to extend her interests substantially.

“When all three women had driven the pink plastic dongs into their children’s vaginas the full length, they withdrew them and were required to now use the same devices to bugger their little girls. The children’s rectums were dry, but their cunt fluids and blood lubricated the curved dildos, and that was considered sufficient for the task at hand.

“All of the women were hesitant to make the anal insertion of the large dildos into the virgin bum holes of their pretty little naked daughters, as none of this was part of their agreement with the club. The stagehand who had done the lifting now put a horsewhip to work on them, raising much more visible welts on the tender meat of the highly distressed ladies.

“Their knees were spread and bent as they were beautifully straining in their heels with nowhere to run, taking fresh blows from the whips, which were raising much larger angry welts on their exposed flesh than their daughters had managed. This fresh, more aggressive assault on their fully exposed lady-meat promptly changed their minds.

“It was a contest to see which of the three young women could bury the dildo its full length through the tight openings into the hysterically screaming little girl colons. Because of gradual tapers on the plastic shafts, half depth was the best they could manage without a struggle.

“From that point onward the whip was liberally applied to the hindmost, removing any resistant from the sobbing nude child-humping mothers, and the merciless brutality of the whips brought the required cooperation. The invading artificial penises one by one found their way the full distance home in the immature colons.

“When all dildos were seated to their full depth, the women were instructed to unstrap them, leaving them buried between the slender buttocks of their little girls, with the straps hanging loose like disorganized tails. Now the youngsters got a well-deserved chance to rest while their mothers were given a new and equally distressing task.

“A pair of stagehands strapped the women to posts, with their arms overhead and a 4-foot rod strapped to their ankles to hold them wide apart. The women received what was essentially a severe belly-whipping, with care taken to include their breasts and vaginas in the hot flailing action.

“After 15 minutes of merciless whipping, all three of the ladies had screamed their throats raw. They were now provided with some protection, but not the kind they would have wished for. Their daughters were now bound to them, their backs to their mothers’ brutally whipped tummies so that their own tender bellies and cuntlets were fully exposed.

“With dual screaming targets, it was time to involve the audience. When I had enquired about how the evening would unfold, I had arranged that Jeannie would be among the first to participate. She climbed onto the stage along with two other participants, and each was given a whip.

“She undid the buttons on the front of her blouse to allow freedom of her ample firm breasts, and the three eager audience members began lashing at the exposed tummies of the little girls. The flesh of the small daughters was more tender than the meat on their mothers, and angry welts were quickly raised.

“Jeannie found that a vertical blow to the child’s cuntlet also caught the horror-opened and swollen cunt of the young mother. She found that by cross striking the already angry raised welts, she could easily break skin and meat with sufficiently strong blows, which she capably delivered.

“The bound duo’s instantaneous screams told her she had hit pay dirt. The mother and daughter screams became more shrill, more piercing than any of those of the other two pair being whipped. I was pleased to see my gorgeous psychologist guest was reluctant to give up the whip when the next person’s turn arrived.

“Grudgingly accepting the disruption to her fun, Jeannie was happy she had been given the chance to realize a life-long fantasy, as she described it to me when she returned to our table. I now had an excellent measure of her interests, standards and moral values.

The gorgeous young psychiatrist had no qualms about actively participating in the torture of pretty little girls and their mothers. In her time with me I would gain a much stronger sense of her ability to deliver when working with the kind of shows I was about to produce.

“The next necessary step in her development required no action on my part, but would be automatic. She told me that night, with her knowing grin, that her only regret was that she was not able go the distance on that stage, and take the life of one of the charming 7-year-old girls.

The semi-private New York club was known to do occasional snuff shows, but only when the audience paid a hefty premium to attend. This particular event had not been a snuff evening. I shared her regret, and promised the opportunity would present itself before long.”

Helen had given up on any pretense of decorum, and her hand was under her belt. Her fingers were busy bringing herself to orgasm, her lust exceeding any pretense of any self-control. Jackson was pleased to see the woman he had selected to head the domestic house-party kiddie fights would be certain to increase the violence and cruelty of the bouts.



CHAPTER 18 – Playing Hardball


“As this new idea has grown,” Jackson said, “I’ve put my mind to what name we might give it. It needs to be something that infers what we’re about, without making it obvious to those who have no reason to know, and I think it should roll off the tongue comfortably.

“I think Lamby Pie Productions should do the trick.”

“That’s cute,” Helen said, “but let’s shorten it by miss-spelling both words. I think Lami Pi Productions would be just a bit ambiguous and look good. People in the know will have no doubt about what it’s about.”

“I love it,” Martha contributed. “That name could cover both the domestic home parties and the bolder activities at the more unreserved retreat.”

“At the retreat we create,” Jackson added, giving his attention to Helen, “extra-special events will be the standard, which will by its very nature mean a particularly high turnover of our young talent. We will require a disposal system that takes care of the carcasses of the kids who don’t survive our sports. It might be fairly high volume, as it will have to work at the same rate as new children arrive.

“With the production of little girl carcasses with the inclusion of their death as part of the sport, Lami Pi Demolition could be a more descriptive new name,” Jackson suggested with a grin.

“That’s a great name, but probably a bit too out front,” Martha said. “I think Lami Pi Productions is going to be our best bet.”
“When a kiddie kill happens, we’ll want to make certain both blood and gore are a significant part of it, to maximize the impact for our guests. They’ll love seeing apparently innocent little girls destroying their peers. That will be the major charm of the retreat, and also what attracts wealthy customers to enjoy a weekend with us.

“The idea of nude little girls doing terminal damage to each other is not a new concept. I’ve heard D-Ring Inc. has kiddies killed for sport in their eastern European and Far East casinos. I’m sure you’ve seen the ‘Honduras Toddler Hardball’ video, and know of what I’m speaking.”

“Everyone who matters has seen Honduras Toddler Hardball,” she countered with a knowing smile, “and I’ve seen half a dozen fight videos those same two young girls participated in before that one, which was for obvious reasons their last. That Hardball episode is widely considered to be a classic kiddie snuff video. The producer is a brilliant woman.”

Jackson and Martha were surprised to hear that remarkable video was a female production.

“That video is not Honduran, you know,” Helen continued, “but American, made in Florida, in the jungle near Layton, down on the keys. The producer wanted it to look like a foreign production. It was well conceived, and certainly looked tropical.

“I don’t know how she got those two little girls, because neither of their mothers was present, but they were perfect for the part, with fight experience, although there was only struggle, not fighting involved in this one. I mentioned I’ve seen work they were in.

“They were from Miami, and were probably Cubans. The way the Cubans raise their kids, they turn out to be terrific scrappers, and those two little beauties were fearless. They just weren’t prepared to survive that kind of tug-of-war. It was beautifully conceived and executed.”

“It was very professionally done,” Jackson c ommented.

“I was one of 4 there in the role of consultants,” Helen said, “but all of us who are white were behind the cameras. The 4 of us were brought in as advisors, so she had a pretty good budget. We hired an audience of Mexican and Cuban American extras, not Hondurans.

“These extras were recruited from Miami kiddie fight fans who had put their own daughters into the ring, to ensure both their interest and silence. She had a wonderful vision, and wanted it to go perfectly. We were all committed to the outcome, and as you saw, we made sure it was outstanding.

“There are several other kiddie-snuff videos out there on the market that are equally compelling. I got to work on a few of them. The best are those that are most shocking. Have you seen the urban alley video Romanian Kiddie Ripper? That one really is Eastern European.

“The male actor, a real psychopath, did a cute 10-year-old kid in that one, using a surgical knife to ensure a clean slice of the kid’s belly. She was a feisty little bitch, and one of the prettiest European kids I’ve ever seen. Kids from that part of the world also make great fighters, but at 10 she was a bit old for the kiddie fight sport.

“She really put up a hell of a fight, but he got the better of her in a hold from behind. He got her naked and ripped her from cunt to breastbone. She screamed like a banshee. Her guts covered the cobblestones of that alley. I think it was made in Budapest or Prague. Or it might have been done in Bucharest. The alleys in those old cities look the same to me.

“Or perhaps you’ve viewed Live Crock Bait? I was hired to find the three little girls who’s guts were spilled by the crocks. As you might imagine, the visuals for those videos are extremely graphic. The outcomes are also quite predictable. That gory crock one was done with a male producer, up on the St. Johns River in north Florida. We didn’t have to look far for the ravenous crocks!”

Jackson’s penis stiffened an extra notch, visibly poking his pants outward. Those videos would be located in the Terminus folder if Martha had seen them, and they were not there, so he knew both he and his wife were both in the dark on those two. Helen was proving to be more developed than he had guessed. Having experience with the production of kiddie snuff videos made her a more valuable asset.

“I have not,” he said, “but look forward to you showing them to us. I’m glad to hear you are acquainted with that kind of extreme production, as I will want you to arrange a few home party pre-planned “accidents” to occur, with the attendees all properly vetted and expecting the over-the-top action. They won’t pay extra without expecting extra value. Also, we don’t want to alienate any existing fans who set limits.

“You will have to select special performers for those events, and if you can’t find a pair of mothers who wish to make that kind of sacrifice, I will be in a position to provide suitable disposable combatants and surrogate mothers for you. You will have to plan very carefully, as you know that their blood will be on your hands, not ours.”

“I can handle such situations,” Helen said, “and of course will require some costs to cover arrangements and disposal, as well as suitable compensation. That’s a fair step past pampering swollen black eyes, bleeding noses and scratched and bruised little pussies.”

“I take it you accept. You will be answering directly to Martha, who will also be working with our retreat manager and me. I’ll also want you to get onboard the people that make the videos for distribution. Some of them will require more training, but the basic product isn’t too bad.

“Your official title will be CEO of, what shall we call it, Sparkling Events?”

“Let’s be a bit more descriptive, without giving away what we are doing. How does Elementary Disputes, or how does Rumpus Rows sound? They won’t mean much to most people, but mothers of young children will know exactly what they’re about, particularly if they participate in the scene.”

“Elementary Disputes works for me. It covers the age range, up to 11 but usually much younger, and disputes speaks for itself. Rumpus sounds like too much fun. Do you agree with that, Martha?”

“I like it. Row works for me too, but the image of Rumpus somehow suggests too much padding. Ring Rows is a bit goofy, so let’s settle on Elementary Disputes.”

“Or Elementary Rows,” Helen replied, demonstrating her flexibility. It would be wise to let Martha have her say. “The word Elementary covers the age group of most of the kids, and Rows is self-explanatory.”

“Perfect,” said Jackson. “And to compensate you for your time and troubles, how about a starting salary of $750 Thousand.” His tone made it a statement, not a question. “Plus a travel and accommodation allowance, and costs. That should work. After a couple of successful growth years, we can look at negotiating and increase for you, and if you do well, also expanding your responsibilities.”

“I’m fine with that,” Helen said. That put her on even ground with Harry, who drew that much from his firm each year. The remainder went into an offshore account, as payment to a dummy firm he owned that entirely sheltered it from any form of American taxes.

“You will want to begin with a friendly take-over of all of the KidFight Clubs across America. That should take a few months, and require a staff. I’ll supply you with that. You draw up the plan for acquiring all rights, and a timetable. My guess is it should take about 6 months.

“That sounds a bit tight, but I’m sure it can be done. There could be some people who don’t want to let go, and they could create issues for us There are a couple I know who could put up quite a fight.”

“My thought exactly.” Jackson agreed with her. “Getting it done may require the removal, I’m speaking of arranging the quiet disappearance of some of the key party organizers who may resist giving up power. My staff can manage that for you. You set it up, we’ll take care of the rest.

“The timing should be staggered by weeks to disguise any possible connection to the removals. Because these private kiddie fight parties are not visible to the public, it would be unlikely anyone would know these people would have any connection.

“You identify the people who will be a problem, and my staff will ensure the circumstances are quite different for each, pointing them to a variety of criminal activities. That will likely limit ongoing investigations. The last thing we need is the wrong people asking the wrong questions.”

Martha was forming a new respect for the depth and breadth of her husband’s knowledge and abilities. She was now convinced this was going to work. There need be no limits on what they could do. This was getting very exciting. Helen shared her new enthusiasm.

“Do you fully understand your position in our newly formed organization?” Jackson asked.

“I’m sure I do,” Helen answered. She had been around the block more than once, and she was confident she could handle this assignment.

“I’ll need you to demonstrate your acceptance of the position.” He turned to his wife. “Martha, I want you to raise your skirt and remove your panties.” Martha readily complied. “Helen, I need you on your hands and knees. I understand you favor women, and I believe Martha requires servicing.”

Helen’s face blanched. She had never been forced to do anything in her life, and certainly nothing so degrading. She preferred her sexual activity to be as private as possible. She had been a pampered child, and she had married a man who pampered her. She was definitely not ready for such a sudden and revolting change in treatment.

Her view of Jackson was that he was an intellectual, and she had never considered he might revert to this form of physical persuasion. When dealing with women who were getting cold feet, she would as a last resort use a mild form of coercion, but preferred to make the bitches want more cruelty to their lovely little daughters.

Expecting her hesitation, Jackson said, “Are you telling me you don’t want your new job, along with your subservient role to Martha? I’m afraid the only way to remove yourself from this situation, now that you are party to our plans, is for me to have my people arrange for and promptly execute your permanent disappearance. You always have the choice.”

Helen was reluctant but not stupid. She knew Jackson would not hesitate in eliminating her permanently if she refused his demand. She set her glass, now empty, on the side table, got to her knees and put her mouth to Martha’s offered vagina. Thank God the bitch showers regularly, and keeps her cunt shaved clean, she thought. Eating hair pie is sickening!

“And I’ll need you to spread your legs and lift your pretty ass,” Jackson said. She reluctantly complied, assuming he wanted to admire her beautiful vagina and cute puckered rectum seated deep in the hollow of her groin. When he lifted her skirt he was pleased to see she wore no panties. Dykes like this one seldom did, as they found them inconvenient when grasping an impromptu chance for a tryst with another woman.

“Remember, you both report to me. I’m going to demonstrate my dominance.” He opened his fly, spit on her anus, and pressed the flared head of his penis against the warmth of her tightly closed rectum. He could feel her anal sphincter being squeezing closed, as if she thought she had the power to prevent what was coming.

Helen had never experienced anal sex in her life, although it was her husband Harry’s favorite form of intercourse. He had never suggested it, as he preferred plowing the tight rectums of little boys. She relented, and could not contain a squeal as his stiff shaft pressed painfully into her.

For nearly 10 minutes Jackson pumped his penis slowly in to its full depth, and then pulled it back so that the flared head encountered the inside of the ring of her rectum. He continued with the slow piston movement for the whole time, until at last he pulled his cock free of her rear grip.

“Are you satisfied, Martha?” he asked.

“That will do for now,” his wife answered. Helen gratefully removed her face from Martha’s crotch. She was wrong in thinking the humiliating ordeal was over.

“I know you have little interest in having your vagina plumbed with a penis, but you do have one other convenient fuck hole. Turn your beautiful face to me.”

Helen was filled with disgust, loathing and shame. She had not prepared her colon by flushing it before she had accepted Martha’s unexpected invitation. Jackson wanted her to take his crap-covered penis into her mouth, smeared with her own offal. Her mysterious disappearance, caused by her death at the hands of his henchmen, was not a viable option.

“You’re my bitch, Helen. Get your mouth open, now!”

Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth and took in his penis, holding her breath and pressing her tongue down as flat as she could, trying desperately not to let the crud-covered penis touch the inside of her gaping oral cavity. Jackson grasped the back of her head with both hands, and forced it onto him with enough force to drive the large head of his firm erection down into her throat.

Now her shit on his shaft was the least of her worries. His penis blocked her access to air. Unless she quickly pleased him, she would quickly die from lack of air. She thought of biting his penis, but fortunately realized she did not have the strength to sever it, and if she did it would still block her throat. She was in a desperate situation.

Jackson thrust rapidly, and not wanting his new bitch to suffocate, promptly began to ejaculate down Helen’s throat. She had no recourse but to swallow his spunk, unless she wanted it in her lungs. Her new boss had now taken full command, and gave her no doubt she was totally mastered. Now she was indeed his bitch.

“You’ll want a refill on that scotch,” he said as he pulled out of her throat. She gagged, coughed, made a disgusted look from the taste of her own muck in her mouth, and then got up and walked to a washroom. Jackson and Martha watched her go, reading her body language.

There was the usual swagger to her walk that said she was back in control of her body. She was still wearing her spike heels, and her buttocks had the familiar sway with each step. Her shapely, still tight ass moved in the manner of a woman who is used to being watched, highly erotic, but with some of the spring gone from her step.

This was the apparently confident but also slightly hesitant walk of a confirmed subdued bitch. Jackson had her measure, and had been on target in his taking control of the capable cunt. She was now his bitch, as much as was his wife, and they now both had control of the woman who had just become their willing associate.

Martha nodded her approval, and Jackson smiled at her. They were both quite satisfied. Helen was a find, and they knew she would make them a lot of money. They were confident that the home party division of their new and exciting enterprise Lami Pi Productions was going to be in good hands.