Bondage Bandit's Confession by Tori

[Mt Thor]

Bondage Bandit's Confession by Tori

AN INTRODUCTION:
Now I know that all those bleeding-heart, liberal, do-gooder
feminist out there just absolutely hate written stories or movies
that depict women getting roughed-up, raped, tortured, exploited
and plain old abused. They think these tales actually encourage
people to go out and commit'such acts. They actually think this
form of literature puts the average female under a much greater
threat of being harmed. I say that's bullshit! How stupid can you
be? I mean, like serial killers and psychotic rapists can't think
for themselves. This stuff happens and it happens all the time
whether you write about it or not. Face it...women get abducted,
beaten, raped, brutalized and even murdered on a regular basis in
this country. And guess what folks? The people who are prone to
commit these crimes, do not follow the old standard, urban myth
M.O.'s. A modern rapist is not necessarily a toothless, moronic
pervert lurking behind the bushes at a woman s apartment complex.
And no self-respecting psycho killer with any brains is dumb
enough to try and actually hide in the back seat of some chick's
car after she goes into the mini-mart to pay for gas. Come
on...get real! People prone to perform robbery, rape and murder
are becoming very ingenious. They use some exceptionally clever
techniques and increasingly complex schemes to achieve their
sordid goals.
Robbery and rape tactics have evolved and are constantly
being perfected to some very impressive levels of deviousness.
People who rob and rape are making a determined effort to be
innovative and non-traditional in their wicked ploys. Females in
general should know about these horrid schemes. Refusing to
expose these tactics, through writings and even verbal
discussions, is the human equivalent of saying that all women
should just thrust their heads in the sand like dim-witted
Ostriches. Apparently, in the twisted feminist way of thinking,
what women can't see or hear about, doesn t exist. What a load of
crap?
I think that every rape trick in the book should be
explained in detail and made totally available to the entire
female population. Knowledge is power. Being aware means being
alert and that means being safe. Writings like that which follows
aren t evil, they're educational.

NOTE:
This story is a work of fiction but it is based upon and
pieced together from a variety of actual news accounts, court
reports and criminal confessions by people who actually performed
similar acts. If you don't like this kind of thing, then don't
read it. Stay stupid!

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BONDAGE BANDITS CONFESSIONS
By: Tori

I'm not going to blow you any shit or make up a bunch of
lies to justify my actions or general lifestyle. Nor will I try
to come up with any thought provoking psychological crap about
why I'm the way I am. That would merely blur the basic facts.
Simply stated, I'm a woman who likes to control, degrade and even
hurt other women. In fact, I get a certain level of sexual
satisfaction from doing so; In other words, I admit to being a
female rapist.
Now don't think there aren't plenty of other women out there
who get turned-on by the same thing. They just won't admit it. As
a woman, I'll let all you guys in on a little secret. Most ladies
get damp in the loins when they hear stories or watch a movie
scene which depicts an innocent, everyday, goody-good-girl
getting herself raped by men or lesbianized by a fiendish femme-
fatale or better yet, some bad-ass gang of bull-dyke, street-
bred-bitches. Like it or not...it happens. I can speak from
personal experience.
I've got this tag-along, eager-to-please, overly-obedient
boyfriend named Reno. He does whatever I say. No girl could ask
for a better, pussy-whipped, lap-dog than old Reno.
We are bandits by trade and work as a team. Our specialty is
targeting classy, well-dressed, intelligent women to kidnap, rob,
torture and rape. Our escapades may be decadent and immoral but
we make a shitpot full of money doing it and don't make any
shallow-assed, phoney excuses for our politically incorrect
deeds. Hey...It's the 90's...shit happens!
We opt for women victims because they can be easily lured
into a variety of traps, especially by another female like me.
This can be accomplished without difficulty because most women
falsely believe that all acts of aggression against them will
come from men. Modern self-defense courses, personal safety
seminars and feminist-based television talk shows have left the
average, modern women virtually brainwashed with the idea that
they'll only get attacked by sex-crazed, male perverts or else
some drooling, testosterone-flushed sociopaths. Because of this
thinking, today's women seldom, if ever, feel threatened by
another woman. This naive and gullible attitude makes them
especially easy targets for female criminals like me, who
initially approach them, alone, under a variety of different
guises. Reno normally stays out of sight while I first make
contact.
Credit and bank cards are what we're really after. Any
jewelry, cash or clothes is just icing on the cake. Reno and I
are highly successful in our profession because we re smart and
very patient. We plan ahead, don't take chances and will gladly
pass up a deal if things don't seem completely right.
We obtain victims from a wide variety of urban settings and
situations, but our favorite is the shopping mall. There's no
better place on earth than a modern mall to 'bird dog' some
tight-assed, high-and-mighty cunt, size her up and take her down?
Reno and I usually pull into a town, get a bite to eat,
freshen up a little and then find the nearest upscale shopping
center. We'll casually roam through the facility looking for the
most desirable prey. Once a girl is targeted, the stalking
begins from a distance of course.
Reno likes the more uptight, conservative, heels-and-hose,
professional babe in a color-coordinated, tailored-cut business
suit. I prefer the more pert and sassy, yuppy chick dressed in
the latest trendy garb. Over time, we obtain enough ladies from
both social classes to adequately satisfy our needs so we don't
really worry about it or argue over these petty details. That's
so totally unprofessional. Besides, I'mean, it's not like there s
any shortage of spoiled, pampered, rich-bitch, bimbo twats to
grab in this country.
Babes in their late twenties to early thirties are usually a
good choice. If they're in that age class and shopping during the
middle of the week, you can be fairly sure they're well-to-do.
Twats like this most likely don't have to work because their
hubbies are either fat-cat attorneys, accountants or some kind of
big-shot lard-assed banker. Women like this are loaded with good
jewelry, adequate cash and most importantly plenty of credit
cards.
The last time out, Reno and I bagged a hot-fox dandy if
there ever was one. This babelicious little fashion-femme with
perky short-cropped, brunette hair was strutting her stuff
through the mall, fully outfitted in a black wool jacket, walking
shorts with suspenders, a crispy white Oxford blouse and virgin-
white, opaque hose. To accessorize this already cocky ensemble,
she had on a stylish pair of those blocky-heeled, lace-tie, black
leather, granny-type shoes polished to an extra high gloss along
with an arrogant little beret cap and thin black leather gloves
which she wore all the time. I took one look at her, turned to
Reno and said, "I absolutely must have that brash and impudent
little self-centered kitty-kat."
Reno glanced at the tart for only a second before saying,
"And you shall, my dear. You truly shall."
Like I told you earlier. Reno always agrees with me. That's
why I keep him around. He s also good for heavy lifting and
changing a flat tire.
Over the next two hours, we tracked the prideful lady
through the mall as she casually shopped her way from store to
store. Two different times, she happened across a couple of her
phoney-assed, shallow-brained acquaintances, exchanged the usual
assortment of hypocritical hugs and fake cheek kisses, then
continued on her way. Eventually she ended up at a cafe where she
met some other damn, good-looking, middle-aged woman for lunch.
Reno and I kept an eye on our prey from a nearby bookstore.
The women s actions were so typical and predictable. This
superficial little bitch and her equally trivial, yuppy-class
friend sat with their legs crossed demurely at an effeminate,
undersized table, ate their garden salads (with light dressing
I'm sure), exchanged counterfeit laughs and babbled forth an
assortment of obviously silly, inane comments while they
constantly bobbed and frivilously rotated their expensively-shod
feminine feet. This modern female feeding ritual rambled on for
an hour or so. Finally, the ladies finished, paid their bills and
parted ways. Our future victim gathered up her things and headed
out of the mall. Our patience would soon pay off.
Reno got our van while I watched the yuppy head across the
parking lot towards a late-model, slate-gray, Land Rover. She
unlocked the vehicle, put away her packages and crawled in. Reno
picked me up in the van and we proceeded to trail this perky
tart.
As a rule of thumb, we seldom grab a girl directly from the
mall parking lot. That's really risky business. There are just
too damn many security cameras around these days. Cops can either
see you doing it or they can play back the monitoring tapes
later, check things out and spot you right in the act.
The only exception to this rule is if you want to grab one
of those foxy, dim-witted, dewy-eyed, minimum wage, sales clerk
when she gets off work. These working-class girls make for fairly
easy target because their employers instruct them to park at the
far back part of the lot. If you get to a mall first thing in the
morning and watch the employees coming to work, you can usually
pick out a potential femme to snatch when she gets off her shift
sometime in the mid-afternoon.
You may think it foolish to even suggest grabbing a girl in
broad daylight but just the opposite is true. If we do pull a
parking lot snatch, Reno and I always get a girl at the afternoon
shift switch. That's because stores and mall security are far
more concerned about those female employees who leave the later
shifts and have to go to their cars in a dark parking lot. Late
at night, most stores today provide escorts or at least watch
until the women get into their cars and drive off. At night, the
women themselves are usually very alert and overly suspicious of
anyone lingering nearby. They're often carrying mace or pepper
gas in their hands and even sporting rape whistles right in their
mouths, ready to blow at a moments notice. To the contrary, these
same stores and security personnel have minimal concern for those
ladies who leave at four or five in the afternoon. When it's
still light outside, their attitude is, "Whose gonna be dumb
enough to grab a woman in broad daylight where everyone can see
what s happening."
Once a potential victim is chosen, Reno and I eventually
park our van next to, or at least close to this chosen girl s
car. When that's done, we like to go into the mall, get a bite to
eat, maybe take in a movie and at some point, check out the girl
right where she s working. Over the years, we ve even bought a
few things from some of our targeted clerks and had them wait on
us. These smiling, gullible twats are so nice and friendly when
they ring up your order and hand you your change. They don't even
have the slightest clue as to what s in store for them. Knowing
that Reno and I will soon control their fate is a mega turn-on in
itself. Power over another human being always gives me such a
rush.
Anyway, here s one way that we pull off a successful parking
lot abduction. When the clerk chick finally gets off work and
approaches her car, Reno and I will stand near our van in a
lovers embrace, lewdly fondling one another. The unwitting lass
will take a look or two then turn away with mixed emotions of
embarrassed disgust. It's a typical and natural female reaction.
As the clerk concentrates on getting her car unlocked, (which
just about consumes most of her mental abilities for that moment)
Reno and I turn and grab the girl from each side. I ll push a
small piece of steel pipe under her ear and say something
conventionally threatening like, "Don't make a sound bitch or
you ll die right here and right now."
The captured girl, of course, thinks the pipe is actually a
gun, but I ll let you in on a little secret. Neither Reno nor
myself even own a gun. There s really no need to use one and
besides, if a cop happens to stop you for some minor traffic
violation and ends up finding a pistol or something like a
shotgun, you re in a bunch of deep shit trouble. They get to
checking into things a lot closer and asking a lot of questions
and that's not good. To the contrary, there s nothing illegal
about carrying around a six inch piece of half-inch steel pipe.
Once a bimbo feels that cold, tubular steel against her neck
and figures it is a real gun, I just can't resist adding some
demandingly dramatic movie-style dialog like, "Your ass belongs
to us, babe. Now be a good little girl and get in the van or
we ll blow your fuckin tits and head off."
I love the look in these girls faces when you initially
grab them. They get all wide-eyed and their brows wrinkle like
they just can't believe this is actually happening to them. These
chicks will often say something really stupid such as, This
is...like...really for real, isn t it?
One time, we snared this department store cosmetics lady who
put up some modest resistance but was really more interested in
keeping her short skirt from hiking up on her hips. Talk about a
lot of woman to handle? She stood at least five ten and wore size
eleven shoes. As we wrestled her into the van she bumped her
head, fell to one side then rolled over and boldly announced, I
hope you know that I just broke a nail. Are you happy now?
Another time, this brainless saleslady from a shoe store
struggled with me in the back seat as we drove off. She stopped
suddenly then disgustingly proclaimed, I just got a run in my
hose and this is the first day I've worn them. I can't believe
it. You guys are just such creeps.
See what I'mean about the mental capacity of the average
wage-rate, female sales clerk? These girls are getting abducted
in broad daylight by total strangers, being hauled off to who
knows where for who knows what sadistic purposes and they're more
worried about their hose, nails and general appearance than
what s going to happen to their hot little asses. It's
disgraceful for women like me to even claim them as members of
the same sex.
Anyway, kidnaping these girls is definitely done more for
fun than profit. They usually have very modest jewelry, a small
amount of cash and some low-limit credit cards but their bodies
are what we re really after. Once a girl is in the van, we ll
take her to a motel, strip the bitch butt naked, use em for some
extra rough sex and then scare the shit out them by acting like
we re gonna drown them in the bathtub or suffocate them with a
plastic bag over their head. We ll finally humiliate a girl by
shaving their head and pubic region then leave them tied to the
bed with curtain cord, spread eagle, completely naked, greased
head to foot with Vaseline and doped up with an extra heavy dose
of Rohypnol and Ketamine. That stuff totally fucks up a girl's
brains and general memory. It makes them even bigger air-headed
bimbos than they already are. A chick whose been treated with
'roofies' and 'ket' doesn't remember a god damn thing. That's
important in our line of work because a mentally screwed up cunt
can't tell the cops nothing of any value.
Feminist make a really big deal about Rohypnol being the
famous DATE RAPE DRUG but hell, I think it's used more on robbery
victims than anywhere else. You can't press charges on anyone if
you can't remember jack shit. The stuff is cheap, too. You can
buy roofies illegally on the street for anywhere from a couple of
dollars to five bucks a pop. It's manufactured in Europe as a
legal drug but comes into this country mostly through Mexico.
It's realy easy to get in Texas and Florida.
Ketamine is a drug used by veterinarians as a muscle
relaxant for injured horses. You can get it through any vet
supply house but it has to be injected so be sure and buy some
needles, too. Shoot a girl up with ket and she can't move a
muscle can't scream or fight or nothing. It's like they're
consciously paralyzed. Ketamine even causes some hallucinations
and like Rohypnol, just totally fucks up a girl s overall memory.
They don't know where they been or what s happened to them during
the last couple of days. Great stuff to use on bitches.
But enough about these minor forays and general encounters
with mediocre females of the wage-rage, working-class masses. I
was telling you about following this exclusive yuppy chick in her
Land Rover vehicle: the kind of woman who provides us with our
real bread and butter income.
Following one of these hot-shot tarts home is really quite
easy. If you keep your distance, they seldom get suspicious.
Chicks like this are always too busy thinking about themselves to
pay much attention to anyone behind them. Even if they ve been
briefed and warned about the so-called follow home rapists
women like our dark-haired friend in the Land Rover are basically
expecting the culprit or culprits to be nothing short of
sleazeball derelicts with a five day growth of beard and bad
teeth driving some 20 year old, smoke-belching junker. A man and
a woman, driving a decent car and sporting a clean cut appearance
like Reno and me, will never appear threatening to anyone or
raise the least little bit of suspicion.
After tailing our target, we ended up in one of those new
developments full of quarter million dollar homes with three car
garages. The women who dwell in places like this feel so totally
secure just because they live in a classy neighborhood and have a
big, fancy house. They are so easy to catch off guard that it
isn t even funny.
Once our potential victim pulled into her driveway, we drove
right on past the place. Reno came back around and dropped me off
a few houses down from our soon-to-be victim. He drove off
momentarily while I ran up through the yard and approach the
yuppy s front door. As I rang the bell, I ll kicked off one shoe,
messed my hair and loosened my blouse at the waist band. When the
yuppy babe answered the door, I acted all excited and told her
how I had just gotten car-jacked down at the intersection by this
horrible man wearing a skI'mask.
The gullible twat ushered me inside immediately, locked the
door and headed for the phone. Before she had gotten off five
paces, I pulled out a stun gun, touched it to the side of her
neck, just under the ear and zapped the bitch to her knees with a
neat and nasty, totally silent, three hundred-thousand volts. A
second blast to her mid section put the woman face down, flat on
the floor, in a dazed and muddled stupor. She never knew what hit
her.
At this point the bitch's ass belonged to me. I immediately
reached down, unlaced her shoes, tugged them off and looked
inside. They were Nine West, eight-and-a-half mediums, leather
sole and uppers, Made in Italy. Hmmmm! Just my size and brand. I
tied the laces together and slung the stylish footwear around my
neck. These shoes represented the first of many trophies that
would be acquired from our latest human conquest.
Reno, in the mean time, had doubled around the block and
pulled in the driveway. I unlocked the front door as he came up
the walk carrying a black satchel which we call the R&R kit (ie.
Rape and Robbery). It contains a variety of basic items which
come in handy during the performance of our deeds. Things like
duct tape, cording, shaving cream, razors, cloth for gags, a
video camera etc.
I returned to the female body while Reno scouted the house
quickly, just to make sure we were alone. Establishing that fact,
he walked over to our now groaning victim, rolled her face up,
lugged her into a sitting position then hoisted her up and
crudely slung her over his shoulder. Men are always good to have
along for this kind of heavy lifting.
I retrieved the woman's purse from a counter top then we
headed upstairs to find her bedroom. For maximum psychological
impact, we always degrade a female in the sanctity of her own
bedroom. It really fucks up their brains and general emotions to
get raped in their own bed. Don't try to figure it out. It's a
girl thing.
From this fashion femme s drivers license and credit cards,
I found out her name was Brandi. She was 28 years old, five-eight
with brown eyes and supposedly only weighed 135 pounds. After
carrying her upstairs, Reno assured me that'she was definitely
shaving a few pounds off that last statistic.
By the time we located Brandi's bedroom and tossed her onto
the bed, she had regained some of her senses. The bitch actually
thrashed out at Reno with both arms and even called him a bastard
creep weirdo. I gave the feisty tart another quick electrical
shock which zapped her back into a state of semi-consciousness.
We wrapped duct taped around her mouth and eyes, taped her hands
behind her back and tied her feet together by stretching out the
toe tips of her pantyhose and tying them off with a bow knot.
With our victim modestly secured, we brought her back to
life with a few body shakes and some face slaps. She struggled
against the bonds at first. Women always do. It's a natural human
response. I always like to watch a bound girl s movements and
listen to their indignant, frustrated grunts and groans as they
foolishly try to free themselves. Spoiled, good-looking, rich-
bitch babes like Brandi are especially hostile towards getting
tied and gagged. They can't stand to not be in control of a
situation. They ve always had things their way and it really
drives them crazy when somebody else is calling the shots.
Anyway, after viewing a few minutes of futile struggling, I
gave Reno a nod. He grabbed Brandi by the hair, pulled her into a
sitting position and backhanded her across the face. She fell
back on the bed only to be grabbed again, brought into an upright
position and promptly backhanded in the opposite direction. That
definitely got her attention. You just can't cut chicks like
Brandi any slack. They need to know who s in control from the
start or else they're likely to give you some shit later. I
grabbed this woman by the chin and told her bluntly, "You're
gonna' get robbed, raped and beaten...understand?"
Brandi blubbered around like an idiot so I released my hold
and once again nodded to Reno. He repeated his backhanding
process only with even more force than the first time. I once
more grabbed Brandi by the chin and simply repeated, "Do you
understand me...BITCH BRANDI?"
Her eyebrows raised well above the tape line. It'shocked her
that I'somehow knew her name. You could tell that she was trying
to figure out who I was or how I knew her. I don't think the
dumb-ass cunt even thought about me getting the information right
from her driver s license. Stupid bitch!
Since she still hadn't answered me, I'shook her head once
more and repeated firmly, "Do you understand me, princess?"
She blubbered and sobbed from behind the tape gag, nodded
yes and offered only a token resistance as Reno and I removed all
her jewelry. Like most married women though, she tightened her
hand into a solid fist when it came time to take off her wedding
ban. One more backhand treatment from Reno put an end to that
nonsense. After getting all her jewelry, we untaped her wrist,
unbuttoned her blouse, slipped off the suspenders and opened up
the fly of her walking shorts. Talk about opening up a treasure
box. It's always fun to see what these hot-shot, cobb-up-the-butt
bimbos are sporting under their conservative, suburbanite
wardrobes. Brandi for instance, had on an expensive pair of
charcoal gray, lacy silk tap pants and a matching style silk
camisole over this one piece teddy. The one-piecer had underwired
padded bra cups and a diamond shaped, extra spandex reinforced
tummy control panel. It looked like dear sweet Brandi was trying
to enhance her bodily shortfalls. Pantyhose over a pair of French
cut bikini panties finished out her ensemble. Everything came
off.
Brandi had only average sized breast but nice strong legs,
great feet and one fine round ass. She had vainly cropped shaved
her pussy into a neat and tidy rectangle. That would have to be
removed. I never allow any of my female victims to keep their
pubic hair. It's always eliminated as part of the overall
psychological degradation of the female spirit. I've always felt
that any woman who is enough of a wimpette as to allow herself to
be victimized, isn t worth of a pubic mound in any shape or form.
By the time we hand Brandi'stripped and robbed, she offered
us virtually no resistance. Naked bitches never have much fight
in them. Still, that didn t stop Reno and I from beating her. We
both kicked, slapped, shoved and punched Brandi until we had her
cowering in the fetal position, completely shamed and desperately
trying to cover her feminine nakedness.
I leaned over and demanded a series of answers to some
important questions. I found out where she kept her extra cash
and jewelry. I pulled the tape off her eyes and mouth then held
up her ATM cards one by one and made her give me the code numbers
and passwords for the accounts. Reno copied them down as she
spewed them out. I also made sure that'she didn't have any kids
and wasn t expecting any friends over, nor was she suppose to
make any particular calls at any particular time and most
importantly, her husband wouldn t be home until 6:00 pm or later.
I warned her that the husband story had better be true because if
he showed up unexpectedly, we d grab his ass and cut his cock and
balls right off in front of her while she watch. She started
blubbering and begging us not to do that. She swore he wasn t
scheduled to come home until at least six o clock.
With those important facts secured, I sat Brandi upright on
the edge of the bed, duct taped her hands behind her back again,
then told Reno to drop his pants and go to work. You should have
seen the look on Brandi's face when she saw Reno expose his more-
than-adequate male organ and get it ready for use. I'make him
clean shave all his pubes so that he doesn t accidentally leave
any evidence for the cops to find. He hates it but does it anyway
because he knows I'm right.
As expected, Brandi resisted taking the dick, so I took hold
of her head by the hair, pinched her nose shut and forced her
opened mouth onto Reno's exquisitely swollen manhood. God, she
hated that but what could she do? Nothing breaks a woman's spirit
like forcing her to suck cock. In our line of work, I consider
the penis to be more of a weapon than a sex organ. All these
people who write porno stories always lead you to believe that a
woman really likes to give head, but that's all shit. In the real
world, especially during a rape, women hate sucking dick beyond
belief.
While Reno did his 'male thing' on Brandi, I gathered up all
the woman's spare cash, jewelry, a few pieces of silver and some
assorted electronic devices. After that, I scoured the lady's
closet for any clothes and shoes that'struck my fancy. I even
went through her lingerie drawers and found more than few
intimate items along with some extra fine sheer hosiery. A girl
can never have enough shoes or hosiery.
As I finished up, the noises coming from the bed were
recognizably typical. Between Reno's moaning and the sound of
Brandi choking on cum, I knew the oral phase of our work was
about done. Reno withdrew slowly and made sure that Brandi didn t
try to spit out any cum. Chicks will do that'some time because
they ve been told if they're ever raped, that any amount of
sperm, even small traces mixed with saliva, can be used as
evidence to convict a rapist. To prevent this kind of shit, we
promptly gagged Brandi with her own panties, sealed her mouth
shut with duct tape then slapped her around some more. After
that, we used nylons to tie the sniveling bimbo spread eagle on
the bed. From this position, I took out a can of shaving cream
from our satchel, along with a disposable razor, lathered up her
snatch and shaved it perfectly pink and clean. All the time I
worked, Brandi sobbed, choked, squirmed and resisted as best she
could. Amazingly, she still had some feminine spirit in her. That
would still have to be eliminated before we finished with her.
After scraping the last of her pubes off, I dusted the
freshly exposed genital region with baby powder then had Reno
loosen her bonds, flip her belly down, put on a condom and
royally fuck her in the ass. (We always practice safe sex, plus,
with a condom you once again don't leave the cops any physical
evidence in the form of sperm or blood.)
As Reno pumped away, old Brandi buried her head in the
pillow, clutched the bed covers till her knuckles turned white,
squealed like a newborn piglet and took it like a woman. Even
Reno was impressed. Here again, regardless about what the porno
stuff says, most women, even married ones, really don't take it
in the ass too often. And like sucking cock, getting reamed
absolutely debauches a girl beyond any description.
Reno finally withdrew his rod and cleaned himself up. I
flipped Brandi onto her back and did some girl-to-girl stuff with
her while Reno loaded up our van and then went to the kitchen to
find us something to eat. By the time I finished, Reno could get-
it-up enough to don another condom and rape Brandi in the
traditional missionary style. I ate a sandwich, watched the
assault progress, and dressed in the same outfit that Brandi had
worn at the mall. I swear, nothing pisses off another woman more
than when they see you dressed in their clothes. I love it. It's
something I try to do as often as possible because it never fails
to get the conquered femme really fuming and fussed up. Brandi
was no exception.
When it came time to finally depart, we left this poor dumb
suburban housewife in one of our classic positions a particularly
shameful pose designed exclusively for nothing less than complete
humiliation and total debasement of a human female. We taped the
woman's elbows together behind her back. They didn't naturally
come together so the process took a little forcing on our part.
Brandi moaned with pain but managed to survive the forced
contortion. Women are much tougher than you might think. Next, we
drew her legs up into her chest and taped each wrist to its
corresponding ankle. The extreme tension caused from having her
elbows taped together forced her arms to pull outward on each
leg. This shamefully exposed her most private and precious female
sex and placed it in a position for immediate observation by her
husband, once he returned home from work.
Reno then held Brandi's head up while I took some scissors
and randomly cut her hair into shambles. Finally, we encased her
entire head in duct tape. A pillow case over her head (secured in
place by a slip knot around the neck and fastened to the bed
post), kept dear, sweet Brandi from doing enough struggling to
ever get free on her own. The girl could still breath but any
excessive movements would either suffocate her to death or she d
strangle herself with the slip knot. In this position under these
conditions, the poor, dumb bitch couldn t do anything but accept
her fate as a helpless victim. On that day, she was nothing more
than just another fucked-over, stupid-cunt, rich-bitch who got
herself robbed and raped by people who really know their business
and enjoy their work.
Using her own lipstick, we wrote various obscenities on her
body. The words, "SOW BELLIED SLUT" graced her stomach while,
"PIG TITTED WHORE" went nicely on her left breast and "THIS
BOOB'S FOR YOU" adorned her right. A couple of flaming red arrows
spanned each buttocks and pointed toward her snatch along with
the general instructions, "FUCK ME HERE." You can't even begin to
imagine the turn-on that I experience from debauching an overly-
proud, prick-teasing little cunt like this Brandi person. The
sight of her lying on the bed, stripped naked and groveling in
her own indignity is something to behold. To know that you ve
beaten, raped and robbed a woman of absolutely everything she
owns especially her basic honor and complete dignity, is a super
turn-on plus some. To stand there, dressed in this woman s
clothing, knowing that you ve not only fucked her over but done
it in the sanctity of her own bed, and that she'll have to go
through years of emotional therapy, and that'she'll probably
never be able to have normal sex with her husband ever again...I
mean, it's just such a feeling of accomplishment. God help me but
I love it.
If Reno and I have any regrets about what we do, it's that
we can't hang around long enough to see the look on a hubby s
face when he comes home from a hard day of work and finds his
most precious princess and loving sweetheart tied, gagged, beaten
and left exposed in the most degrading manner humanly possible.
Some day we might stay and watch but to date, that option hasn t
been played out.
Unlike the common working girls who we grab from mall
parking lots, Reno and I'seldom used Rohypnol and Ketamine to
screw-up the memories of these high-class, socialite types from
these extra ritzy neighborhoods. It's a theoretical gamble which
we take. While roofies and ket are definitely an option, in
many ways we want this particular type of suburbanite victim to
remember everything that has happened to her. The idea behind our
severe tactics is to make the woman so totally ashamed and
embarrassed that'she won t report anything to anybody. I mean,
what self-respecting socialite could ever show her face at the
next bridge club or charity fund-raising event and have all the
other 'pantyhose cats' whispering in a sordid hush about how she
got herself raped and had her pubes shaved and got herself
lesbianized in her own bed by some lust-crazed dyke and her
drooling pervert, do-as-I-say boyfriend. And then think about
what the knowledge of this act might mean to the staunch old
conservatives that own her upwardly-mobile-hubby's law or
accounting firm. See what I mean? You re talking about a level of
vanity with this type of chick that most average people can't
even imagine and will never experience.
Reno and I's overall secret to general success is quite
simple. We re extra careful not to pull the same stunt too often
in the same town. The two basic stunts I've told you about are
just the tip of the iceberg. We have at least a dozen clever and
different ways to safely obtain female victims for rape and
robbery purposes. We wear disguises when we clean out a victim s
account from the ATM machines or use her credit cards at a store.
We re extra careful to divide up any jewelry, silver and
electronics and fence the stuff at least a couple of hundred
miles from the crime scene and at more than one store. But, most
importantly, we degrade our victims to the point where they are
far too ashamed to ever press charges or even report the crime.
To date our tactics have worked very well.
As for the women victims, you ve gotta look at it this way.
Chicks get fucked over all the time. It's a fact of life. If Reno
and me weren t doin' it, then somebody else would. I mean, shit
happens and it happens to women all the time. It's just part of
being born without a cock and balls. Women have to accept this as
a fact of life. You may think that statement is bizarre since it
comes from another woman but like my own Mamma use to tell me.
"There are two kinds of women in this world. Some of 'em fuck and
some of 'em get fucked. You always make sure you re in the first
group."
As a word of warning for all modern women, especially those
innocent, unsuspecting, well-dressed goody-good-girls who go
about their daily routine thinking that'something like what I've
just decribed could never possibly happen to them, I've got this
little phrase of my own. "Life can be such a bitch, for a bitch."
Don't you agree?