Finding Candy Morris was easy enough. Most days she was on the sidewalk in front of the 'Economy Store' wearing cut off jeans, an extra large man's flannel shirt, pulled up halter style showing off most of her 44DD's and the diamond navel stud. Her pink cowboy boots just added that bit of old cartoon stereotyping necessary for a bimbo like her. She'd stand there holding up a toilet plunger or can of potato chips with one hand and fluffing her blonde curls with the other, giving her hips a shake as every car went by on the road. Amazing how many jerks would actually stop just to see her, buying something just to feel like they had to, ignoring the high mark up price.

But I had no revenge on the store owner. Just his employee. So I waited three days sitting in the diner across the road watching her movements, not the hips, but when she took off for the little girl's room out back. On the fourth day I paid the bill at the diner and went out the side door, down behind two store fronts and then crossed the street, and came in behind the Economy Store's rear entrance.

As expected Candy bounced her way around the store rather than thru it to get to the restroom in the back. I stood behind a pile of empty boxes by the dump bin, then as soon as she was out of sight of anyone in the front or across the street I came up behind her, chloroformed her mouth and dragged her up the slope to the old road where I had left my truck that day. I stuffed her on the back seat and drove her over to the alleyway that passed by the rear of Harley Martin's house.

He seemed to live fairly well, nice one story, with a deck built over the garage so he could see over the yards to the river just a few hundred feet away. His backyard was cluttered with all his toys. A jet ski, a broken down motorcycle, and a four wheel ATV, its tires still muddy from its last ride along the levee road. He was at work and the neighbors didn't seem to be around but I drove on by anyway, parking down at the end of the alley. Rolled Candy into a tarp and dragged her the quarter mile back to Harley's house, easily opened the barb wire fence gate and unloaded Candy on the ground.

She started to come to right after I had stripped off her shirt, to reveal her melons and the heart tattoo on the left one that said 'I love my Andy'. Andy? I thought she was Harley's girl. This would work out even better. I slapped her fully awake.

"What, what are you doing?"

"Why can't you bimbos figure out what a man wants with a woman? I'm going to fuck you, of course."

That didn't seem to concern her. "Do I know you?"she asked. I shook my head and undid the belt to her shorts. She looked around. "Hey, this is Harley's place." I nodded, pulling down her panties to reveal the rectangle of dark black hair. Fake boobs, fake blonde, should have expected that. I asked if she was Andy's girl squeezing the tit right at the tattoo. "I sure am, and I don't think he'll take kindly to you handling his property."

"He doesn't seem to mind handling other people's property."

"What's that mean?"

And I told him what he and the others had done to Jill. “Well, boys gotta be boys, ain't they?” I looked around and the muffler cone for the motorcycle was detached and laying nearby. I picked it up and pressed it against her sex. She stopped her wiggling. "You said fuck, not with that you ain't." She was about to scream when I bashed her jaw with the tube, just enough to knock her out for a moment. I checked out the ATV, the key to it was still in the ignition. I drove it over to her and hauled her up on it, head on the seat, butt just touching the small dashboard, and then the legs spread out on the handlebars. I needed something to hold her down.

The barbed wire fence was rather appropriate I thought. And so found pliers, snips, and work gloves and carefully cut the fence apart and bound Candy's lower legs to her thighs and then to the handlebars. I really enjoyed running the wire around each tit and then around the seat to capture her neck. Then a final strip that hooked around the gas pedal, right between her sex lips, and then up to wrap around her forehead. She was awake now, with an extra glove stuffed into her mouth. I held her head up as I finished the wrapping job around her head. She murmured her pain. And I said I didn't care. Then yanked the diamond stub from her navel. The blood there mingled with all the cuts from the barb wire. Then I turned the ignition on.

The ATV rumbled. And I let go of her very surprised head. She could stop the forward motion of the ATV by resting her head back and feeling the wire cut into her sex as she did so. But, as I figured, she lifted her head to see her situation and the ATV jerked forward. She shook her legs and the ATV turned to the left and then right and then back left again managing to clip a bit of the wire fence into the front tire. She still wasn't aware of how she was rigged, or just too stupid to simply lay her head down and pull the gas pedal up to stop it. But of course, brake line was cut so there was really no way it was going to stop unless she crashed directly into one of the trees.

I looked around to see if any of the neighbors were watching. Then I took up her phone and filmed her excited ramble across the alley into the woods and down to the river. This was even better. The ATV cut down one small tree and a low limb scraped along her right side, cutting into her thigh, ribs, tit and shoulder. She squirmed which only made the wire cut deeper into her horny body. I ran after to get a good shot of her spread open bloodied sex. Then she lay her head back down and the ATV slowed to a minute crawl. But she still didn't catch on that she was responsible for the momentary halt.

I held the camera phone up to catch her face. She looked up and spat the glove out and gave me a horrendous curse. "This hurts my titties, you cocker spaniel." But the ATV jerked forward again and bounced over a log that almost over turned it, finally setting back down as it tottered on the embankment. I knelt down beside it and did a close up all Candy's poor body, all wrapped in wire, screaming one profanity after another. It didn't occur to her that I was using her own phone. She lifted her head to try and spit at me, but the ATV jerked once more and went over the edge. The river there was cordoned off by several ages of driftwood, a murky texture to the water. She went down up to her waist, the engine sputtering mud up at me so that I had to move away and take a view from a few yards away.

What a sight. Half of her and the ATV underwater, slowly sinking. She was screaming, but thankfully someone on the other side of the river was using a chainsaw to cut wood. It took several minutes and the phone battery was beeping its nearly empty status. I hoped I could film it entirely. Suddenly, something must have given way in the water below the ATV, because it dropped almost completely down, only a few strands of her hair on the water and the tail end of the now dead ATV remained in view. And with that the battery also died.

I looked around, no one evidently had watched this except me, so I returned to Harley's house, broke in and looked around. Big screen TV of course, computer without a security log on. Lots of porn, usual rough stuff gangbangs. Including some homemade. I found a blank disc and downloaded that, took the SD card out of Candy's phone and put the phone on top of a case of beer beside the refrigerator. Then hung Candy's navel stud on Harley's high school football trophy. Then departed, sure no one had seen me.

Had it only been a week since I first saw her. It had been early morning and I had thought to do some fishing down close to the bridge. The sun hadn't risen yet but I could see the item stuck against a log in the river. At first I took it to be another log, but logs didn't have faded brand names. I waded out and discovered Jill unconscious, nearly drowned, wrapped in a plastic onion bag. I dragged the whole thing up on a sandbank and using the snippets in my tackle box carefully cut most of the bag off her. One soft breast wore a metal clamp crushing the nipple. She had been whipped, and though the river had washed away most of the blood trails, it was obvious she had been violated very brutally. I carried her the hundred or so yards back to the cabin I was staying at and laid her down on the bed. Her eyes opened and was immediately terrified. I told her I was trying to save her.

She had been kicked in the throat and couldn't talk. I told her I was going to call for a doctor and the local deputy sheriff. She grabbed my hand and shook her head. That's when I realized I had witnessed her being thrown off the bridge the night before. I had only been in the cabin one full day and had finally got myself settled away when I decided to go sit out by the river, smoke a cigar, and watch the sky. It was just after midnight and I could see figures on the bridge, backlit by a light farther up the river. Four figures easing an item over the side of the bridge and down into the water.

The four had done this to her. Hoping she would either sink in the deep section or be found who knows how far down river. I asked her if this is what had happened and she nodded. I found my pen and an envelope and she scrawled as best she could: Sheriff one of them.

I returned to the cabin and released Jill from the bed cuffs. Still too weak to fight my hauling her by her upper arms to the center post. I stood her against the post and raised each arm up into the cuffs I had arranged. Her voice was still shallow and scruffy from the kick they had done to her throat.

“Wha...why?”

Because I want to, because I can, because you are so damn cute, and hell, after what I've just done for you, I really want some compensation. “Because I'm damn horny,” was my short form answer. And I raised the other weak arm while she tried to fight me off. Too soon for that. Standing here being fucked would give her ample chance to strengthen her arms and leg muscles. I dropped the pajama bottoms she wore and opened the shirt to take a good hold of those cute, very grippable breasts. This time I wanted to hear her screams of profanity as I thrust hard into her. I wanted to feel her soft young body struggling against me with moans and curses and whimpers as she came before and after my own discharge. And then I let her continue to stand on her toes half slumped forward, big glaring eyes at me as I rested in the old rocking chair, before I rose and made dinner for us.

“Why?” she asked between bites of the cornbread which only once did she spit back onto my face.

“I'm revenging your rape on those idiots. I want you to recover.”

Her eyes changed to disbelief; and as I fed her the stew, reviewing the first revenge, those light blue eyes grew oh so more lovely. But the glare came back when I spoon fed her the ice cream she had told me she liked. Every mouthful of that meant a flogging of her body, not so hard as had been done to her already, but to keep her from becoming a mewing slave. I wanted her to challenge me, however tied she may be, I wanted to see her struggle. I would tape her mouth from now on during those sessions although I had already learned the sound of the TV turned all the way up hardly carried to the cabin's fence line. I had no worries from the neighbors, I just didn't care for her profanity. But I did love her cute body from any and every angle, bound or not, and the way she felt against me, crying or coming. There wasn't anything I would not now do for her. Or to her.

I went into the town on the other side of the river and picked up medical supplies and food, careful not to make it look like I was doing it for two people, spreading my purchases around, and as a new person in the area, getting to know who was who. I also called on some people who owed me favors, a state highway patrol man who gave me a rundown on the Sheriff and the community, a doctor who cleaned the girl's wounds and provided me with necessary medications, and a guy in the security business who supplied me with some interesting items.

There were two bedrooms in the cabin, she would stay in one when not on display for me in the main room, or later on the rear porch post. I stayed in the other considering what to do. It didn't take long to learn that there was a certain clique in town comprising the deputy sheriff, Harley, Andy, Dean,and the town's most respected preacher. It was their, somewhat upstanding, community against this girl who had just been hitchhiking thru the town, picked up well outside of town by Harley, brought back to the rear of the town jail, tasered, stripped, raped in a cell then taken out to a junkyard where she had endured more whippings and three-some rapes by the deputy and his three friends, and watched over by the minister. How could I get to them?

Took two days of thought, and then it came to me as I lay on top of their victim, Jill,caressing the nipple that was showing increased revitalization. I kissed her taped mouth and her cute nose, then mounted her and with each thrust I set out each section of my plan in my mind. And when it was over, she would owe me big time.

And thus the first revenge had gone off remarkably well. I also had taken the time to place small cameras supplied by my security friend. One that overlooked poor Candy's resting place. Another that gave me a view of the back yard. A third the trophy room.

That part of my plan didn't work as well as I hoped. If Candy was Andy's girlfriend then finding her dead body on Harley's property should cause friction, maybe even one killing the other. Both Andy and Harley came back to his place late, without either noticing the torn open rear gate, missing ATV, or the phone on the case of beer. They had a couple of beers before passing out in the trophy room.

The next morning they slept in until Dean arrived. Harley and Andy had been athletic champions, now one running the junkyard, while the other was the general handyman around town. Dean was obviously not someone who tried out for sports let alone earn a letter. Yet he sported a letter jacket, supplied by his butch sister, Diana, another deputy. Dean was there to get his friends ready for some barbecue party at his house.

While the two woke up it was Dean who found Candy's navel stud, pointing to it like it was a hazardous item. Andy looked it over, but didn't get riled about it. That's when the phone was finally noticed. And the two athletes wandered outside watching it with Dean trying to get a good look over their shoulder. Then Harley noticed the hole in his gate. He first accused Andy of causing him to drive thru it last night. Then they finally got thru all the messages to find the new video.

I was already working on part two. I had found out that the deputy sheriff's handsome MILF worked most days in the Capital and only came home on the weekends, one reason why the deputy had so much available time to abuse hitchhikers. She was due back on the afternoon state operated train service. The train station was on my side of the river from the town and she usually left her car in the parking lot there, all week long.

I was there to greet her, not as she got off in case anyone should remember me, but at the parking lot where her car had two flats. I was there for some reason and offered to give her a ride into town. She smiled and said sure. And I chloroformed his face and put her in the back of my truck, drove two miles along the train tracks and dumped her out. Stripped that nice body. She certainly worked out when away from hubby. She started to come to as I finished tying her spread across the tracks, Snidely Whiplash style. She screamed but a train whistle in the distance drowned her out. I smiled and set up a mini-camera in the nearby bushes then drove a quarter mile away. It was so nice watching her struggle on the hard concrete ties, gravel ballast, and hot steel rails. The train would come around a bend and not see her until too late. I closed the laptop just as the lead unit was about to cut her wrists and ankles, not just the bindings, and drag her several yards down the rail line. I hated seeing that done to such a nice body, but I had a better one waiting for me in the cabin.

The train murder was sensationalized all over the country, although my camera view of it was not among the many posted pics. The sheriff was notified as he was trying to help haul the ATV out of the river. Oddly, Andy did not seem offended by the evidence of his girl friend's murder by supposedly his best friend. One problem I had overlooked was the timer on the phone video. Harley was with Andy at the junkyard at the time.

Thus revenge number one hadn't really worked as I hoped, and number two brought too much attention to the area. That ended a few days later when an unrelated mass murder upstate took the media representatives away. I was ready with number three.

But in the meantime, I had to celebrate number two with a good Jill fucking, maybe this time with her bent over with her head banging against the post while I alternated between her other entrances. A good flogging of her sex allowed her to have a double scoop of ice cream while I began to outline my initial in the stubble on her mound.

I discovered that Andy was now courting the minister's daughter, Charity. She was a typical honor student, lead singer in the church choir, and of course, the one to go to for weird illegal drugs. I hadn't yet figured her into the revenge plan when deputy Diana showed up at my door.

Buxom, and well muscled, I knew it would take some doing to overwhelm this woman. Besides, I couldn't do it here at the cabin. But she was there just to ask a question about my truck, one of those ubiquitous big pickups. Luckily I had not drawn it from the motor pool as was my usual case but been loaned to me by someone who owed me a favor. A similar truck had been spotted at the rail station. But make and color was not verifiable.

I showed Diana my credentials and said yes I had gone to the Capital on business but had been called just as I arrived at the station that I was no longer needed to come in person. And no, I had not seen the sheriff's wife. Yes, indeed, it was 'dastardly'. Would the deputy like to come inside for cup of tea? No? Anything else? Oh, yes, the fishing was quite good. Caught a nice one my first day.

I waited for the deputy to depart and decided to follow. She lived with her brother on the other side of the town and was allowed to take her sheriff's SUV home. She also used the alley to park her truck. I drove up behind her. “Excuse me, deputy. I just remembered something that might be beneficial to your investigation. “ She smiled and took out her PDA to take down my statement while I smiled looking at the big outdoor spit barbecue.

She looked up in time to see the tire iron. Took four more wallops to bring her to her knees and one to her gun hand to drop it off the holster. I took the gun and although all this was happening in her backyard, once more the neighbors were not bothering to watch. I stripped her, not happy with her tattoos, and spent quite a bit of time hefting her up onto the grill, then awakening her as I began to run the spit between her labia. But a good shove and something inside her burst and her eyes seemed to get big. I left off trying to run the spit all the way thru, just got the fire going and pouring some sauce over her small for her size tits. I ran to my truck and started to drive away.

Got half way down to the next street when I remembered the gun. I looked in the rear view mirror to see if I could back up and there was Diana's SUV pulling out and turning towards me. Damn, she wasn't dead, and probably really pissed. And with her gun. I drove like a madman and soon lost her in the maze of suburban housing.

I drove back to the cabin and for once did not go immediately to release Jill and have some much needed pleasuring. No, I was scared, probably for the first time in my life. I had to ditch the truck and then, and then what? Get out of town and return to the safety of my own city and job. But should I take Jill with me?

I took a full bottle of whiskey out of the case I had brought. When I woke it was midday the next day. The local radio station, one of the few that actually gave out local news in the entire state, was reporting the gruesome murders.

It seems Dean had rode his bicycle home from his job at the supermarket and found his sister brutally murdered in the backyard, details not available. He had seen a truck he recognized, and taking his sister's loaded gun had driven across town and emptied the shells into the manager of the junkyard. It seems Harley was being investigated for the death of popular Candy Morris, and possibly the gruesome murder of the deputy sheriff's wife. Motive was not known at this time. Dean had saved one shot for himself and thus was forever unavailable for comment.

It hadn't worked out the way I had originally planned but it had worked out rather well. I celebrated by barbecuing a steak dinner out on the porch that night, with Jill hung upside down for the evening's entertainment. With her hands tied behind her back she tried to climb the vine wrapped around a post, in an effort to put her head above her heart. She looked so adorable doing this that I didn't whip her but just poured the ice cream onto her sex and watched it melt down her torso, between her breasts,and along her neck. I was sure she was loosing interest in this particular favorite dessert. Would she like hot apple pie instead? Or both? Her answer was somewhat muffled.

Getting revenge on Andy was proving difficult, until a late night choir rehearsal gave me the opportunity I needed. Charity was usually the last one to close up the church at such rehearsals. So I waited for everyone to leave, Andy sent out of town by a non-existent job offer across the state. I met her at the door as she was ready to lock up.

I easily chloroformed her and being the smallest of the women I had been handling here I was able to haul her up into the church steeple. I brought along enough tools and invoiced sections of wood with Andy's name on it. Took most of the night to strip Charity, take advantage of that well rounded small body, nail her to the crossbeams, edge her out the one window that overlooked the main street, and secure the ropes to the beams. I went downstairs and found the electrical box that would light up the steeple and play the loud recording of bell ringing. I turned them on and ran like hell out of the church and up into the woods and finally around to the cabin.

Took Jill out onto the porch and let her see the steeple thru a gap in the trees. She was quiet and not because of the gag. She turned and leaned against me as if to say thank you. For a moment I wanted to release her from the binds and make love to her as I should. But that moment came and went the moment I felt her nip against my shirt. Hell. I was horny and I had her over the porch railing, on the kitchen floor, and in her bed where I fell asleep, believing the end was over.

But while that was playing out at the cabin, the minister had arrived to see the sight of townspeople gawking at his naked daughter, crucified, and hanging out of his steeple. He ran into the church but as he came past the last step he tripped the booby trap and his hand just missed his daughter falling the forty feet to the hard cement steps below.

Andy arrived the next day only to be arrested for the murder of Charity. The sheriff now placed all the murders squarely on Andy. That Andy was found dead in his cell the next day hung by a pillowcase came as no surprise. Nor the subsequent mental breakdown by the minister.

All those involved with the rape of Jill had been dealt with. Or so I thought. I still had three days left on my vacation and I was still undecided what to do with Jill. She was on the bed, spread so invitingly, so vulnerable, so damn sexy. But I had to think things over and poured myself a whiskey, and sat down in the rocker. I must have dozed off.

I woke up in time to see the Sheriff standing over me aiming the nightstick at my face. I awoke next out on the porch, my hands tied behind my back. I rolled over and saw Jill tied to the post, this time with fishing line cutting deeply into all the spots I most enjoyed. She hung her black eyed, ungagged face but was still awake enough to whisper “This really hurts you pig.” The sheriff was in the rocker drinking straight from a whiskey bottle.

“I'm thinking this. You picked her up and abused her terribly. Then she managed to find this here gun, Harley's by the way, but I'm the only one who knows that. Anyway, I arrive but not in time, she kills you and then I'm forced to kill her. That way there is no tie in with all the stuff you've been doing to my town, my friends....” he polished off that bottle and reached for another on the table. I rolled over causing the table to collapse over me. It caused him to get up, step around holding the new whiskey bottle in front of him. He wavered in his movement and fell back against Jill. She reacted by biting into his ear, in fact tearing it off. He screamed. I was in such a position that I kicked straight at him, breaking the whiskey bottle against his crotch. Probably not doing in bodily damage but rather humiliating. He pulled his gun out to shoot me or her, one hand holding his ear, his screams echoing off the porch onto the river.

She butted her head against the sore side of his head and he stumbled again, this time sliding across the whiskey trail and onto the steps leading down off the porch. knocking himself out. He had not handcuffed me, another bit of luck, as I was able to cut the rope with the broken table leg. I released Jill and took her to the bed, not to tie her up but to apply the necessary medications. She stopped me and whispered: the onion bag.

And the sheriff, this time handcuffed, was wrapped in the leftover bag and pushed out into the river, not yet found after all these months. So what do you think?

“This will not do, Phil. This girl signing off on the murders of those other girls. It will not hold up in a court.” The state supreme court justice tossed the documents onto the table.

“You forget that I'm the state's deputy attorney general. I know what is evidence, what is a proper confession, and what can be simple blackmail.”

He looked up at that last line. I poured him another whiskey.

“I didn't invite you down here to go fishing. I know you don't do that.” I walked to the door to Jill's room and opened it. She had evidently been listening and stepped back. Her pretty body had healed well and in the soft room lamp her naked skin seemed to shimmer.

I reached in and grabbed her by her hair and led her over to him and turned her around and bent her over to show off all her wonderful charms. I sat in my rocker and watched as he cuddled with her, probing all her entrances, and getting in a bite on the bigger nipple. She was strong enough to fight him off, but not both of us. She would be between us a several times that night.

And now I had another person who owed me a favor.

Oh, I do love power. And you know, I think I may even love Jill.

(During his second term as State Attorney General, Phil was nominated for the vacancy on the State Supreme Court. But during the confirmation proceedings, certain documents and secretly filmed evidence was presented. Jill firmly stood beside her husband, in public, while privately screwing him in a much less physical manner. Her revenge. Even spitting on his grave after his massive coronary.

Or at least that's the story she's been telling me on these long nights tied on the cabin bed while I apply my own feminine style of massage therapy upon that still damn cute body.)