****** Playing the Game by loopy ******
===============================================================================

Playing the Game


I've decided that men are in their prime between the ages of 21 and about 26 or
27. Whether that's actually true or not doesn't matter to me at all. Since it
is only my beliefs and feelings that are important in this game I play - I call
it a game to emphasize the fun I have with it - the truth becomes less
important than my perceptions. You see, who cares what the so-called experts
say when I am the one in control? If I was the absolute ruler of the world, I
would define truth, wouldn't I? It follows, then, that when I'm playing the
game, what I think, believe and feel become truth - because I'm the one in
control.

Rape is an act of power. I've heard experts say that in the past, but I'm
confirming it now. I have been largely unimpressed with the news reports I've
read about most rapists. So they fuck a few people - bitches, usually - against
their will. What's so impressive about that? It's been done before. And if they
get caught - and even if they get tried and convicted - who remembers their
names? The victim does - and I'm sure the rapist wakes up in his jail cell in
the middle of the night with a woody, thinking about the fact that the bitch he
raped still fears him even though she knows he's locked away. But who else
remembers him? No one. Not unless, through his crimes, he really showed himself
to understand the meaning of power. Not unless he really left his mark on the
world. Then someone writes a book about him, and every evening he can sit in
his jail cell jerking his cock while he reads that book - knowing that all
sorts of people all over the world have bought enough copies to make it a best-
seller, wanting to read about his exploits. Now, that's power.

I'm sure it goes without saying, but I put a lot of thought into the game -
played it over and over again in my mind - before the first time I played it
for real. That's when I decided that men are in their prime from 21 to 27. It
was important for me to decide that, because to best demonstrate my power, I
believe it makes sense to take power away from the most powerful - and
remember, when I'm playing the game, what I believe becomes truth. So all of
the thought I put into the game helped me to define who my victims would be -
and the first criterion was that they be young men. So, besides youth, what
else gives men power? Strength, beauty, success - financial and otherwise - all
came to be added to the profile of my perfect victim. And last - but perhaps
most important - it was imperative that the men not know me. Some rapists fuck
victims that are known to them - big deal. No one fears a rapist like that. A
huge part of the incredible feeling of power comes after the deed is done -
when the media talks endlessly about the crime, and fear spreads through the
community. In my mind, each man who fears me without even knowing who I am is a
man at my mercy.

--------------------------------------------------

VICTIM #1

It was a Monday night, well after midnight. I'd been sitting out in my car for
several nights in a row, watching men who fit the profile of the victim I was
after, with a boner in my jeans. A few times, when I'd seen a man I knew would
work just fine, I felt my heart pounding in my throat, wondering if the moment
to strike was right. Remember, this was my first time - despite the fact that I
knew I'd be in total control, I was still nervous about pulling the act off as
planned. The worst thing that could have happened would have been to get caught
at this stage of the game.

I saw a young man and his girlfriend walking hand in hand. They were talking
and smiling - probably young love. I checked off the criteria in my mind - he
was about 24, maybe 6' tall, good shape, dirty blond hair that hung in his
eyes, and a cute smile. He was well dressed, had a beautiful woman on his arm,
and looked like a happy man. And best of all, he kissed his girlfriend and
watched as she walked to her apartment entrance by herself, waving at him from
the door - which meant he was now alone.

"The worst part will be if he fights me and I have to shoot him," I thought,
putting the car into gear. If he didn't live to tell others about how it felt
to be raped by me, the game wouldn't be nearly as fun.

I saw him turn into an alley, and felt my heart beating wildly. I drove up
slowly behind him, initially not wanted to get too close. When he was about
half way through the block, I turned in to follow. It was a cool night, and I
could see his breath as he exhaled. I came up from behind him, and saw him
glance back at me. I pulled up beside him. I felt the cold steel of the gun in
my hand. I opened my window. He looked at me. The gun was pointing at him. I
saw fear in his eyes. I felt incredible.

"GET IN THE CAR." My voice was firm and confident.

He looked around wildly, trying to decide if he should run.

I raise the gun menacingly. "GET IN THE CAR!"

All of the experts will tell you that you should never get in the car when
someone like me tells you to do so. You're better to take your chances running
or fighting - you're more likely to survive that way. Luckily, this guy didn't
know that. He got in the car.

"What do You want?" he asked, his voice quivering.

"YOUR WALLET." I didn't want him to know what else I was after yet.

He passed me his wallet and I began to slowly drive away. I opened it and
pulled out his driver's license. His name was Matthew.

It felt so good to have him shaking beside me. I could see him glancing around
as we drove, trying to find a good spot to jump out of the car. I heard him
fumbling to find the handle on the passenger-side door - but he didn't find it.
I removed it earlier in the week.

I knew exactly where we were heading - to a parkade not far from where I'd
picked Matthew up, where you can park all night. It has six levels, all under
ground. At that hour, there are a few cars there, but only on the top floor of
the parkade. We were going to the bottom.

He began whimpering. He asked several times what I was up to, but I chose not
to respond. I was still nervous, but as we got closer and closer to our final
destination, my nervousness subsided and my anticipation built.

The bottom floor of the parkade was deserted except for my car. I pulled up
next to the sign marked EXIT. I reached into the back seat and grabbed my gym
bag - it had a few important items in it. I got out of the car, walked around
to the passenger door, and opened it for Matthew, motioning with the gun that
he should get out. I passed his wallet back to him, keeping only his drivers
license. I kept it so that I would have a photo of him. It would come in useful
later - I planned to look at it tomorrow while jerking off, thinking about our
time together.

We walked through the door under the sign marked EXIT. It leads to the stairs,
but we wouldn't be going that far. Instead, we'd be spending the next while in
the 8' by 8' little room that separates the parkade from the stairs - at that
hour, it offered us complete privacy.

I dropped the gym bag into the corner, raised the gun up to Matthew's face, and
watched as his face twisted in fear. I knew he was about to cry.

"No," he said hoarsely, shaking his head back and forth. "Please, no."

I smiled. Already he was begging, and I hadn't even told him to yet.

"TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES," I commanded him, waving the gun around.

A new fear gripped his face. He hesitated. I cocked the gun. He began to slip
off his coat. He was shaking.

I decided to play it safe. This being my first time, I didn't want anything to
go wrong. While Matthew stripped, I pulled ropes and handcuffs from the gym
bag. He let out an involuntary whimper when he saw them. It echoed in our
little room.

Once he was naked, I told him to face the wall - he complied. I came up behind
him, shoving my gun up his ass.

"PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK."

I placed the handcuffs on him.

"NOW TURN AROUND."

I watched him glance at my jeans - he noticed my hard cock pressing against the
fabric. It confirmed his fears. He glanced up at the ceiling - perhaps offering
up a quick prayer. His face contorted like he was close to tears, but no water
fell from his eyes.

He was beautiful. His chest was defined, the result of many hours in the gym.
He was big and strong - but he was at my mercy.

"KNEEL."

"Please, no," he begged. My cock stiffened more in my jeans.

"KNEEL DOWN!!!" My voice echoed loudly.

He knelt before me as I stood two feet in front of him, pointing the gun at his
forehead.

"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME." I could feel an evil smile spreading across my face. He
started to cry.

"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!" I shouted.

"i can't," he said in a quiet, pathetic voice.

"DO IT!!!"

He looked down. I saw two wet tears drop to the floor. There was a powerful
struggle occurring in his mind.

"DO IT!!!"

"i love You," he whispered.

Two more tears hit the floor.

"AGAIN. LOUDER!"

"i love You."

"LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU SAY IT!"

There were a few seconds of silence before he slowly looked up. The look on his
face had changed. His face was wet but he was no longer crying. His look was
one of determination. I could tell that he'd decided to try to survive. He
looked directly into my eyes.

"i love You," he said, almost like he meant it. I smiled.

"I KNOW YOU DO. YOU WORSHIP ME, DON'T YOU?"

"Yes."

"SAY IT."

"i worship You."

"THEN BOW DOWN AND KISS MY FEET."

His eyes narrowed. He wanted to survive, but it was hard to convince himself to
completely surrender his pride to me. I allowed him some time to experience the
mental struggle - the way it played out on his face entertained me.

"BOW DOWN AND WORSHIP ME."

His actions were slow. He spread his knees further apart to help himself stay
balanced. He bent forward. I knew as he began to bow that he was thinking that
he should have fought me earlier. He was regretting how he'd handled the
situation at the beginning. If he'd known what was coming, he'd have struggled
when he still had a fighting chance.

I undid my jeans and pulled out my cock while he kissed me feet. He kissed each
foot once.

"KISS THEM MORE," I commanded.

Over and over again, his lips touched my old, worn running shoes. I decided
that I'd leave them for him as a present once we were through.

"TAKE THE LACES IN YOUR TEETH - UNTIE THEM FOR ME."

He sucked the ends of the laces into his teeth, raising his head to untie my
sneakers.

"NOW TAKE THEM OFF MY FEET."

"How?"

"JUST DO IT!"

I raised my feet, one at a time, allowing Matthew to pull them off with his
teeth. "GET BACK UP ON YOUR KNEES."

Once again he was facing me. He glanced at my hard cock, and then looked up in
my eyes. I smiled.

"HAVE YOU EVER BEEN RAPED?"

For a quick second, the fear in his eyes returned, but he quickly recovered -
he didn't want me to see the how difficult this was for him. I saw anyway, but
I was impressed at his efforts.

"No," he said quietly, "i've never been raped."

"I'M GOING TO RAPE YOU TONIGHT. YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO FORGET ME."

I saw his mind at work - he was pretty sure I'd just told him that I was
planning to allow him to live, by implying that he'd be around to remember me
well into the future.

"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME."

"i love You."

I was impressed with how quickly he responded. He'd decided that if he pleased
me, he'd survive with his life. But it dawned on me that it was too easy for
him at that point. The first time I'd asked him to tell me he loved me, it was
a struggle. This time, it took little effort. It wasn't fun when it was too
easy.

I stepped forward. "SUCK MY COCK."

This part wasn't easy for him. I smiled as he stared at my cock poking at his
nose. I placed my gun at his temple. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips
around the head of my dick.

"THIS IS WHAT IT'S LIKE FOR YOUR GIRLFRIEND WHEN SHE SUCKS YOU OFF," I said,
chuckling slightly.

His body stiffened and he jerked his head back - dropping my cock from his
mouth. I realized that the thought that I knew where his girlfriend lived had
just struck him. I decided to play with his fear.

"THAT'S RIGHT. I KNOW WHERE SHE LIVES. AND IF I'M NOT SEXUALLY SATISFIED BY THE
TIME WE'RE FINISHED HERE TONIGHT, I'LL BE HEADING TO HER PLACE FOR SOME MORE."

"Please don't," he said, his voice betraying his fear.

"YOU DON'T THINK I SHOULD?" I said coyly.

"No. Please don't hurt her," he begged.

I smiled. "SHUT UP AND SUCK MY COCK."

I could tell he wanted to say more, but he decided he was better off obeying
me. He took my cock in his mouth again, this time with far less hesitancy. I'd
given him another good reason to do it right.

I grabbed his hair and fucked his face, forcing my cock into his throat and
making him choke. He was having trouble breathing.

"YOU HAVEN'T DONE THIS MUCH, HAVE YOU?" I laughed. "BUT THAT'S OKAY - I LOVE IT
WHEN YOU GAG LIKE THAT."

I fucked his face harder, my hard cock throbbing wildly. It felt so fucking
good. Finally I pulled out, and Matthew heaved a heavy sigh of relief at being
allowed to finally catch his breath. My cock was red and wet with his saliva.

"TURN AROUND. I'M GOING TO FUCK YOU NOW."

He looked frightened and defeated, but slowly he turned his body and leaned
forward, pointing his ass into the air.

"Please be gentle," he whimpered. I laughed loudly. It echoed.

I came up behind him and bent my knees, poking my cock into his crack. I placed
the gun at the side of his head to remind him who was in control, and I grabbed
onto his hair with my other hand. I pushed my cock head against his hole, and
pushed gently but forcefully until I could feel that I'd entered him slightly.
His body was tense and he breathed out short staccato bursts of air. I
tightened my grip on his hair, and thrust my body forward violently, forcing my
cock several inches up his hole. He screamed like he was being murdered.

"IT FEELS THAT GOOD, DOES IT MATTHEW?" I couldn't help but laugh.

I pulled back and thrust in again, even more violently.

"Please have mercy!" he screamed.

"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!"

"i love You! Please! You're killing me!"

I ignored him, thrusting my hips back and forth, fucking him wildly, laughing
at his cries. It felt so great to taunt him.

"YOU LIKE IT, DON'T YOU MATTHEW? TELL ME YOU LIKE IT."

"i like it." He began crying again.

"YOU LIKE BEING A FAGGOT, DON'T YOU MATTHEW."

"Yes, i like it."

"WHAT DO YOU LIKE?"

"i like being a faggot."

"SAY IT LOUDER."

"i like being a faggot!"

"YOU LIKE IT WHEN I FUCK YOU?"

"Yes."

"THEN TELL ME TO FUCK YOU HARDER."

He began crying harder.

"TELL ME TO FUCK YOU HARDER, FAGGOT!"

"Fuck me harder," he whimpered.

"ASK ME NICELY."

"Please fuck me harder."

"BEG! LOUD!"

He was completely defeated.

"Please! i beg You to fuck me harder!"

I pushed his face to the floor and continued to assault his hole with my cock,
making each thrust forward more forceful than the last until I was close to
cumming. I pulled out of Matthew's hole, pulling him up by the hair.

"TURN AROUND."

His body was almost limp, so relieved was he that I'd stopped fucking him, but
he managed to turn himself around and face me.

"LOOK AT MY COCK."

He obeyed, looking startled.

"WHAT'S THAT ON MY COCK, MATTHEW?"

He hesitated.

"WHAT'S ON MY COCK?!"

"Shit," he whispered hoarsely.

"YOU DISGUSTING PIG - WHAT'S YOUR FUCKING SHIT DOING ON MY COCK?"

"i don't know. i'm sorry."

"DID I ASK YOU TO APOLOGIZE?"

"No."

"THEN SHUT UP!!" I stared at him, relishing the moment. "NOW, CLEAN OFF MY
COCK."

He looked up at me, startled - not sure if he'd understood.

"TAKE IT IN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" I yelled, cocking the gun.

He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the head of my cock. His eyes were
tightly shut.

I grabbed his hair once again, and thrust my cock back into his throat. He
gagged and choked as I thrust back and forth.

"THAT'S RIGHT, MATTHEW. CLEAN THE SHIT FROM MY COCK."

His continued gagging turned me on, and I began to climax.

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING CUM!!"

I could feel the cum spurting over and over again into his throat. It was
making him choke more.

"SWALLOW IT!"

He tried to swallow but it was hard for him. He was whimpering as he tried to
force it down. I pulled my cock out and slapped it across his face a few times.
My face was radiant.

"WASN'T THAT GREAT?" I said smiling.

I allowed him just a few seconds to recover before I reached for the ropes in
the gym bag. I had Matthew lie down on his stomach on the floor, and I tied up
his feet. It was important that I made it so he couldn't get away. If he had
been allowed to walk from the scene before being discovered, he might have
chosen, due to his humiliation, never to report the incident to the police. If
that had happened, the media would never know about it. So I wrapped the rope
around his ankles, tying it tightly. Then I pulled it up and tied it to the
handcuffs on his wrists.

I reached back into my bag and pulled out a handkerchief. I wrapped it around
Matthew's face, using it to gag him.

"TELL ME YOU LOVE ME."

"i love You." His voice was muffled through the gag. I smiled.

I rolled him onto his side so he could look up at me.

"IT'S VERY IMPORTANT TO ME THAT THE POLICE BE INVOLVED IN SOLVING THIS
HORRENDOUS CRIME," I said to him mockingly.

I smiled. Then my smile turned to a look of anger as I realized how much hatred
I felt inside towards men like the one before me. I began kicking Matthew over
and over again in the stomach and chest. I wasn't wearing my shoes, but I was
still able to have quite an impact.

In a panting voice, I thanked him for our time together, kicking him violently
as I did so.

"I REALLY

*Kick*

WANT TO THANK YOU

*Kick*

FOR OUR TIME TOGETHER

*Kick*

YOU FUCKING

*Kick*

WORTHLESS

*Kick*

PIECE OF SHIT"

*Kick* *Kick* *Kick*

He thrashed around in pain, crying out through the gag. Each time I pulled my
foot back to kick him again, I could see him struggling to cringe - but the
ropes and handcuffs held him back. The wind was knocked out of him, and I
smiled at my absolute power over him as I tried to catch my breath after the
violent assault.

After a few seconds, I stood over him, my soft cock pointing down.

"I CLAIM YOU AS MY PROPERTY," I said in a calm voice, and began to piss on
Matthew's face, being sure to completely soak the gag in his mouth. Still
wincing in pain, he was struggling and squirming as I pissed in his hair and
his eyes. He choked as I pissed up his nose. I shook off the last drops and
pushed my cock back into my jeans.

I reached back again into my gym bag, pulling out a large black marker. Leaning
down, I wrote in huge, bold letters on Matthew's chest: HELP ME - I'VE BEEN
RAPED. Then I wrote across his forehead: VICTIM #1.

I grabbed my gym bag and turned to leave.

"HAVE A NICE LIFE!"

Noticing my shoes in the corner, I picked them up and threw them in front of
his face.

"SOMETHING TO REMEMBER ME BY. YOU CAN BOW DOWN AND KISS THEM THE NEXT TIME
YOU'RE JERKING OFF!" I laughed as his eyes squinted shut in humiliation.

With that, I returned to my car. As I drove out of the parkade, I congratulated
myself on how perfectly I'd pulled off my first rape.

---------------------------------------------

It didn't make the front page of the newspaper. I didn't really expect that it
would. But it wasn't mentioned in the paper at all - and that disappointed me.
In fact, it made me angry. Obviously there would need to be more than one
victim before the police and media would take my crime seriously. Unhappy that
I had no article to cut out and paste in the scrap book I had decided to
create, I pulled out the tape, and stuck Matthew's driver's license onto page
one. News paper articles would come at a later time.

It was now Friday - four days after the rape. I didn't wear a mask during the
assault, and I drove my own car, so I knew Matthew would have some pretty
important evidence to share with the police. Even though I have no previous
criminal record - making it harder for the police to track me down - I knew
that eventually I'd get caught. As unpleasant as that sounds, I knew that it
must happen if I was ever to go down in history - I can't become famous if the
police never learn who I am, can I?

So anyway, I felt under a certain amount of time pressure to make a big impact
on this city in a short time. If I didn't strike regularly, the police might
track me down before I'd made a decent name for myself as a notorious rapist.

----------------------------------------------

VICTIM #2

I parked across the street from a popular bar. It attracts a real redneck crowd
- a lot of young men with too much testosterone, wearing tight clothing, and
trying to look tough to impress the dumb blond bitches in tight little skirts
wearing too much make-up. It's the kind of place where if you accidentally bump
into the wrong guy as you're trying to make your way through the crowd, he may
just turn around and slug you to prove to everyone around how cool he is. I
hate men like that. It made this bar the perfect hunting ground for victim #2.

The bar was closing and the patrons began pouring out. Taxi cabs were lined up
in a row, but there weren't enough of them for all of the people needing a
ride. When the last taxi drove away, little groups of young adults huddled
together talking and laughing, waiting for the next cab to arrive.

In one of the small crowds just across from my car, there was a man of about 25
years who was talking very loudly - probably partially because he'd had too
much to drink, and partially because he thought that everything he had to say
was so important that everybody should hear it. He was wearing snug-fitting
jeans and a tight white t-shirt. His chest was well-defined and he was a pretty
big guy - probably 6'3" and about 220 lbs.

"i have to piss," he yelled out, as if everyone around him should care. Rather
than going back into the bar to use the bathroom, he walked up to a shrub near
the door and whipped out his cock to piss on it. He was cocky and arrogant -
clearly he had a big dick, and he was pleased to pull it out for all to see. He
finished pissing and shook it around more than necessary before stuffing it
back into his jeans.

A few taxis arrived simultaneously, and the guy who took the piss yelled good-
night to his friends, getting into one of the cabs by himself.

I smiled.

I followed the taxi as it wove through streets in the night. We ended up in a
residential area, and the cab pulled up in front of an old house not far from
one of the colleges in town. The man jumped out and headed around the side of
the house. I was close on his tail, so that just as he was putting his key in
the door to the basement suite of the house, I came up from behind him and
shoved the cold steel of my gun into his temple.

"MOVE AND YOU DIE."

He hesitated, and I knew that he was thinking about whether or not to elbow me
in the stomach. I tightened my grip on the gun.

"I SWEAR TO GOD - IF YOU TRY STRUGGLING, I'LL KILL YOU."

"What do You want?" he asked angrily. I smiled at his tone - I knew I might
need to work a bit harder to break this one.

"TAKE ME INSIDE," I demanded.

I shoved the gun into his temple forcefully.

He opened the door and we entered, closing the door behind us. It was a small
bachelor suite - basically one big room except for the bathroom off to the
side. I was relieved that there was clearly no one else there.

I had him turn to face me. I stood several feet from him, looking him up and
down. I was sure he was afraid, but his fear came across more like anger. I
knew he was thinking that he could easily take me down if I didn't have the gun
- he was considerably bigger than I am.

Once again, I'd brought along my gym bag, and I reached inside of it for the
handcuffs. I knew that it was important to immobilize this guy as soon as
possible, because if he decided to try to tackle me, the situation could get
ugly.

"GO INTO THE BATHROOM," I commanded him.

"Why?" he asked, still acting brave.

"DON'T ASK QUESTIONS - JUST DO AS I SAY."

He hesitated.

"IF YOU FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS, YOU'LL LIVE. IF YOU DON'T, YOU'LL DIE. IT'S
THAT SIMPLE." I glared at him to reinforce my words. He glared back at me and
then walked toward the bathroom. I followed him. He flipped on the light.

"KNEEL IN FRONT OF THE TOILET," I commanded, waving the gun towards the bowl.

"What? Fuck You!" he said, his body stiffening.

I raised the gun and pointed it directly at his face.

"YOU'RE TRYING MY PATIENCE."

"Why do You want me in front of the toilet?" he said, with less confidence in
his voice.

"BECAUSE I'M GOING TO CUFF YOU AROUND THE TOILET BOWL. THEN I'M GOING TO STEAL
A FEW THINGS FROM YOUR PLACE AND I'LL BE ON MY WAY. IF ALL GOES WELL, YOU WON'T
GET SHOT IN THE PROCESS."

He glared at me, hesitating once again. I sighed heavily and tightened my grip
on the gun.

"OK. SAY GOOD-BYE," I said in a resigned tone. It worked.

"Ok, ok. Don't shoot me - i'll do it."

He turned toward the toilet and slowly began to kneel.

"MUCH BETTER."

I tossed him the handcuffs and instructed him to reach his arms around the
toilet and put the cuffs on. I could hear them clicking into place. I came up
beside him and reached down to make sure they were on tightly. I tightened both
of them. He glared at me.

I reached into the gym bag and pulled out some rope. I wrapped it around his
ankles, tying them tightly together. Only when he was fully secure did I allow
myself to relax. Then I knew that the next hour with my new friend would go
okay.

I reached my hand into the man's front jeans pocket.

"What the fuck are You doing?" he demanded, again sounding tough despite his
position handcuffed to the toilet bowl.

"GETTING YOUR WALLET. WHAT ELSE?"

I grinned at him, pulling at the wallet.

"YOUR JEANS ARE PRETTY FUCKING TIGHT," I smiled. He said nothing.

I flipped open the wallet and pulled out his driver's license. I read out his
name, "MICHAEL. DO YOU GO BY MICHAEL OR MIKE?"

He said nothing.

I sighed. It was time to show him who was in control. I was wearing army boots
that night - with steel toes. When I kicked him full force in the side of his
face, blood spurted out of his nose and mouth. He cried out in pain.

"IS IT MICHAEL? OR MIKE?" I asked in my most pleasant sounding tone. There were
a few seconds of silence. I raised my foot to kick him again. "Mike!" he said
quickly, sounding slightly panicked.

"VERY GOOD. MIKE IT IS, THEN. HI MIKE," I said cheerily. He remained silent.

"LET ME TELL YOU A BIT ABOUT MYSELF. I AM THE MOST FUCKED UP MOTHERFUCKER
YOU'RE LIKELY TO EVER MEET IN YOUR LIFETIME. I HATE TO TELL YOU, MIKE, THIS IS
NOT YOUR LUCKY DAY." I paused and smiled. Mike's lip was swelling from where
I'd kicked him. There was a trickle of blood on his chin.

"IT'S MY PLAN TO RAPE YOU, MIKE. I THINK YOU'RE KIND OF A COCKY SON OF A BITCH,
AND I FEEL OBLIGATED TO KNOCK YOU OFF OF THE PEDESTAL YOU THINK YOU'RE ON."

Mike looked at me with disdain on his face. "Fuck You," he said, and spit at
me.

Without warning, I kicked him again in the face, the toe of my boot landing
firmly in his left eye. He screamed out in pain. I had no idea if there were
people sleeping in the upstairs suite of the house, so I couldn't have Mike
yelling like that. I grabbed his hair and tilted his head back, shoving my gun
through his lips and forcing it back into his throat. For the first time since
I'd met him, I saw the look of fear on his face.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU - I SWEAR TO GOD. I'LL SHOOT A HOLE THROUGH YOUR HEAD
AND I'LL DANCE AROUND IN YOUR BLOOD IF YOU DON'T KEEP QUIET AND DO AS I SAY. IS
THAT CLEAR?"

Mike shook his head - it was clear.

I reached into the gym bag and pulled out my hunting knife. I used it to cut
Mike's shirt off his back - tossing the material aside. Then I used the sharp
blade to slice off his jeans - grabbing at his ass as I did so. He squirmed.

In a matter of minutes, he was naked except for his socks and sneakers - I
decided to leave those on.

"Why are You doing this?" he asked in a pathetic voice.

I smiled. "BECAUSE I CAN."

He looked down.

"I WAS WATCHING YOU WHEN YOU WERE AT THE BAR TONIGHT," I informed him.

Mike looked at me again. He seemed confused.

"THAT'S RIGHT, MIKE. I FOLLOWED YOU HOME FROM THE BAR. I SAW YOU ACTING SO
COCKY AND ARROGANT THERE - PULLING YOUR DICK OUT TO TAKE A PISS, TRYING TO
IMPRESS EVERYONE. YOU LIKE BEING WATCHED WHILE YOU PISS?"

Mike remained silent.

"WELL, I DO. WANT TO WATCH ME PISS, MIKE?"

A rather horrified look came over Mike's battered face as I positioned myself
over the toilet facing him.

"You wouldn't," he said, in a voice that didn't sound convinced.

I laughed, undoing the fly of my jeans. I let my cock flop out inches from
Mike's nose.

"OPEN YOUR MOUTH," I said in a friendly voice.

"No fucking way!" he said, squirming.

Raising my arm in a swift motion, I backhanded Mike across the mouth with my
gun. His blood spurted onto my cock. I laughed.

"OPEN YOUR MOUTH," I said again, more firmly this time.

He hesitated. Once again, I pistol whipped him across the face. He screamed out
in agony.

"OPEN YOUR MOUTH!" By now I was shouting.

He looked into my eyes - he was a mess. His lips were bloody and swollen, and
his left eye was beginning to swell shut. There was a look of hatred mixed with
fear on his face. Very slowly, he opened his mouth.

"I CLAIM YOU AS MY PROPERTY," I said smiling, as I began to piss in his face.
He pulled back, sputtering.

"OPEN YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"

Once again, his lips parted, and I aimed my piss into his mouth. He sputtered
again but this time, tried to choke it down. I had a lot of piss in me, and
smiled as I watched it splatter on his teeth. I farted loudly as I sprayed the
last spurts into his eyes.

"KIND OF STINKS, DOESN'T IT?"

He was silent.

I began to jerk my cock in his face. He looked disgusted and turned his face
away. I grabbed his hair and forced it back.

"LICK MY COCK LIKE A DOG," I commanded.

He winced, looking ill.

"DO IT!" I said, shouting.

He stuck out his tongue hesitantly, touching my cock with the tip.

"LIKE A DOG, MIKE! LAP IT LIKE A FUCKING DOG!"

He closed his eyes and began to lap like a dog. I jerked while he was licking
me. My cock grew hard.

"IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD. THAT'S A GOOD DOGGIE," I said patronizingly. The
look on his face was one of complete disgust.

"I KNOW THIS IS HARD FOR YOU, BUT IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER, YOU'RE DOING
A REALLY GOOD JOB," I laughed.

I jerked a while longer until my cock was throbbing. Then I moved around behind
Mike, and poked at his asshole with my fingers.

"TIME TO FUCK YOU," I announced.

"Please don't," he said, his voice pleading.

"WHY NOT?" I asked, trying my best to sound sincerely confused. I laughed.

"Please. This is killing me."

"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO CRY, ARE YOU MIKE?" I taunted him.

Mike swallowed hard several times. I could tell he was fighting not to cry, and
I wondered if he'd ever cried in his life.

I took my gun and shoved it up Mike's hole. He cried out.

"IF YOU DON'T KEEP QUIET YOU'RE A DEAD MAN," I warned him.

I pulled out the gun and poked my dick at Mike's hairy crack. I shoved it in
slowly at first, but once I was fully in him, I thrust forward forcefully. I
could tell he was trying desperately not to cry out loudly, but a painful
whimper still managed to escape.

"RELAX. THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUN, MIKE," I said cheerfully.

I fucked back and forth without mercy. Mike's hole was tight and felt great on
my cock.

"YOU'RE A GREAT FUCK, MIKE."

In and out, over and over - my cock rammed Mike's hole. He was so tense that I
knew each thrust hurt at least as much as the one before. I could feel myself
climaxing. It was so fucking good. I panted wildly.

"I'M CUMMING!"

I could feel my cock spurting over and over again into Mike's tight hole.

"IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD!"

Finally, I collapsed on his back and tried to catch my breath.

"THANKS, MIKE. WAS IT AS GOOD FOR YOU AS IT WAS FOR ME?" I laughed, pulling my
cock from his hole. It was surprisingly clean. I wiped it off in his hair.

"WELL, MIKE, IT'S BEEN A SLICE, BUT I SHOULD BE GOING," I told him. I was sure
he felt a wave of relief flood his soul as he heard these words, prematurely,
unfortunately for him.

I reached into my gym bag and pulled out the thick black marker. I wrote in
bold letters on Mike's back: CUM PIG. Then I reached around to his face and
wrote on his forehead: VICTIM #2.

Mike was sobbing although I saw no tears - likely the closest he could come to
crying.

I flipped out the light in the bathroom as if I was about to leave, but then I
stopped, flipping it back on. I could see Mike's body tense up, wondering what
I was up to.

"YOU KNOW, MIKE. I HATE TO DO THIS - BUT I REALLY HAVE TO TAKE A SHIT," I
informed him.

Horror registered on his face. "Please. Please, no," he begged.

I laughed. I could see in his eyes that he realized begging would do him no
good.

I straddled the toilet and pulled down my jeans, sitting down as he knelt
before me.

"THIS WON'T TAKE A SECOND," I assured him, grunting. Exaggerating the effort, I
pushed out several loud farts.

"GOD, THOSE REALLY STINK, DON'T THEY?"

I grunted more, pleased at the sound of my turds splashing into the water. Mike
gagged. I smiled down at him.

More grunting, more splashing, and the smell in the bathroom was becoming quite
overwhelming.

"IT'S GOT TO BE REALLY HARD FOR YOU TO BE KNEELING THERE WHILE I SHIT. I'M
SORRY THIS HAS BEEN SUCH A BAD EVENING FOR YOU," I said mockingly.

Mike gagged again.

I pushed the last of my shit out, and raised myself from the seat.

"ALL DONE," I announced, as if I'd accomplished something quite amazing.

I turned my body, grabbing Mike by the hair. "I JUST HAVE TO WIPE NOW."

I began wiping my crack with Mike's face. "No! No! No!" he screamed, pleading
in a desperate voice. He was struggling, but there wasn't much point. I was the
one in control. He had no power.

He gagged several times as I finished wiping myself on his nose and lips.

"IS IT CLEAN YET?" I asked him, laughing. I pulled up my jeans and stepped to
the side of the toilet. His face was full of brown smears.

I noticed my hunting knife in the corner.

"I ALMOST FORGOT THIS."

I picked it up.

Mike was bent over the toilet, gagging periodically and looking completely
distraught but I pretended not to notice.

"MIKE, I HAVE A FUN IDEA. BEFORE I GO, HOW ABOUT IF YOU PUSH YOUR FACE DOWN
INTO THE TOILET WATER AND BLOW SOME BUBBLES FOR ME."

"No!" He screamed out, as if he'd finally reached his breaking point and no
longer cared what I might do to him.

I reached behind him, taking his balls in my hand, and placed the cold steel of
my hunting knife at the base of his scrotum. He began to sob.

"COME ON, MIKE. LET'S BE REASONABLE. I'M SURE YOU'D RATHER BLOW BUBBLES IN THE
TOILET THAN BE CASTRATED, WOULDN'T YOU?"

He sobbed more as I put pressure on the knife. "Please, no!" he screamed again.

I took the blade and began to move it across the base of his scrotum. I was
hardly pushing at all, but the knife was sharp and I drew blood. "BLOW BUBBLES,
MIKE."

Mike's chest was heaving with his sobs, but I could see him slowly lowering his
face down into the toilet bowl. He gagged and the sound echoed in the bowl.

"COME ON, MIKE. YOU CAN DO IT," I said, encouraging him.

I heard him blow bubbles in the toilet water and I laughed. He tried to raise
his head, but I pushed it down forcefully from behind. "BLOW MORE BUBBLES!"

He was thrashing around, trying to push his head up against the force of my
hand pushing him down. He sputtered and coughed, and his entire body was
flopping around as he struggled to get air. I reached over and flushed the
toilet. I heard the echo of his gasping and sputtering in the bowl as the water
level went down. I imagined my shit swirling around his face. I laughed at the
mental image.

I released Mike's head and he quickly pulled his face from the toilet, panting
and coughing, trying to catch his breath.

"THIS HAS BEEN A LOT OF FUN, MIKE. I'LL LOOK YOU UP AGAIN THE NEXT TIME I'M
FEELING BORED," I told him, as if we'd just played a pleasant game of cards.

I laughed as I exited the bathroom. I noticed Mike's phone on the coffee table,
and I picked it up, dialing 911. I heard a voice on the other end, "911
operator." Leaving it off the hook, I set the phone down on the coffee table
and walked out the door. I knew the police would go by eventually and that Mike
would soon be rescued. I wondered which page of the newspaper the story might
appear on.

----------------------------------------------

There is so much happening in a big city that is seen as more important than
the rape of a couple of agonizing men at the hands of another. But I found the
tiny article on page A13, and cut it out for the scrap book I was making. There
were a lot of details missing - the fact that I wrote VICTIM #1 on Matthew's
forehead, and VICTIM #2 on Mike, and the part about the piss and shit, for
example. I figured the police didn't want to release that bit of information -
why start panic needlessly? Perhaps greater detail would be released to the
media after several more victims were found. I was pleased, though, that the
article mentioned that the rapes appeared related, random, and that men in the
city were warned to be careful when alone at night. I hoped it was the
beginning of a feeling of panic that I wanted to see spread and grow. With
great pride, I clipped the article, and pasted it into my scrap book next to
the two driver's licenses I'd collected from my victims.

---------------------------------------------------

VICTIM #3

If I make playing the game sound easy, it really isn't. I actually found it
quite hard to psych myself up to hunt for my next victim. I was painfully aware
that if my name was to go down in history as a notorious rapist, that I
couldn't screw up at any time soon. I figured I'd need a minimum of four or
five victims before getting caught if I was ever to read about my exploits in
an unauthorized biography of my life and crimes. Realizing this, I felt excited
about my goal, but still too far from it to be able to feel confident that I
would actually reach it as planned.

But I also felt a certain pressure to strike again in a timely manner. The
little newspaper article was hardly enough to send fear into the heart of every
man out by himself at night, and if I didn't continue to conquer men at regular
intervals, I would never achieve the ultimate feeling of power that would come
from holding the entire population of men in my city hostage. The police,
having much more information than had been released to the public, were surely
actively searching for me, so I knew that I would have to grow more and more
cautious as I progressed with the game.

About ten days after raping Mike, I finally got up the nerve to do some serious
hunting. I went out about midnight and drove around the down town area for
several hours. I wasn't having any luck finding the kind of man I was looking
for alone and vulnerable, and I cursed my lack of luck as I grew more and more
tired. The digital clock in my car was showing 4 a.m. The chances of finding
the right man out alone at that hour were becoming slim, but it had taken me so
many days to get psyched up to strike again, that I didn't want to give up. The
more tired I grew, the more agitated I became, until finally, at 5 a.m., I
decided to head home, frustrated and angry.

I completely lost focus on the idea of finding a man to be at my mercy, and
during the drive towards home, all I could think of was going to bed and trying
to get a decent sleep. I live a fair ways away from the center of town, so the
drive home takes some time. At one traffic light, as I waited for the signal to
turn green, I caught myself almost falling asleep. I realized then that the
anxiety I'd felt over the past several days about playing the game had caused
me to not sleep as well as I was used to.

I got closer to my neighbourhood, and as I rounded a corner, a jogger ran out
in front of me without any warning. My reaction time was slow due to my extreme
fatigue, and although I tried to react quickly by slamming on my brakes, I
ended up hitting the man. He flew up onto the hood of my car, and then slipped
back off onto the road. I threw my car into park, and raced out to see how
badly he was hurt. There was blood on his forehead, and he was unconscious. My
first instinct was to feel incredibly concerned, and I glanced around to see if
there was anyone else around who might help by calling an ambulance - but there
was no one in sight.

Feeling slightly panicked, I looked back down at the man, and noticed the blood
dripping into his wavy blond hair. Then I noticed his face - and how attractive
he was. He was about 21 or 22 years old, clearly in good shape, wearing an
expensive new jogging suit, and at the moment, was completely oblivious to what
was going on around him.

I glanced around again - the street was dark and there wasn't a soul in sight.
I smiled.

Grabbing the man's arms, I dragged him to the door of my car. It was no easy
task shoving him into my back seat. He had no wallet and no identification on
him, which annoyed me somewhat since I realized immediately that I wouldn't
have his driver's license for my scrap book, but I consoled myself with the
fact that he had made the kidnapping part of the rape so much easier for me by
running in front of my car.

He started to groan and I realized that I'd have to move fast to ensure that he
was firmly bound before fully gaining consciousness. I grabbed my gym bag and
rustled in it for my ropes and handcuffs. I fastened his hands and his feet,
being sure to hog tie him in a way that wouldn't permit him to kick out my car
windows once he woke up. His lycra jogging pants pulled tightly at his crotch -
I pinched his dick and decided that he was pretty well hung. I then began tying
a gag around his mouth just as he became more alert. He eyes opened as I was
knotting the gag behind his head. He looked up at me first seeming confused,
and then clearly afraid as he began struggling and squirming in the backseat of
my car. I'd tied him very securely, and feeling that fate and fortune were
truly on my side, I smiled at him, closed the back door of my car, and then
crawled in front behind the wheel.

The problem now, I realized, was where to take the man to finish what the two
of us had begun. It was early on a Wednesday morning, so I knew it wouldn't be
long before the traffic would begin as people headed off to work. That meant I
couldn't go visiting an underground parking lot like I'd done with my first
victim. I thought of taking him home to my place, but that appeared to present
more problems than it solved. I was extremely tired and not able to think
entirely clearly, so the only idea I could come up was to drive out of town and
find some secluded area where I could rape my third victim outdoors. Since I
live close to the edge of the city, I figured it made sense.

"DO YOU FEEL LIKE A DRIVE IN THE COUNTRY TODAY?" I asked my new victim in my
friendliest voice.

"What are You doing with me?" he managed to ask through the gag. I laughed and
left his question unanswered as I turned onto the highway out of town.

The man behind me continued to struggle against his restraints as we drove. But
after about an hour, he had settled down considerably. The sun was rising as I
turned onto a secondary highway. I knew we'd be able to find some old dirt
roads leading into a wooded area near by. As I made another turn and it became
clear to my victim that we were driving on gravel, he began to struggle again.
I smiled, knowing that he probably was imagining that I would kill him and toss
his body into some ditch. My cock stiffened in my jeans at the thought of his
fear.

When I felt confident that we'd come upon an area that offered complete
privacy, I pulled off the road along side of some bushes. My victim began
trying to scream through his gag - clearly petrified at what was about to
occur. Smiling broadly, I jumped from the car and opened up the back door. The
pleading in his eyes was incredible. Since his arms and legs were tied together
behind him, I grabbed onto his head and pulled his body from my car - it landed
with a thud. I noted that his head had stopped bleeding, but there was dried
blood caked into his hair. I grabbed onto his knees and began to drag him
through the bushes, the back of his head scraping along on the ground as we
went. He was struggling, but it was clearly no use - he was completely at my
mercy and we both knew it.

We came to a little clearing in the bush next to a large tree, and I left him
there as I returned to my car for my gym bag. I was very tired and my movements
were slow, but I felt that at our current location, I would have more than
enough time to safely play the game, and there was no reason to rush things.

Returning with the bag, I looked down at my captive, grinning at him
mischievously. I pulled out my gun and raised it, pointing it directly at his
face. He squirmed and tried shrieking through his gag, causing me to laugh out
loud at the scene. He seemed especially startled by my laughter, and the look
in his eyes made it clear that he believed himself to be at the mercy of a
lunatic. Rightfully so, I suppose.

I placed my foot on his throat with just a bit of pressure. "SHHHHH," I said,
as if to a little child. I was pleasantly surprised that he quieted down
immediately. "I'M GOING TO TAKE OFF YOUR GAG," I explained to him, "BUT YOU
NEED TO KNOW THAT IF YOU CRY OUT, I WILL KILL YOU." He whimpered a bit, making
me smile. "YOU ALSO NEED TO KNOW THAT IF YOU COOPERATE, I'LL LET YOU LIVE. IT'S
REALLY THAT SIMPLE."

I gave him a few seconds to digest that information.

"MY PLAN IS NOT TO KILL YOU. AND YOUR COMPLETE COOPERATION WILL ENSURE THAT YOU
REMAIN ALIVE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Although there was no evidence on his face that my words were alleviating his
fear, the man nodded in agreement. I untied the knot behind the man's head, and
pulled the gag from his mouth. He remained quiet, breathing heavily.

"NOW, FIRST THINGS FIRST," I said, as if I was a teacher and he was my new
student. "WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

I could see the wheels turning in his head, and knew immediately that he was
trying to think of a fake name to give me. This annoyed me, and so I kicked him
full force in his side, knocking the wind from him. "DON'T FUCK WITH ME," I
warned him. "TELL ME YOUR FUCKING NAME!"

"It's Roger," he said, coughing.

I had no idea if he was lying to me or not, but in my most pleasant sounding
voice, I said to him, "NICE TO MEET YOU ROGER." Again, he looked at me like he
was dealing with a crazy man. It made me smile.

I reached into my gym bag and pulled out my hunting knife. As I moved towards
him, the look of fear on his face intensified, and he began to whimper and
squirm. "No," he begged, "please, please, no."

"STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING BABY," I said to him with a disgusted look on my
face. I grabbed at his jogging suit and began to cut it from his body. I gave
his cock a squeeze through the tight material before cutting off the lycra
pants. He gasped in a manner that I interpreted to mean that he finally
realized why I'd brought him here. He seemed about to say something, but then
apparently changed his mind. I imagined the struggle going on in his head and
smiled as I finished cutting the clothing from his body.

I stepped back to look at him - he had an incredible body. "Why are You doing
this?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"BECAUSE I CAN," I smiled.

"You're the guy, aren't You. From the newspaper."

A jolt of pleasure rushed through my cock as I heard him say this. He had no
way of knowing that, in terms of my pleasure, he couldn't have made a better
comment. A broad smile spread over my face in response to his question. "I AM,"
I said simply, grabbing my cock through my jeans and giving it a squeeze.
Roger's head rolled back into the grass as his fears were confirmed.

"IT'S MUCH WORSE THAN YOU THINK, ACTUALLY," I explained. "THERE IS A WHOLE
BUNCH OF INFORMATION ABOUT THESE RAPES I'VE BEEN COMMITTING THAT DIDN'T GET
REPORTED IN THE PAPER. HEINOUS ACTS, REALLY. BUT NO NEED TO TROUBLE YOUR MIND
ABOUT THOSE NOW. YOU'LL FIND OUT WHAT I MEAN SOON ENOUGH."

Roger's breathing was heavy with fear as I began unbuttoning my jeans. I pulled
them off and tossed them aside - I was wearing no underwear. I stepped over
Roger and sat down on his chest, my stiff cock poking at his face.

"TIME TO HAVE SOME FUN," I announced.

Roger looked at me. The fear so evident on his face earlier had now
disappeared, replaced by anger and determination in his eyes. His look
surprised me, since he had been so compliant up to now. "If You try putting
Your cock in my mouth, i swear to God i'll bite it off," he said through
gritted teeth.

His threat annoyed me because it demonstrated that he had failed thus far to
recognize the extent of my power in the situation. "YOU'RE NOT IN A VERY GOOD
POSITION TO BE THREATENING ME," I said in a tone that surely gave away my
intense effort not to lose my temper. I reached over and grabbed my gun from
the grass where I had tossed it, and pointed it at the side of Roger's face.
Then I sat forward, once again poking my now dripping cock towards Roger's
mouth.

"i swear to God, i'll bite it right off," he said, his courage both impressing
me and fuelling my anger. I raised the gun and brought it crashing down into
his face, splitting open the skin on his cheek and spraying my hand with his
blood.

There were a few seconds of silence before he said again, "i'll bite it off,"
his voice now hoarse.

I completely lost all sense of control, and tossing my gun aside, I screamed at
him, "HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME, YOU FUCKING BITCH!" I grabbed his throat with both
hands and began choking him violently, totally overtaken by my intense
frustration. I shook his body up and down and I continued to choke him, only
partially aware of his coughing and gagging. Finally, his body went limp under
me - he'd fainted due to the lack of air.

Checking his pulse to ensure he wasn't dead, I pushed myself up from his body
and stood. I was terribly over tired and my patience for this type of setback
was nil. I kicked Roger's side several times, releasing my pent up anger. His
body rolled back and forth like a sack of potatoes, but he didn't wake up.

I glanced around at our surroundings, trying to decide what to do. I could rape
him while he was under, but what fun would that be? He wouldn't remember, and
it was important to me that he remember every detail of our time together - for
the rest of his life.

I walked over to the nearby tree and sat down, leaning my back against it. I
wondered if I should have a sleep in the grass and wait for him to wake up.
Glancing up, I noticed a strong, thick branch about six feet over my head. It
gave me an idea.

Getting up, I walked back over to Roger's limp body. I picked up some extra
rope, and then grabbed Roger by the knees, dragging him over to the tree.
Looping the rope around his body and under his arms, I tossed the ends of it
over the strong branch above. Then, grabbing the rope, I began to pull, trying
to raise Roger so he was hanging in the air. This was no easy task, and I
struggled and pulled for some time, feeling completely exhausted, but too
pleased with my new idea to give up. Finally, when I had him hanging above the
ground, I secured the rope. My energy was totally spent, and I collapsed into
the grass, allowing myself to fall asleep.

I don't know how long I lay there, but I woke up to Roger's cries for help. I
doubted anyone was around to hear him, but I was still angered at his efforts
to foil my plans. Jumping up, I grabbed my gun and pointed it at him. "SHUT THE
FUCK UP!" I ordered him.

"Fuck You," he said defiantly. What was with this guy? Was he hoping I'd kill
him?

Since Roger's arms and legs were still tied behind his back, he was hanging
with his bent knees about a foot off the ground. As a result, his face was
about level with mine, and as I stood in front of him, he spit in my face.

This man clearly had more courage than I was willing to put up with, and as I
wiped the spittle from my face with a sigh, I realized that I needed to take
action to clearly get the upper hand. Rape, being an act of power, has a way of
demeaning a man. I decided it was time to fuck Roger's ass.

Saying nothing, I walked behind him and placed my hands on his hips. "No
fucking way!" he cried out, trying to struggle against his restraints.

"HAD YOU BEEN MORE COOPERATIVE, I MIGHT NOT HAVE FUCKED YOUR ASS," I lied,
poking my now stiff cock into his ass crack. "BUT NOW, UNFORTUNATELY, YOU'VE
LEFT ME LITTLE CHOICE." And with that, I grabbed him firmly, and with no
lubrication at all, I forced my hard cock into his hole.

He cried out in agony as I continued to shove my cock in deeper. "No, no, no,"
he yelled. "Somebody help me!"

I began to laugh hysterically, recognizing that his attempts at seeming like he
had power in the situation had now subsided. My dominance was established.

I fucked him wildly and violently. Feeling warmth around my cock, I glanced
down and noticed it was covered with Roger's blood. "IS IT YOUR TIME OF THE
MONTH, FAGGOT?" I asked, taunting him.

He continued to cry out in pain, making each thrust of my dick more pleasurable
for me than the last. Finally, after what surely seemed like hours to Roger, I
felt myself climaxing, and my cries of pleasure joined his cries of pain as I
spurted my cum into his hole. "OH, OH, YOU ARE SUCH A GREAT FUCK!" I yelled as
I felt myself shoot over and over again. I pulled out and walked in front of
him, noticing him glance down at my cock - full of cum and blood. "WANT TO LICK
IT CLEAN?" I asked him, smiling. He said nothing. I decided not to push the
issue, concerned that he might still follow through on his threat to bite me.
Instead, I rubbed by cock against his, cleaning myself on his pubic hair.

Looking at him directly in the eye, I told him, "YOU HAVE BEEN MUCH LESS
COOPERATIVE THAN I WOULD HAVE HOPED TODAY. AS A RESULT, I HAVE ALL THIS PENT UP
FRUSTRATION THAT I REALLY NEED TO DEAL WITH. LUCKY FOR ME, I HAVE A PUNCHING
BAG HANGING HERE TO HELP ME UNWIND." And with that, I began to punch Roger's
body, wildly hitting him in the face, neck and chest. He would swing back and
forth and twist around as my blows landed with force. He screamed out like he
was being murdered, but still I kept on my assault. His lips were both split
open and his face was covered in blood. I smiled, knowing that the bruises
would form in several hours and would virtually cover his body. Finally, once I
felt completely exhausted, I finished off by kicking him in the balls - once,
twice, and then I final time. His cries were like those of a dying animal. "I'M
AFRAID YOU MIGHT BE STERILE NOW," I informed him, laughing.

I walked to the gym bag and picked up my hunting knife. Walking back to Roger,
I began to cut at the ropes that held him to the tree. He fell at my feet with
a thud. I stepped on his face as if it was part of the ground beneath me.

Tossing the knife aside, I squatted over Roger's face. "THIS IS ONE OF THE
THINGS THEY DIDN'T REPORT IN THE NEWSPAPER," I said, grunting out a fart. I
glanced between my legs and down at Roger's face, enjoying the look of complete
horror in his eyes. I aimed my cock at his mouth, relaxing my bladder. I sighed
with pleasure as a stream of piss began spraying from my cock. "I CLAIM YOU AS
MY PROPERTY," I said, farting again. As my piss continued to cover Roger's
face, and as he squirmed and struggled beneath me, I began to squeeze out a
turd. He tried to cry out in objection, but my piss filled his mouth and I
heard it gurgling in his throat. He began to cough and choke as I felt the turd
break off and fall from my ass. I looked down between my legs and smiled - it
had landed directly over his lips. Through his coughing and sputtering, he
managed to shake his head back and forth, causing the turd to fall from his
face. But it was soon followed by a second and then a third. He continued to
squirm, and I laughed out loud as I blew farts at him. Finally, when the last
turd was dangling from my hole, I sat down on his face, crushing the mushy
brown into his skin. He gagged and tried to scream through his tightly clenched
lips as I smeared my ass all over his face, grinding the shit into his nose. I
could hear him struggling to keep from breathing in the stench, but finally,
due to the shit blocking his nostrils, he had to part his lips to gasp for air,
at which time I slid my crack back and forth in several quick motions, ensuring
that my shit was wiped over his teeth and tongue. His gagging and retching
caused my cock to begin to harden again.

I raised myself off Roger's face to look down at my creation. There was brown
shit smeared over his entire face, with patches of deep red blood poking
through. There was swelling around both of his eyes, and I knew it would take
little time before they were black and blue. Where he had once been defiant and
angry, he was now completely defeated - and I was satisfied. I saw him looking
up at my beaming face, and he began to cry. It was the crowning finish to my
achievement.

I walked back over to where Roger's cut up clothing lay in the grass. I used it
to clean the shit from my ass. Then, taking a big felt marker from my gym back,
I walked back over to Roger. On his chest, in bold letters, I wrote: PUNCHING
BAG. Then, on his forehead, I wrote: VICTIM #3.

Walking back to the gym bag, I packed up my things. "HAVE A NICE LIFE, ROGER,"
I yelled back at him, "AND THANKS FOR THE GREAT FUCK."

I walked to my car and began driving back towards town. I smiled the whole way
home, playing and re-playing the entire scene over and over again in my mind.
As I entered town, I stopped at a phone booth. I dialed 911, and before giving
the operator the chance to speak, I announced, "Victim #3 can be located
at...," and then I gave some quick directions, hanging up before the operator
had the chance to respond.

----------------------------------------------------

The next morning, I walked down the street to buy the newspaper from the corner
store. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at the front of the paper. There, in
bold letters, on the very front page, screamed the headline: 'VICTIM #3'.
"YES!" I shouted out, causing the clerk behind the counter to stare at me.
Smiling, I walked up to her to pay for the newspaper. I felt like I was the
king of the world.

----------------------------------------------------

It's amazing, really, that I still haven't been caught. I've added three more
victims to my list - Andy, Rudy, and John - and still, the police haven't found
me. It's much harder to find victims now than it was before. The streets are
much more deserted at night, or men tend to walk in groups of three or four. At
times, I'm tempted to get frustrated when I have difficulty hunting new
victims, but then I remind myself how effective I've been at bringing this city
under my control. It's the most incredible feeling.

My scrap book is growing - with clippings from newspapers and the drivers
licenses of my victims. I also video tape the news on a regular basis,
completely pleased to hear the commentators speaking about my exploits. The
other day, I made the national news! For the moment, I have as much star power
as any famous celebrity.

I don't know when I'll be caught. Now that I've accomplished so much, it
doesn't really matter. I have six victims under my belt - how many more will I
conquer? I have dreams of playing the game with 20 or 30 men - but even if I
was caught today, I know that I'd go down in history, and that's been my dream
all along. I try not to think about prison - I have no idea how I'll ever
survive there. But if I'm going to impress everyone, I'll eventually need to be
caught. Some day.

written by loopy
email encouraged: loop_fruit@hotmail.com