Part 2


Wow.

Today was certainly not a ho hum sort of day.

I looked at the little girl strapped to the table. Helpless. Naked. Vulberable. And then I looked at my bandaged finger. I bet my finger felt a little bit like her at this time.

I had thought she had given up. I had truly thought I had broken her, at least a little bit. But if I had, she clearly had second thoughts. And they were in the form of a renewed fight. Tied up. Bound. And fighting. Amazing.

I walked over to the head of the cold steel frame she was strapped to. I'll admit. I was a little afraid. This little creature had caused me significant harm, and I'll admit, I kind of respected that. I'm surprised I was able to get her to let go of her bite. I got lucky, for sure.

I stared at her face. Her breathing had slowed. She seemed to be at greater peace with her situation. I wonder if she had felt slightly less powerless. Though all of her limbs were stretched outwards, and though she was naked, she could still hurt her enemy. If I were her, I'd be feeling pretty darn confident. Like I said, I was impressed.

I caught her glance at me. I could detect some fear in her eyes, which caused her to look away after a brief second, but I could also detect some defiance as well, which is why she was able to look at me for as long as she did.

I was going to punish her for this. But not now. I don't know why. I just didn't think it was going to take us anywhere.

"I'm not going to punish you for what you did," I said, "At least not now. What you did was wrong, and certainly you are going to receive a punishment for it, but what I need from you right now is information," I said.

"You're still going to have to eat shit. There's no way around that. That's what you chose, and that's what you're going to get."

I grabbed the dildo originally intended to go into her pussy and I showed it to Sandra.

"This, is going up your ass."

I know what you're thinking. I'm supposed to extract information from her. Shouldn't I be asking her where all the snipers are located at and what her role is on the enemy? Shouldn't I be taking names now? And only if she refuses giving me the information should I then torture her?

Well. Yes.

But in my experience, it didn't usually take too much to get a person to crack.

I didn't want to make it too easy for myself. I wanted some challenge. I wanted to show her just how much she could take, and then get ready for the fight. So I was going to teach her about rape. Anal style.

I licked my lips. Could her tiny asshole even take a dildo? It was around eight inches long to the base (most of it probably wasn't going to go in), and about one and a half inches in diameter. And I certainly wasn't going to lube it.

I pressed the tip on her ass.

Fuck.

It was too flimsy to push in from the base.

So I gripped the middle of the rubber dong and pushed even harder. If I hadn't warmed up her hole with my finger earlier, and if the rim wasn't coated with a thin layer of her poop, I don't think this would have worked, but after a good amount of pressure, the tip did finally pop in, through the sphincter, which gripped the dildo very tightly.

I could hear Sandra grunt as the tip entered, and I could see her clench her butt cheeks tightly. I could see that her position, laying down flat on her back, with her lower back arched and her butt cheeks clenched, that it was going to be fairly difficult to really make any progress if I was going to push this thing past her internal sphincter, which should be much tighter than her external.

So I released her right leg, and pulled it towards the upper right post of the metal frame she laid on. I did the same with her left leg, so that both of her ankles were adjacent to her ears. Bent this way, her bottom and asshole were fully exposed to me and whatever I wanted to do.

"Do you know what rape is, little girl?" I asked her.

Sandra made the briefest of contact with her eyes to mine. I could tell she did not know. But I could also tell she was worried, given how quickly she shut her eyes.

"Well. You're about to find out."

I pushed the tip of the dildo in again, which went in easier than the first time.

I knew that if I pushed too hard too quickly, that I might damage her rectum. I certainly didn't want any permanent damage. There would be some temporary damage though. Her sphincter had never been stretched like this before, and for as long as I was going to stretch it either. If anything, I was probably going to strain her sphincter muscle. Over and over again. And I accepted the possibility that she was going to be somewhat incontinent for the foreseeable future. If I had to have her wear a diaper, so be it.

So I applied pressure. Constant pressure, as I twisted the dildo slowly. And I could tell she was clenching. Squeezing not just her butt cheeks, but also squeezing her sphincter. Resisting me. That she was fighting me was making this struggle all the more interesting.

But it was only a matter of time. The tip of the dildo would inevitably push through the external and internal sphincters, and the friction that her sphincters were providing would eventually give, given my constant twisting and pushing.

People often mistakenly think that the rectum is a hollow straight tube. But this couldn't be further from the truth. Once you push past the sphincters, there are several more barriers to transverse: the transverse rectal folds. And there would be about three of them until I would reach the rectosigmoid junction, pretty much the stop sign in anybody's rectum. At that point her intestines would take a sharp 90 degree turn to the left, and only the flimsiest of dildos at that point (and I had a few in my desk) could make that turn. This rubber dildo I was holding wasn't one of them (oh well). In any case, I wanted this thing to go in as deep as it could. So I applied constant pressure, twisting along the way, and maneuvering the tip a little bit in every direction, so I could nudge past each rectal fold.

I knew that this was going to hurt. I wanted it to hurt. And as I pushed, I could hear Sanda's grunts, and moans of displeasure as I'm sure every inch deeper the dilo went in was a novel feeling of violation and perversity unbeknownst to her.

I was ambitious. I mean, this was her first experience of rape. I wanted it to be everything that she had never imagined. I didn't want it to be just an act of violation against her will. I already did that with my finger. I wanted her to be violated, powerless to stop it, and I wanted her to not just feel shame and disgust, but I wanted her to feel pain in ways she had never known before. And I wanted it to happen. Over. And over. And over again. I wanted it to last long enough for her to get over the initial shock of the penetration, to feel the repetitive thrusts, to dread the next thrust. To wonder when it was going to stop. I wanted to give her time to think about why she was here, what was happening to her, and what she could do to make it end sooner. And then to realize that she wouldn't be able to make it end sooner. That she was impotent. At my full mercy.

For a 70 pound, four and a half foot girl, you can't expect her to have as large a rectum as an adult. So I didn't force the dildo in too deep. I pushed as deep as I could until I met some fairly stiff resistance. Bingo. I had hit the part where her rectum ended. I could tell this little girl was bravely holding back a visceral scream. A pitiful moan, interrupted by gasps of air, was all that I heard from her. There was no hiding it. She was in a great deal of pain. And to top it off, we weren't using any lube. Think about that. This wasn't fun at all for her. I bet that she was feeling a slow burn from the friction of the dildo on her anus, a sharp tearing pain from the stretch of her sphincter, and a dull ache from the deep penetration.

Six inches I pushed it in. Wow. Not bad. For a little girl. There was still two more inches left to the base of the dildo. I don't imagine that I could have gotten six inches if this was a more rigid dildo, but it was fairly rubbery and flexible, so I suppose it was bending slightly at the rectosigmoid junction.

At this point I started to pull the dildo back out, but her anus was so tightly wrapped around the dildo, I could see that her anus began to evert ever so slightly. I laughed to myself. This was going to be so unpleasant for her. I would be suprised if she didn't leave this anal rape session with multiple tiny fissures in her anus. And what more fun those would create. Anything going up her ass would hurt like hell after that, and to top it off, they would swell a little too, making her hole that much tighter.

It took a full ten seconds to pull the dildo fully out. I looked at the dildo. It had some poop on it, and a little blood.

I smiled to myself, as I began the process to push the dildo back in.

The first few thrusts were slow, but I got quicker and quicker as her hole began to open up and dilate. Each time I fully removed the dildo. I wanted her hole to relax as much as possible before accepting the full girth of the dildo each thrust.

"Oh god," she cried out, "Please stop! Oh god please it hurts so much. I can't take it, please!"

She begged and begged. I paid no attention. I noticed that she never offered to tell me anything. I liked that.

At first she only moaned and groaned, and paused only to beg some more.

But then after the first minute, I could see her start to cry, and continue to beg.

But I kept going.

The dildo was now going in fairly easily, so I could speed up now. I desperately wanted to fuck her, but shit, I knew that I couldn't. Not yet at least.

And so, picture this. A crying, begging little girl, taking an adult sized dildo deep up her ass. Dildo covered in shit and blood at this point. But I kept going. I kept pulling the dildo out completely and pushing it as deep as it could go. I kept doing this. Ten minutes into the rape Sandra had stopped begging. You know what that meant to me? It meant she no longer felt like she had the power to persuade me to stop. It was an acceptance of her fate. Her fate of pain and humiliation.

I kept going.

And going.

When my arm became sore and tired, I switched arms. And when the other arm got sore and tired I switched back. I fucked her for so long that both of my arms were tired, burning from the repetitive motion, and sore. If my arms were hurting, I bet the center of her ass was on fire.

Twenty five minutes into the rape Sanda had stopped sobbing. The shit had dried up. Fresh blood still streaking the dildo, keeping her passage semi-lubed.

Forty minutes into the rape she had stopped sobbing and was doing that weird thing where if you cry too much you start to sound like you're having PTSD mixed with hiccups.

I had pretty much turned her into a toddler at this point.

I bet she couldn't remember the last time she cried this long this hard.

But it could get oh so much worse. If you've ever heard a newborn cry, now those guys CRY. They cry like its the end of the world. They cry so loud, they sound like they're screaming and crying at the same time. It's a cry filled with horror, despair, and fear. Newborns do that. And adults that go through me do that too. And I will remind you, I had yet to make Sandra do that. I didn't want to totally break her just yet.

I fucked her for a good hour.

When I pulled out, her anus was a gaping hole, and the dildo was crusted with wet on dried feces and streaked with a layer of blood. Now was my chance to pounce.

"Now you tell me, little girl, everything you know. I want to know what you do with the enemy, what your job is. I want to know all the names of everybody you work with. I want to know the positions of all the soldiers you help. Everything. And if you don't tell me, I'm going to have you lick the shit and blood off this dildo."

Sandra was exhausted.

I was just getting amped.

She looked at me with despair, but surprisingly, she didn't say a word.

I bet she was wondering how I was going to get her to lick this filthy dildo clean. I set it aside. It was only going to get harder as all of the shit around it dried.

"Fine then, little girl. Suit yourself. I actually prefer you not to say anything. It makes it more fun for me."

I reached into my drawer to pull out several long needles. These were no ordinary needles. They were as thick as sewing needles. Thick sewing needles. So they were going to hurt. I quickly steriled a whole set of them with alcohol. I grabbed a piece of cork from my drawer as well.

I then showed her the needle.

"My child," I creepily asked,"How are you with needles?"

The little girl looked horrifed. Obviously nobody liked needles, but it appeared as if this one hated them more than the average person.

"Well this needle is going straight into you nipple. And I think it goes without saying that it's going to hurt like hell."

She looked at me again. Abject fear, but still an ounce of defiance that kept her trembling lips together, and her vocal cords motionless.

"Suit yourself."

I grabbed the cork, and buttressing one side of her nipple with the cork, I began a very slow push of the needle into her nipple.

And what a delicious shrill and prolonged shriek did I elicit from her as I began to slowly push. Now I was getting her to shriek and cry like a newborn. It was music to my ears. For now. But damn it was loud. I did get the needle through.

I repeated the same ritual on her other nipple, and was once again treated to a symphony of shrieks as it punctured her prepubescent buds.

I laughed to myself.

"And do you know where the next one is going?" I asked her.

I lowered my hands down to her groin region. And then I saw it. She had given up.

It was that easy. Damn.

"I'll you everything," she blabbered in a panicked haze, "Please whatever you do, don't use that needle down there on me. Please oh god don't. Please sir. I'll tell you everything."

Fuck.

Too soon. Well. We'll see what she had to say.

"So then, girl, what is that you do? Spill it now, or I'll make another hole in your cunt."

I'll bet a feeling of dread washed over her at that imagery.

"I spot for the snipers," she sobbed.

"Go on," I said.

"I report to the snipers the daily routines of enemy patrols, and officers. I tell them when and where to expect their targets to be on any given day."

"Go on," I said.

And so she went on to explain in detail, pausing only to stifle a sob, a hiccup, or a gasp of breath.

She was a spotter. Duh.

There were many like her, but what surprised me was how much access she had to our high ranking officers. I'll bet it was because she was so pretty. And something else that I found interesting. Apparently it was her that planted the bomb at last month's officer ceremony that killed twenty soldiers and wounded dozens more. Holy shit. This little girl had planted one of the deadliest bombs in recent months. And, she seemed to be bragging about it? To me? Maybe she wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. She was in no situation to taunt. She would have to be taught a lesson, surely. Only 11 years old, I had to remind myself.

She then gave me locations of where all of the snipers were. The names of all her comrades.

But there was something off. I had listened to enough confessions to have my suspicions of what information was true and what was false. I knew that it was she that planted the bomb. That part sounded truthful. Maybe even proud of what she did. And I knew she had to suffer for that. But when she gave the names I could hear her hesitations. She was fabricating many of the names. And when she gave the positions of the snipers, I could tell that she was just leading me on.

And internally, I rejoiced.

It looked like I was still going to get to have some more fun with her.

We were only about three or four hours into her interrogation, and I felt like we had reached an ending point.

I was a little upset. I had seven to eight more hours to go.

I sent a message on my PDA to my superiors, reporting to them my findings. I did warn them of false intel. And so off that message went. It would only probably take a day for them to corroborate her story.

In the meantime. I was going to have some fun.

"So Sandra. I do appreciate you telling me that information. And if the information is correct, then you are correct in assuming that the pain ends. But in the meantime, we still have eight more hours with each other. And I intend to punish you for biting my finger."

"First things first, is I'm going to give you a couple of permanent nipple rings."

And yes, this was going to hurt too. But probably not as much as the needles going in.

I fastened the blunt ends of the needle to the end of a medium sized hoop ring, and pulled on through, until the ring passed through the needle. Suprisingly, no blood. The ring's thickness was large enough to cause enough internal pressure to staunch any bleeding. But of course, the trade off was probably more significant discomfort and pain.

Sandra was too tired to make a huge fuss.

She whimpered, but that was about it.

I repeated the same process for her other nipple.

Then I pulled out a long aluminum rod, about six feet long and two inched in diameter. I placed it on top of two small pillars, forming a small horizontal rack.

Just to be safe, because I untied her wrists, and her legs, I forced a ball gag into her mouth. I didn't want to get bitten again.

For a brief moment, after I untied her arms and legs, she was entirely unsecured, lying flat on the table. This was a test, of course. She was tired, yes, but really she hadn't been doing anything all day, except lie on her back. And sure enough, she began her mad bolt towards the door, while I just stood and watched, as this naked ball-gagged little girl made one wrong decision after another.

She made her move first by rolling off the table. Her legs wobbly from inactivity, she then stumbled clumsily towards the door, which was of course locked. I walked slowly over to her, and watched her turn around, back facing the door, front facing me. Now terrified and wondering what else she had left to do.

If I were her, I'd have gone straight for the tools, and found something sharp enough to try to kill me with. But I think in an instant, the door was much more appealing.

I could see her trembling, knees knocking against each other as I approached, looking rather angry.

She raised up her hands towards me as I got closer. I could see the piss running down her legs. I could see the shit oozing out of her ass, oozing like lava slowly down her inner thigh. It was simultaneously such a pathetic and sexy sight. She could barely look at me as I grabbed her hair and pulled. If I were her right now, I'd be trying to kick my groin. But she wasn't. She was pulling away, trying not to go where I wanted her to go.

I dragged her tiny frame towards the horizontal bar. I handcuffed each wrist to the opposite upper arm, making it so that her hands could not extend past her mid-back. Grabbing her right foot, I hoisted it over the horizontal frame. I cuffed her ankles too, in the interim.

I then advanced the height of the horizontal frame, so that it pushed up into her groin, hoping to split her throughher child cunt. I could tell that she knew where it was going, because she had shifted most of her weight on her left foot, making it so that she was misaligned, and the bar actually ran into the fold where her inner thigh met her pelvis. That would be OK for now, actually.

I then attached some ropes to her nipple clamps, and attached these ropes to the front of the bar, which would not only keep her torso straight and aligned, it would prevent her from leaning back on the bar. This way, the weight would always be squarely focused on her sensitive slit. I pulled up on ropes until there was tension, and the rings pulled painfully at her nipples. I could tell this was hurting her significantly, because her winces turned into heavy breathing and groaning.

Sandra appeared to be mentally elsewhere now. The pain in her groin was probably growing stronger and stronger. I've had some of my female victims tell me that the pain grows to be stronger and more unrelenting than childbirth, and certainly more intense and focused. In any case, based off the growing intensity of her moans, I could tell she was really starting to feel the pain now. It was at this point now that I attached a spreader bar to her ankles, pushing them wide apart.

And little by little I adjusted the bar upwards, all the while picking her up by the hips to make sure that she was perfecty aligned with the bar, so that all of her body weight now rested squarely on her lovely crotch, specifically her clit, which was now being crushed, slowly. I could have left her there. Sure. But I didn't want her to suffer permanent damage to her clit, which needed blood supply from time to time to avoid any significant damage.

So I made sure that she wasn't lifted to high off the air that her toes couldn't reach the ground. But just her toes. I didn't want her to have any more support than that. Of course, the spreader bar was there to prevent her from bringing her legs together to support any more of her weight. It wouldn't take long at all before she would feel significant strain in the muscles in her buttocks, thighs, and calves. I expected her to start cramping within the half hour.

I pulled the ropes attached to her nipple rings again, making sure they were quite taut. This would keep her torso upright and straight. And her hands were bound in such a way they could not reach the bar she was straddling. I also attached her wrists to a rope that was attached to the back of the bar, so she could not fall forward. She was lucky. Adult women would have their clits crushed with more than a hundred pounds of weight. She was still a growing girl, so her clit was mercifully only feeling the effect of 75 pounds.

Ah, the advantages of youth.

She was perfectly balanced, and forced to lean just a little bit forward at all times. It was a sight of pure beauty. Her labia were parted perfectly. Her genitals bearing the full brunt of a very old, very effective torture.

And so I would have her remain in this position for the next six hours.

But first. I needed her to eat shit. And I had just the way to motivate her to do so.

I attached to her metallic nipple rings two alligator clamps, which were themselves attached to an electrical box. And viola. She was ready.

This box was specifically programed for torture. It had every setting, every frequency, every intensity, you name it. We all had to go through a fairly lengthy training session on how to use this box. Of course, some people you tortured you wouldn't want to make any marks on, so you had to know when tissue damage was risked (which would take shape in the form of burns, and pretty deep ones were certainly possible).

You can make a person feel any intensity of pain as you like. That is what the current is for. The stronger the current, the more pain the person feels. It doesn't take much current to activate pretty much every nerve in the nipple, especially if it was pierced, because they would significantly reduce any resistance unopened skin would give.

And by every nerve, I mean every nerve. The ones for sharp pain. The ones for dull pain. The ones for burning pain, and the ones for cold pain. Odd nerves designed to only sense vibration, or tell location. Even the nerves that are responsible for pleasure are activated. It's a very funny and strange feeling, I'm sure, to be tortured with electricity. Even though some pleasure nerves are affected, the overall experience (based on how my victims have howled in agony in the past), is likely overwhelmingly negative.

And then there's the voltage, which controls how far the pain travels. Current travels in many paths, but it typically spreads from its point of contact. The greater the voltage, the further the current travels. And it does get weaker as it travels farther. It is theorized that electricity can give you a heart attack in the chest, if used improperly. While it is certainly possible, the amount of electricy used to maximize pain in the skin and external muscle (the heart is encased in a compartment of its own in the chest) is much smaller than the amount of electricity used in a defibrillator. Not to mention, the defibrillator uses a shit ton of voltage to reach the heart. And we're not using that much voltage, ladies and gents.

But I digress. Back to our little victim, sitting pretty on her increasingly aching cunt.

So, yes. I wanted to torture her nipples. I wanted to bathe her little girl tits (which were non-existent, really) in so much pain. I was actually extremely estatic I got a female with breast buds, which by default were already sore. So yes, add that to a steady flow of searing electrons that were going to wreak havoc on the little nerve endings in her tits. Boy was this going to suck for little Sandra.

On yes, and I wanted the pattern of shocks to mimic the frequency of a machine gun. There's something about a constant throb that jolts you at the frequency of an automatic weapon. It felt forceful. Like an assault. An unrelenting, merciless assault of pain on her immature buds. And it was a good frequency. Despite how fast it jolted the victim, it still provided just enough time for the neurons to reset, so she wouldn't become desensitized to the pain too quickly.

And here was game. I explained the rules to her.

"I know you're in a lot of pain right now, so I understand it will be difficult to pay attention to me. But if you don't, you will be in a world of more hurt. I want you to lick this shit covered dildo clean. The one that was just in your ass. I'm going to give you fifteen seconds to clean, and fifteen seconds of electricity to remind you of what will happen if there is still a speck of shit on the dildo. When the dildo is spotless, and I mean, absolutely fucking spotless, then this game of electricity will stop. Now understand, the current you will experience is about moderate intensity. So if you feel like you've been to hell and back with the pain, understand that hell can get twice as worse. Trust me, little girl, you've never felt anything like this before."

Even though she was starting to struggle with the bar that was crushing her genitals (I could see already that her legs were wobbling trying to support her weight despite the cramps that were probably already starting to set in), I think she did get most of what I said.

"Your fifteen seconds starts now."

And as expected, she did nothing. Just stared at the dildo as I brought it to her mouth. I taunted her to open up. I pushed the tip of the dildo against her lips. Nothing. Fifteen seconds elapsed. And so I started the current. And true to my promise, I knew she had never felt anything like this before. This isn't your average S&M electricity play, folks. This is torture. And medium strength current for torture on the nipples I'm told by my former victims feels like you're getting your nipples ripped off by pliers. And on the highest setting, imagine now that the pliers are white hot.

The first fifteen seconds she didn't even scream. The pain was so intense that she just clamped down and grunted. I could see her abdomen tighten, her shoulders scrunch up towards her ears, and her face bear down in a bitter grimace. She was tensing up so hard that I could even see some of her neck veins pop out. It was a cold room, but her chest glistened now with fresh perspiration, as her entire body trembled from the horror she was experiencing.

I'm sure when she looked at the shit covered dildo she had second thoughts. But this girl seemed to really not like poop. So fifteen more seconds elapsed, and I subjected her nipples to the high frequency burn once again. I was pretty impressed. I would have thought she would start lapping away after the first session. But she didn't. I don't know if she did the math or not, but toughing it out through one session was something. If she didn't start licking, there would be potentially hundreds of these sessions. And I was going to up the ante. I turned the current on maximum power. I knew this was impossible to keep up. I wondered how long it would take her to figure this out.

"Actually," I said to the girl, "We're going to change things up a bit. I'm going to turn on the current for a full minute now. I really don't think fifteen seconds is going to cut it."

And so we went for a full minute. On maximum power.

I watched as her screamed her lungs out. A nice, big bellowing scream that nearly blew my ear drums out. I don't believe she had ever felt pain like this before.

A full minute of it, and really just fifteen seconds after that to lick her way to respite. But this was enough to convince her to open her mouth. And with little hesitation, I pushed the dildo towards her reticent tongue, which lapped shyly at the dry dildo at first, coated with bitter excrement and metallic-tasting blood.

After a fairly tame attempt at cleaning the dildo, I doubled the time to a full two minutes of electricity. I told her I was going to add a minute to each subsequent cycle.

And after two full minutes of electricity searing her nipples, she licked more ferociously the second time.

But before she could finish another round of current coursed through her nipples.

It took her five more cycles to suck the dildo spotless. The last cycle tore through her nipples for a full eight minutes. I could tell that these torturous sessions of electricity had started to wear her out too, and that as motivated as she was to lick her own shit and blood off the dildo, when it came time for her fifteen seconds to shine, she was starting to get sloppy and uncoordinated with her efforts. But she finally finished. Much to my disappointment, the dildo was actually pretty darn spotless.

And I kept my promise.

The electricity ended. And then her ordeal went from bearing a sharp burning searing pain in her nipples to now enduring the dull, throbbing, heavy pain likely still growing in intensity and focus in between her legs, concentrating on her tiny little sex.

And let's not forget how tired her legs already were trying to hold up as much weight as they could, doing the half-splits, and pushing out from her toes. They had to be cramping and burning by now. And she was less than an hour into her torture. She had five more hours to go.

Five. More. Hours.

I wasn't going to bother watching her for all five hours. After all. I had a ton of paperwork to finish. So I dropped by every hour.

Two hours in. I could tell she was in a world of hurt already. Her legs were quivering from exhaustion. I doubted that they were providing much of any support by now, and probably would contribute next to nothing indefinitely. I figure that at this point I should probably prevent too much injury to her genitals by lowering the bar for a a few minutes. And boy, did she howl in agony as the blood flowed back into her clit. I gave it a few minutes, and I pushed the bar back up, which once again forced another scream from her. One more hour until my neck recheck.

Three hours in. She was begging me now. She was begging me to stop. To let her down. To let her go. She'd tell me anything. Anything. But you've already told me everything, I said. There it nothing more to discuss. This is for biting my finger, I said. You have two more hours to go, I told her. She begged and begged. She would do anything for me to stop. I knew that. But after allowing the blood to flow back into her crotch once more, I pushed the bar back up and split her cunt lips once again, crushing her feminine core.

Four hours in. She was a blubbering mess. Incoherent. Drowsy with pain and suffering. Moaning like a dying animal. She didn't even bother begging me this time.

And then finally. The last and final hour. She wasn't even moving anymore. She was motionless, her chest rose slowly up and down. If there was ever a picture of complete and utter exhaustion, this was it. I don't believe her mind could really suffer from much more pain. Or at least, I'll bet that's what it believed. It could, though. Suffer much more pain, that is.

I let her down from the bar. She gave one last moan as the blood rushed back into her crotch, this time for good.

It was at this moment that the time was right for my last and final act.

I removed the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. I left her collar on, to remind her what she was from this point on. I picked her up easily, and carried her to the far end of the room, and unfolded a tiny padded mat. I placed her naked body on top of the mat.

And then I had my fun, with this tiny, helpless, exhausted little girl.

The first thing I did was grab her jaw and kiss her on the lips. She made little effort to resist me. I pushed her cheeks in with my fingers and forced her to open her mouth as I explored the inside of her mouth deeply with my tongue, making lascvicious contact with hers. I took the risk. She could bite me now, sure. But I had never French-kissed a little girl before. I wanted this to be the time. She was exhausted. I took my chances. I know I said I wouldn't put myself at risk again, but I was too fucking horny. I stuck my tongue deep inside her and I sucked hard, forcing her tongue out, and sucked on her tongue for a good minute or two.

I then licked her face, which was deliciously salty, and had been coated with dried sweat and tears. I was slow. Deliberate. I wanted this to last. I wanted it to be perfectly enjoyable for me, but also wholesomely degrading for her. I licked and sucked her from head to toe, until she was no longer salty, until there was no part of her body that had not been explored by my tongue and lips. I was so ready for this. I nearly came during this process, and my dick had yet to touch anything yet.

And then it came to licking her pussy. I must have French-kissed and deep-tongued that soft, delicate flower of an organ for a good half hour. I explored every nook and cranny. Every crevice. I sucked hard. I sucked her clit like a thirsty newborn on its mother's tits. It tasted heavenly. And then for the final act, I fucked her. My dick was so hard and oozing with so much precum that I had no trouble breaking her hymen on my first thrust, bloodying my dick. Yes, it was unprofessional. But who cared. I fucked her good and hard. I came immediately, of course. But I was so turned on, that I just kept going, and after 30 minutes of some pretty savage pumping, I came again. I grabbed her throat as I came, and choked her, stared into her eyes, as I exerted my complete and utter dominance over this powerless life form. She was my fuck doll for the night.

I was so fucking horny that I wanted one more round. I got on my back, and pulled her on top of me, her back touching my stomach. I managed to get my dick hard enough, but this time pushed it deep inside her ass. I left my dick inside her for a good ten minutes, until it got hard again. I was pretty fucking tired, so I spent the next half hour just pumping her slowly, really letting my dick feel every fucking square inch of her tight anus. And then in one final hurrah I fucked her hard for another thirty minutes. I kept myself in pretty good shape, so I went full marathon on this one. I thrust and pumped her until my heart was beating like it did on a good jog. I fucked her as my chest pulled in lung-fulls of air and my breath was hot and vapored. The sound of skin slapping on skin was all that could be heard in that room. I grunted as I fucked her, chasing that third mythical orgasm. I used my third and fourth fingers on my right hand to penetrate her pussy and grip her crotch for better leverage, and I used my left hand to grip her throat. I pumped and I pumped, as our sweaty bodies grinded and rubbed intimately against each other, skin sliding over slick skin.

I grunted like an animal, while she whimpered softly, exhausted, too weak to fight back or resist. And when I came, I held her tightly to my body.

I rested for a while, with her body lying on top of mine. I held her close to my chest. And after a while I got up, leaving her limp lifeless body on the mat. She looked like she was sleeping. I looked down at my dick. Covered in blood, of course. I looked at her. You could see a little bit of blood oozing from both her pussy and asshole. I probably tore her up. What was an hour and a half of pure ecstasy for me was probably just another hour and a half of raw pussy and ass pain, coupled with the total lack of power to stop it.

But I could not let her sleep. Unfortunately, as exhausted as she was, this first night was to offer her little respite.

I dragged her exhausted little body to the center of the room again, and I attached a cuff on her right ankle, and hoisted her ankle up in the air from a rope attached to the ceiling, so that her knee was bent, and she resembled a dog about to take a piss. I tied her hands behind her back. And to prevent her from falling down, to keep her standing on just one leg, I tied her damp matted head into a pony tail, and secured her ponytail to a rope from the ceiling. And that's where I left her for the night. She would have to spend the night standing on one foot. Tired as she was, she was going to get even more tired.

I packed my things up. I put on my jacket, and I left for home, to return eight hours later, for my next session with her, if needed. And I suspected that I would need it.