Finder her was less of a challenge than I thought. She certainly inserted plenty of clues in her stories. I have half a brain and used only twenty-five percent of it to track her down, what car she drove, where she lived, her daily patterns. One thing I'll say, she has a very pretty face. At least by my standards, she's a real looker. This realization more or less cinched the dark task for me.

I identified a weekend, flew to neighboring state, took a train and a bus to one more neighboring state, where I rented a car dressed like a legit businessman, and drove straight to her town. I rented a room under an assumed name using a Visa gift card with no identity attached to it, and used the same card at the local grocery store to buy supplies. I purchased a small container of bloody chicken livers. From the industrial electric supplier, I picked up a hand-crank megger, a device electricians use to test high voltage circuits and breaks in wire insulation. A few cranks, and the DC voltage output is substantial, many hundreds of volts. Also, an electric soldering gun with a brand new shiny copper tip.

From the office supply store, a few office binder spring clips, a razor-sharp box cutter. From the pharmacy some isopropyl, gauze, cotton balls, and a jar of Icy Hot. The only prop that I actually brought with me was a personal privacy curtain used by OBGYN staff during childbirth to shield the non-pregnant partner’s view of the gore below the neck. It is blue cloth supported by a wire frame, and fit into my luggage without notice as it seemed like part of the luggage itself when folded down.

Now all I needed was this sadistic little female.

You could set your watch by her routine. It was easy to find a spot for my car in a nearby deserted lot and I walked over to the bar she always goes on Saturday nights. I used all my “cool” that night, striking up a conversation with her, accepting another girl’s offer to dance, but afterwards returned to her, as though I was really interested. I plied her with Patrone Silver tequila, leaned down, pressed my lips to her neck behind her ear, and whispered, “Come on. Let me tuck you in.”

She eyed me for a few seconds, no smile, but said, “Sure. Just don’t try anything funny.”

I smiled and lead her to her car. I said, “Let me drive you home.” Fumbling a little, she fished out her keys, poured herself into the passenger seat, and I drove her straight to my hotel. She was pretty lit, so when I asked her to come inside and take a soak in my hotel Jacuzzi filled with rose petals, and that I’d take her home after the bath if she wanted, initially she said no. I said, “OK,” restarted the car, looked over, smiled, and said, “I’ll be a gentleman all the way. Please. Trust your gut.”

Shortly thereafter we were in my room and making out on the bed with our clothes on. As promised I drew a bath filled with rose petals, undressed her, placed her inside, and climbed in with her. We kissed and slowly learned each other’s bodies with our hands. She suggested we hop out to “cool off,” and after pulling down the bedcover, I placed her on the sheets, stretched her arms high over her head – and that’s when I very gently slipped her wrists into the two slip knotted ropes I have previously placed there. By the time she tried to lower her hands and discovered she could not, I had both ankles spread wide and knotted apart. Before she could make noise, I put a few loops of gauze over her mouth so that her complaints came out dully muffled.

I stood back to admire the view. She’s actually quite attractive. Petite, perky boobs, flat stomach, nice shoulders arms and legs. Even without a brain-full of torture stirring my blood, I would’ve gotten hard for this woman. And hard I was: throbbing. I opened my case and arranged the knife, alcohol, gauze, cotton swabs, and clamps onto a towel beside her knee. I raised the nasty looking soldering gun and plugged it in, squeezing the trigger until the tip smoked a little, and set it on the towel. When she inspected all these items, taking it in, her reality dawning on her all at once - that expression of pure fear was positively the most delicious sight of my life!

I opened the box cutter and felt the sharp edge with my thumb, smiling approvingly. “You’re quite the little story-teller. Cutting off the most important body parts that define your male victims. Well, it’s time to pay up,” I said with conviction. “Have you ever heard of infibulations? Of course you have. You’re a smart lady. In just a few minutes, your clitoris, clitoral hood, and labia are about to end up floating in that container of alcohol, to be added later to my collection,” I said, pausing to enjoy the squirming, moaning, and pleading eyes. “Enough talk. Time to cut away those body parts that define you as a woman.” Her muffled screams were like the music of the Sirens, pulsing straight to my balls and cock.

I placed the blue OBGYN screen down around her neck so that her view was completely obscured. Then I snapped several of the black office binder clips onto her outer labia and used the gauze tape to separate her pussy lips as far apart as possible. Her moist pink folds were stretched open to the max. I thought my cock could not possibly get any harder as she cried and thrashed. Stashed under the foot of the bed were the chicken livers, the hotel room’s ice container filled, the megger, and the Icy Hot. I held the box cutter high so that she could see it over the blue screen. She started screaming like an angry cat. “OK, let me just warn you, this is REALLY going to hurt a lot. Like nothing you’ve ever felt before. May I suggest you try to breathe in and out, short rapid breaths,” I said. At this, I touched both an ice cube and a finger-full of Icy Hot to the area around her clitoris. Her hips bucked and she screamed piteously. At that point I clamped two of the megger clips directly onto her clit hood which by itself must have hurt like hell, and slowly turned the crank. Between the ice, the chemical, and the odd shocking intense but harmless electricity, I’m absolutely certain she believed it was real. The longer Icy Hot remains on the skin, the more it burns, especially that sensitive mucosal skin. The ice cube melted and the liquid ran down her stretched sex, like blood. I stopped cranking, reached under the bed, and removed a bloody chunk of chicken liver. This I held up high enough for her to see, blood dripping down my fingers. “Look! You’re no longer a woman! Just wait till I finish chopping you up down here. You’ll be completely nullified. But first I need to stop the bleeding with the soldering gun.” She screamed until she was out of breath. I held the hot tip of the gun to a piece of liver long enough for it to smoke and release a stench, and cranked the megger a few rapid turns, which must have really felt like red-hot metal against her most sensitive bits. I then yanked at those clips on her clit hood, applied more ice, and held up a different shaped piece of bloody chicken liver. Her hips rose and fell wildly, her whole body contorted in an unnatural “S” shape. Then, silence. She had passed out cold.

I undid the clips, packed everything back into the case, and surveyed her sweet little unconscious form, her pussy lips swollen and clit area inflamed and protruding. I completely wiped off the Icy Hot, and, this was probably the worst side of me boiling to the surface – I slipped on a Kimono condom and fucked her hard and fast till I came very hard. I wiped her down thoroughly, making sure none of my hair or skin or saliva – any DNA evidence from me – remained on her body. Slinging her over my shoulder, I took her out a ground floor back door, put her into her car, and drove her back to the bar. I then walked to the abandoned lot, returned to the hotel, cleaned up, changed hotels, slept a few hours, and reversed my entire course. By the time my flight home landed, the whole thing seemed like a dream, not a real event.

Maybe she’ll think twice about cutting away the flesh of a man who has not asked her to. I’ll look for more of her stories on here and see if her arrogant and haughty demeanor and tone have softened. If not, I may have to stage another, more savage event.