Interview with a Successful Psycopath

Self-acceptance is the key. Once we accept our imperfections, they lose their power and others cannot use them to manipulate us. Being without conscience helps. Being evil automatically means having a great deal of self acceptance. The bits about yourself you can’t accept are the human things which you therefore repress very deeply. The qualities you repress are what you hate in other people.

She radiates beauty and a very strong magnetic energy and , smiling at me, said, ‘I came back to spread the joy. ‘ She is smiling because we both know very well that joy is the last things she intends to spread. She is no longer blonde and is too slim but her plastic breasts, the present from her mafia boyfriend during her Italian period stand to attention, nipples visible through her thin dress. A dress that isn’t nearly as expensive as she would like because she only makes 150K. This hurts and humiliates her but she has settled for it. She intends to sleep with the big boss to raise it but she will never be rich unless she divorces her handsome house-husband whom she keeps in a low level of fears that she might leave him. She intends to but hasn't in ten years and time is going past but it suits her having a domestic slave. he thinks she is the best thing that happened to him but she has emasculated him.

She is relaxed, unstressed and I can tell she really is happy.

She has a well paid job near the top of a big tobacco company. She loves the idea of tobacco - for the suckers, not for herself for she is a health fanatic and hypochondriac. A story i told her about children in Malawi tobacco farms earning $1 a week gave her immense pleasure.

We are standing at a dull cocktail party.

‘I was interested in what you said when I said that the tobacco industry , from your Darwinian point of view, was making the world a better place, by killing off the weak. You said you were‘ laughing inside’. You were alone in the room and there was no reason why you shouldn’t have laughed aloud but that’s how you do laugh, isn’t it? You laugh aloud only to manipulate people. And I please you by telling you about bad things that have happened to people you know and you always say ‘that’s so sad’. When really...’

Her too-large mouth (the only defect on a wonderful face) opens to its widest extent and she whoops: 'I am really thinking YES!!'

She makes everything seem wonderful fun, like a sport. How, she seems to imply, can you not like a girl like me? She has a phony charm, laden with sex, and a genuine charm, because she is a child, though an evil child, and children are always charming, up to a certain point.

Cocktail party small talk with two rich men in the room.

‘In the States as soon as somebody hits on me on a plane and I tell them I am in the tobacco industry they immediately stop talking. Unless they are a hedge fund executive or something like that.’ She uses cynicism and racism as sexual turn-ons and she tells one man that there are far too many Mexicans in California, another that there are too many immigrants in New York, and she wrinkles her face is comic distaste when someone mentions a white woman who married a black man.

On her MySpace page she says she says under games ‘I am not much interested in games ‘. A good joke since games are all that she is interested in. When I mention this she bursts out , ‘Eric Berne’s Games People Play is one of my favourite books.’

Before I ask. I once thought of giving it to you.

Oh I read it twenty years ago. I’ve studied transactional analysis a lot –believe me I’m a huge fan of transactional analysis.

She works at the craft of psychopathy with the ardour and commitment of a scholar and she is a very good scholar.

She is the classic psychopath but that is a tautology because all psychopaths are classic psychopaths. They all resemble each other like happy families, just like a pickpocket resembles Adolf Hitler. But they do not have the same level of skill. ‘I’m the best’, she says. Perhaps she is.

Someone long ago wrote a novel about her in which she was aptly described as 'Mephistopheles in a bikini'. Even at forty she would still look very good in a bikini (her breasts are silicone)and she is no less Mephistophelean but she has honed her skills and is constantly learning new ones. ‘I’ve matured a lot. I’ve got much better. Or much worse.’ A girlish giggle.

Charles Baudelaire said "Genius is no more than childhood recaptured at will, childhood equipped now with man’s physical means to express itself’ and this applies as much to evil geniuses as to the other kind. She thinks she is a genius, of course, and, actually, she might even be right.

She knows how to exit a car while revealing the maximum (she wears pants because it is November) without seeming cheap. It seems like an invitation though it is really a veiled, or rather unveiled, threat.

We sit in the newest and most fashionable restaurant in the capital of a poor country, where tiny amounts of food are served at a great price but it is rather sparsely attended. The rich have left town for the weekend.

‘On your MySpace page I see you put as your motto ‘Everything happens to everyone if there is time enough’. I couldn’t get that for a long time and then I focused my brain and saw it was a threat. ‘You will do everything to everybody if there is time enough.'

Laughter.

‘Was I the first to work that out?’

‘I think so. And by the way it applies to you too.’

And she means it of course. She is dangerous like a tiger.

She likes to be admired for any reason and is insatiably greedy for attention. But being admired for her professional skills, which she knows, but would never admit, are slight, is not so interesting as being admired for the occult reality of what she does. Work in the normal sense holds no interest for her, she holds in deep contempt, but she works very hard indeed at games. But this she only discusses with the two young psychopaths she has been mentoring for years and the partner in a Wall St law firm who mentored her. And with me, it seems, for the time being. Though she can’t help dropping hints to others. Too many.

She has been punished before for taking off her mask too often. Someone once wrote that novel about her and soon after she left her job and the country and changed her name.

She is not really interested in the truth, in an abstract way, which is the purpose of conversation, but very interested in the truth for pragmatic purposes and, by observing in her very calm, very clear way ,she knows a very great deal more of the truth about many aspects of life than hommes moyens sensual. I wonder if she really likes intellectual stimulation from me rather than from books. She might see it as a threat.

'He is a psychopath, too.'

She had only used that word with me once before and I had never used it with her. I was interested that she admitted to being one.

'So all three of your sons are?'

'Yes.'

'Oh you are very lucky but let’s say manipulator, it sounds nicer.'

'Yes, manipulator.'

'Are manipulators born or made?'

'Oh definitely born.'

Her mother I know was a very cruel parent

'Are you a better mother than she was?'

'Oh much better but I was a girl and you know it is different with mothers and girls.'

And she tells me about her childhood which must have been very painful, though I feel no pity and pity is what she most hates in all the world. Fortunately she spent most of her time with her grandmother ‘who was soft and by the time I was twelve I was basically independent of my mother. But times were different then.

This sounds possibly true but she took her two young sons out of school in New York and deposited them with her mother in a provincial town in Eastern Europe, while she fucked the famous in the capital city and for a year held down a well-paid job . The boys attended the local school where lessons were given in a language they at first hardly spoke.

‘My mother was very tough and very aggressive. I have all of that but I also have the soft skills. So I am better.’

And her soft skills are indeed very good. Charm but not too too much. Flirting like a nuclear submarine honing in on a target. A sonar system in her head. An ability to read almost everyone. Not quite everyone she said. Not people who hate her. She is irritated yet gratified that there are a few of those.

'I made a mistake when I said that you lack empathy. You have empathy but cold empathy not warm empathy.'

'Yes I do. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to read people and get inside them.'

Why were we spending the evening together when she knew so many people and her time here was short?

'You are a means to an end.'

‘Several ends because you always work on several levels.’

Yes I do.

I don’t think I found out what end she intended to mention. I should listen better as she does.

I told her I knew why – that she liked power over people and when her power wore off she liked renewing it. I mentioned that one of her exes who had carried a flame for her for years. ‘Last time I spoke to him he said you were a bitch. you should see him and inject some more poison.'

‘Well I wasn’t going to see him but maybe I will.’

She knows how to damage people and this the thing that gives her most satisfaction. 'Perhaps it is the revenge of an injured child, for she is still a child which makes her fun.' But I think she is right and that psychopaths are born not made.

'You told me that though you could manipulate anyone you liked working on people who are positive because you were a positive person. And though I know what you mean and you do have a lot of a sort of energy and vitality but you are not a positive person at all. You are negative. You are pure negation.

‘I am only negative to others. I’m not negative to myself’ – a triumphant smile. This is not really true.

‘Why do you think Christianity says blessed are the poor?’

‘I’ve no idea. Because they’re easy to manipulate?’

‘No the reason why in Christianity the poor are blessed is that they have nothing and so they know they are dependent on God. And you in your way are very close to if not to God then to your subconscious mind. Which is your intuition and destiny – you are very good at reading signs that tell you what you should do next.

‘Hitler did not believe in God but thought that all through his life destiny intervened to help him and it certainly did. I do not read what I call Hitler porn but I know for example that had his grandfather not unexpectedly returned to admit his father’s paternity he would have been called Schickelgruber which would have made his career much more difficult. And there are a lot of other things like that.’

She is listening with real attention to this, I notice.

‘For example I know how you got into tobacco’ (she was sleeping with someone) ‘but I think it was your destiny to be in tobacco. Tobacco is perfect for you – think how much more pleasure you get every day from working in tobacco than you would in say paint.

‘Yes or in arms. But you need security clearance for that and I’m not an American.’

‘You are a Darwinian.’

‘Yes of course. Darwinianism is a religion.’

‘ You believe in God, don’t you?’

‘Well I do believe in some force because I have so much to be grateful for.’

‘Please please please please don’t tell me you are a Christian.’

‘No but I do admire the Christian church .’

‘The way it manipulates people.’

‘Yes of course. And that’s important.’

I wish I had asked her what she thought about Jesus but instead I said I saw a resemblance between Him and her. I meant his antithesis, of course.

‘Because you are pure. You know its not possible for any of us to be completely good. Or completely rich. Even if you were the richest person in the world which you would like to be, it would still be possible to be richer. But it is quite possible to be completely poor. You just have to have nothing. And it is possible to be purely evil.

‘The Antichrist is pure. Somewhere I saw a renaissance painting where the Antichrist is sitting in his study, he is very beautiful and magnetic and his study is lined with books and statues and painting. And only from the window do you see..’

‘Hell?’

‘No a scene of war and devastation and people being killed in various ways.’

‘You must write a book.’

She suddenly asks me ‘Do you want me to have your babies’?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘Now.’

‘Well we can’t hear or we’ll be chucked out.’

‘Yes unless we were very rich.’

She laughs and she eagerly tells me how she wants to collaborate on a novel together.

‘It’s about a girl. I am not saying it’s me. But a girl who sees a man at a party and knows immediately that he is completely evil. And they have a relationship and then the girl gets worried of what he might do to her and gets out of the relationship. Then the man dies. That didn’t happen.’

I know she went out with a mafia leader in her Italian period.

What name shall we give her?

Something with r in it because that sounds harsh.

And the heroine must win.

Of course.

We discuss books and she says that after Les Liaisons Dangereuses the other book she liked with the theme of evil was the Story of O.

Martin Amis? (I gave her Money.)

Oh I LOVE Martin Amis.

You are the woman of his dreams. Bosomy and evil. He would leave his second wife for you

Introduce me to him!

If you succeed in your intention to run the company from behind the scenes and run it well you will just be being a good international company person. That won’t give you satisfaction. Harold Macmillan said power is no fun unless you abuse it and Macmillan was a good prime minister, but you...

I am relaxing at the moment.

Recoiling to spring further.

Exactly. I am relaxing now but I shall spring much further.

This is not true. She has come to rest in a safe, senior job in big tobacco and an unnecessarily big house in the suburbs of a small, provincial American town. Unless of course she divorces her handsome house husband and marries money. She still has the looks for that but not the opportunities.

‘I want you to have fun but you have to be discreet. And your way to relax is to, you know, play games. Do you have the chance to, what shall I say, to frustrate, to thwart people’s careers?

Sure.

How do you do it? Via HR?

Oh no you don’t need HR. I give them tasks I know they are not able to do.

And these are always your ‘friends’?

Yees! she leans back gleefully cupping her knees in her hands. She is loving this conversation.

The end of the powers of evil, wherever we may place their origin, is world domination. But behind this outer desire for conquest there is a hidden, deeper lust for total destruction. The evil impulse looks for the death of all life, the corruption of all beauty and the perversion of all truth and justice.

The light of the demon-possessed individual with a yearning for absolute power consuming their soul is alluring and scintillating, its strength magnifying itself and deceiving its object so that its source lies unrevealed except to those of spiritual sight who can discern the emptiness of the chalice from which it emanates. ..some frighteningly destructive people seem to have had all the social ingredients for a happy, constructive life. They are called psychopaths, but this categorization does nothing to explain their character. It is they who are especially powerful mediums of destructive cosmic forces, and their power is related to their intelligence and their ability to communicate on a psychic level with other people.

Nurse Heather: Without a Leg to Stand On

By Nurse Heather

There are several great things about working in a busy, big-city hospital. One is the non-stop action. Not a night goes by when I can’t stroll into the ER and find three or four muscle-bound gangbangers in with one of their crew who had been beaten, stabbed or shot. Being a nurse, I of course render whatever comfort I can, oftentimes on my knees in the ER restroom.

In fact, when you walk out our main entrance, you can either turn right and walk up the hill to a relatively safe, well-travelled street, or turn left, down the hill to one of the main forts of the biggest gang in town. It’s not safe for a white girl to travel down the hill alone, but I find myself down there all the time.

The other cool thing is nobody really knows what’s going on, so accidents can happen. Especially when there’s someone like me around.

A couple weeks ago, we had these two patients come in the same day. Both were rather slender young men in their early 20s. It was easy to see both were losers. One had apparently been volunteering in some godawful place and contracted a bad infection. His leg was swollen and the infection was spreading rapidly. He was scheduled to have his leg amputated first thing in the morning.

The other was a so-called athlete. But really, he was just a soccer player. He had torn ligaments in his knee and was scheduled for reconstruction. Apparently, he was one of these little wimps who ran around faking injuries all the time, so when he really went down with his knee all torn up, nobody even believed him. He lay there screaming for about five minutes before anyone looked at him.

Anyway, what do you think would happen if these two losers’ charts got switched the night before their surgeries? Well, that’s what I wondered too. So I switched them.

When I came in for my shift the next day, it was hilarious. That morning, instead of repairing Bobby’s (the soccer player) injured knee, they had just hacked his leg off. Since he was out most of the day, nobody realized the mistake. They wheeled Nick (with the infection) in for his surgery that evening, right around the same time Hopalong Bobby was waking up. They didn’t find a damaged knee. They found an infection that had spread out of control. Actually, what happened to Nick is a pretty funny story too, but I want to focus on Bobby now.

When he got over the shock of seeing just one leg down there, he started screaming bloody murder. About how we ruined his career (big loss) and how the hospital would pay. They had to sedate him. And even though I was quite amused by what I had done so far, I couldn’t resist taking it a step farther.

Bobby actually thought he was a stud and had flirted with me before his unfortunate surgery. I had snuck a peek at what he was carrying around in his shorts and had to stifle my laughter. After the surgery I was glad I had behaved with him, since now he saw me as a friendly, and incredibly hot, face. I went to see him the next day and professed sympathy. I did a great job keeping a straight face as I told him how unfair it all was. I leaned over to adjust his pillow and gave him a good look at my cleavage. I could tell that missing leg was quickly being replaced by a new smaller one.

I flirted with him like that for a couple of days as he talked about the legal action he would be taking and how he would own the hospital someday. That’s when I put my new plan into action.

“Bobby, darling, you have to be careful. Talking like that. There are powerful people here. I’ve heard rumors that they won’t let you get away with your law suit.”

He laughed, but I could tell the wimp was a little fearful. “What could they do,” he asked.

“Look at what they’ve already done. Accidents happen all the time in a hospital like this.” Now the little shit seemed really scared. I went on. “When I’m here, I can keep an eye out for you. But I can’t be here all the time.”

“What should I do,” he asked, now in full panic.

I told him he needed to get out of the hospital. I could get it all set it for him, but he would have to wheel himself out on his own. I couldn’t be seen helping him. I would meet him outside and take him somewhere safe. He was practically in tears as thanked me.

That evening, I helped Bobby get into a wheelchair. I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and wished him luck. Bobby then wheeled himself out, right past several nurses and doctors. When they tried to stop him, he called them all a bunch of bad names and kept right on going.

I was waiting for him just outside the door. I grabbed his chair and told him I had a car waiting at the bottom of the hill. I took him a little ways down the hill, then locked his wheels and said I needed to check on the car. He thanked me again, but said his leg was really starting to hurt. (I think I accidentally gave him a placebo instead of the real painkiller before he left. Oops.)

At the bottom of the hill, one of my favorite bangers, Damien, was hanging out with a few of his posse. Damien had the shoulders of a bull (and the cock too, but that’s another story), and the coolest gold tooth at the front of his mouth. When he saw me, he asked if I was there for blow or for dick, cause he was having a special sale on both. I loved the way he flirted. I told him that on my way down, I passed by this suspicious guy in a wheelchair halfway up the hill. Damien looked up and saw little Bobby.

He asked why I thought the wimp was suspicious. I said I heard him talking on his phone as he was snapping pictures of Damien and the boys. He sounded a lot like an undercover cop to me. The look on Damien’s face almost made cum right there. “Well, we’ll see about that,” he said.

“Wait, I have an idea,” I told him. I went back up to Bobby and told him everything was all set. Then I unlocked his wheels and made sure he was pointed straight down the sidewalk. Then I let go.

The squeals that came from Bobby as he barreled on the sidewalk were hilarious. But when he saw that he was headed straight for Damien and six other giants, the squeals turned to shrieks of horror. I was so excited I started jumping up and down.

Damien took a metal pole (that I had seen him use many times before) and expertly stuck it into one of Bobby’s wheels. Bobby went soaring through the air and landed with a thud. His stitches all popped open and blood poured out of his stump. Damien’s crew began stomping, totally unconcerned about the passersby, who all turned away when they saw what was happening. I was the only one running toward them.

By the time I got there, Bobby’s face was gone, turned to bloody mush. But they continued to kick and stomp until there was hardly anything left but blood soaked hospital clothing. Damien winked at me and said that he owed me one. I was so wet I cashed in right then and there, with Damien and all six of his crew.

Since Bobby had left against medical advice, the hospital was off the hook, and of course, no one dared testify against Damien. It made me feel good. After all, I was the one who had jeopardized the hospital, and so I should be the one to make sure it would come out OK. Because I dearly love my job.

Evil Cheerleader!

By Hobrigef

Denton High. A typical American high school in a typical American town. Some kids liked it, some didn't. No surprises there.

 Amongst the boys, there was the usual mix of jocks, geeks and normals. The jocks bullied the geeks, the geeks kind of huddled together for protection, and the normals ignored the both of them. That was pretty much the scene. The different groups had little in common, so the demarcations made a weird kind of sense.

 There was one thing, however, which united ALL the boys ... jocks, geeks and normals alike. They all of them lusted endlessly after Tanya Richardson.
Tanya Richardson. Head Cheerleader. 18 years old and drop dead gorgeous. Queen Bee.

HCs tend to be the prettiest girl in school, of course, but Tanya Richardson was something else. The spoilt only child of wealthy parents, Tanya was blessed with a face of heart stopping beauty and a body to make grown men tremble. She was an object of intense desire for every boy at DH. Most of the male teachers too, if truth be told. Wherever she went, Tanya was the centre of boys' adoring attention, the focus of adolescent, hormone fuelled yearning.

 Tanya knew this, of course. How could she not?

 She'd known she was a beautiful girl for about as long as she could remember (everyone was always telling her so!) but her awareness of what that really meant ... more precisely, the shattering impact she could have on the male of the species ... had not fully dawned until one day last July. She'd been chatting at home to Morris Briggs, an old friend of her parents who'd popped in to see her father about something. His timing was out (her parents had gone shopping) but he stayed for a while and the two of them talked about school ... how she was doing, plans for the future ... stuff like that. It was a hot day during the summer vac and Tanya was wearing cut off shorts and a skimpy, spaghetti strap top. As Tanya chattered away to Mr Briggs about nothing in particular, she noticed how his gaze kept straying to her long, shapely legs ... to her breasts, almost tumbling out of the revealing top ... and then back again to her legs. His face became flushed and his hands were shaking as he sipped the coffee she'd made him. Tanya didn't fancy Morris one bit (he was old enough to be her father, after all) but she found herself enjoying this situation. With a flash of insight, she knew ... knew full well ... that SHE was the cause of the poor man's discomfort, and the knowledge both delighted and excited her. Suddenly feeling very naughty, Tanya openly flirted with Morris, testing her new found powers, started to tease him with her body movements on the sofa. It had the desired effect. The more poor old Mr Briggs squirmed in a painfully obvious mixture of lust and embarrassment, the more she found she enjoyed it. She felt amused and in complete control the whole time she was tormenting him. It was delicious!

When school resumed in September, Tanya had a new wardrobe (full of outfits calculated to drive the boys crazy) and a new attitude. She worked hard, got good grades, led an active social life (hooked up with big bad Brad Phelps, no less!) but all that was kind of secondary. Because the episode with Morris Briggs in the summer had triggered something in Tanya Richardson (something rather wicked) and the thing she devoted most of her energies to ... her hobby, if you like ... was torturing boys. And one poor boy in particular was destined to suffer most cruelly at her hands. Denzil Harris. 

Brad Phelps and Denzil Harris. Super jock and super geek. The embodiment of the opposite ends of the Denton High pecking order. One at the top, master of all he surveyed, and one at the very bottom.
 
******

Now towards the end her final year, Tanya was having a whale of a time. The position of Head Cheerleader had fallen to her quite naturally (there really was no competition, as the other girls were all too aware) and she was thoroughly enjoying the role. Rehearsals were twice a week. On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, Tanya and the six other members of the squad ... her "backing group" as she condescendingly referred to them ... would slip on their sexy little CL outfits and go practice in the sports hall. Word soon spread amongst the boys that here was a chance to watch Tanya Richardson gyrating around in a very short skirt, white knee socks and a tight, low cut tee shirt. Before too long they were must see events, these rehearsals, right up there with Sunday's match. Every Tuesday and Thursday, as the one pm start time drew closer, the hall would fill up with boys. By the time the squad came out to perform, there'd be a large crowd of spectators – and every single one of them was there to ogle the drop dead gorgeous Tanya Richardson.

 This particular Thursday was no different as Tanya and the squad strutted their stuff, with the boys looking on. 

And Tanya was LOVING it, as always. Being the focus of such male adoration was confirmation of her beauty, and she got a thrilling sense of power knowing the boys were there for HER. She loved the feeling of being desired by all these horny, drooling boys. As she performed, she liked to imagine what the boys were thinking and feeling. Their cocks stiffening as they watched her dance ... breasts jiggling in the flimsy top ... knickers flashing under her short skirt as she twirled around. Did they store away these images and beat themselves off later, fantasising about fucking her? Did they spend every waking hour thinking about her? And did it torture them that they couldn't have her? That she was reserved for Brad Phelps? Oh the joy of being a hot like fire eighteen year old girl at High School! 

Brad never came to the CL rehearsals. For one thing, as the star quarterback on the football team, it would have been beneath him ... and Brad Phelps NEVER did things he considered beneath him. Plus, of course, he had no need to go around pathetically lusting after Tanya Richardson because he could fuck her pretty much anytime he wanted. He knew his gorgeous girlfriend enjoyed having the boys panting over her, that she got a kick out of cock teasing them, but he didn't mind one bit. Just made it even more of a bang for him, that HE was the guy who got to do, on a regular basis, what every boy in school could only dream of doing. Yes, Brad had to admit that he got off on the idea of Tanya deliberately tormenting the other boys, and he encouraged her to be a tease. Sometimes, when they made out, Tanya would gently stroke his dick and tell him how she'd been driving the boys wild that particular day, how she'd worn a short skirt, say, which flaunted her legs ... how she'd tantalised the boys during study period, perched on a desk in her little short skirt, crossing and uncrossing her luscious legs. Hearing Tanya whisper stuff like that, as her soft fingers snaked inside his pants, blew Brad's mind ... a few minutes later, he'd be exploding inside her like a volcano. 

Someone who DID go watch cheerleading practice ... never missed one ... was Denzil Harris. There were geeks, super geeks, and then there was poor little Denzil Harris. Denzil worshipped the ground Tanya Richardson walked on and his adoration was made all the more intense by the sad fact (which he fully recognised) that she was so stratospherically out of his league. In truth, all girls were out of Denzil's league ... he didn't get so much as a sniff of that sort of thing ... but it didn't stop him fantasising. Made him fantasise all the more, if anything, since his default condition was acute sexual frustration. Tanya was, to his eyes, a goddess. She'd never spoken to him except for the one time she'd come across Brad and that bastard Mickey bullying him (when she'd done him no favours) but it didn't matter. She'd probably forgotten that, he thought ... probably didn't know he even existed ... but Denzil kind of accepted his lowly status and tried to content himself with his fantasies. He was quite durable in his own way. Even that thing with Jennifer Clark and the "needle dick" photos ... those awful few weeks of non stop teasing and humiliation after Jennifer did that ... well he'd survived it, hadn't he?
 
******
 
Denzil was wrong about Tanya, as it happens, because she HAD noticed him. She always did. It amused her no end, the number of geeks who came to ogle her at CL practice, and Denzil she recognised as the saddo who Brad was always persecuting. It was true she hadn't spoken to him since the incident a few months back ... an incident she very much did remember since it had kind of gotten her and Brad together ... but, you know, why on earth would she? ... geeks like Denzil were no more than insects as far as Tanya was concerned. Seeing him again now, standing there watching her, with his eyes on stalks and his tongue hanging out, Tanya couldn't help laughing to herself at what had happened that afternoon. She'd walked into what she thought was an empty study room, intending to catch up on some stuff, and there was Denzil cowering on the floor in front of Brad and another jock, Mickey Roberts.

 Mickey Roberts was prodding Denzil in the ribs with his toe ... not really hurting him but clearly threatening to. "Aw, no Mickey, don't," Denzil was pleading, as Tanya walked in.
The three boys looked in her direction. "Hey Tans," grinned Brad, eying her appreciatively, seeming to forget about Denzil for the moment. "Hi," pouted Tanya, returning the look. Brad was the hunkiest boy in school and she'd been thinking for a while that she wouldn't mind dating him. She fancied him rotten for one thing and (what was better) she knew every other girl did too. The thought of going around with Brad Phelps, making all the other girls even more wildly jealous of her than they were already, was a very appealing notion.

 "So what are you guys up to?" she asked, glancing down at Denzil, a sardonic look on her achingly lovely face.

"Do you know Denzil, Tans?" grinned Brad. "Don't believe I do," said Tanya, playing along.

"Hey Denzil," she said, grinning down at him.

 "Say hi to Tanya, Denz," said Mickey, and he gave Denzil a sharp prod in the ribs with his foot. 

"Hi Tanya," grunted Denzil. He was looking up at her with a beseeching expression and Tanya could see the poor boy was desperately hoping she would put a stop to what was going on. Which she could of course, Brad and Mickey (like all boys!) would behave pretty much how she indicated pleased her the most. Realising poor little Denzil's fate was in her hands, Tanya decided to have some fun. The studying could wait. 

"What are you doing on the floor, Denzil? You tired or something?" she asked, still grinning at him. 

"No, I want to get up but they wwwon't let me," said Denzil, pathetically. 

"Aw Brad, why won't you let poor Denzil get up off the floor?" pouted Tanya. 

Brad grinned. "Cos he's a fucking little worm, baby, that's why." "Yeah, that's right," added Mickey, with another prod in the ribs. Harder this time, for Tanya's benefit. 

"Hear that, Denzil?" said Tanya, "the guys think you're a worm. Are you a worm, Denzil?" 

"Nnno, Tanya," he mumbled.

 Brad and Mickey, seeing Tanya was happy to join in, were grinning at each other and preparing to really enjoy themselves. "Well I don't think you're a worm either," said Tanya.

A cruel pause then, smiling ... "I think you're more of a little doggy." 

The two jocks exploded with laughter.

 "Yeah, Denzil the Dog. Has a nice ring to it, that does," said Brad, winking at Tanya. "Say, Tans, what do you think we should do with the little doggy?" 

Tanya looked down at Denzil. God he was pathetic. She flashed a wicked grin. "Get on all fours and go woof, doggy," she ordered.

Denzil did so. On hands and knees, he started making dog noises. "And scamper around a bit like a proper doggy," prodded Tanya, grinning at Brad and Mickey. Poor Denzil did as he was told. Scampered around the room on all fours in a pathetic dog impersonation, with Brad and Mickey jeering him on.

 "Hey, Denzil's a dog!" 

"Go doggy go!" 

Tanya giggled at the pathetic spectacle. What a dork the guy was! She was relishing Denzil's humiliation, also enjoying how the two jocks were kind of competing for her attention and approval. Brad was going to be the winner there ... she'd pretty much decided that ... but it was fun to lead that ugly brute Mickey on too. 

Brad and Mickey were kicking Denzil now. Hard kicks to his ribs and his backside. Denzil was yelping in pain and starting to cry. Tanya settled into a chair and got comfortable. She crossed her legs teasingly in her short skirt and watched the cruel spectacle, giggling and clapping ... egging the two bullies on. She couldn't believe that, even as he was being kicked around, Denzil was still pathetically trying to make like a dog. What a loser! 

"Aw stop it guys, you're hurting him," she said, finally. Brad and Mickey reluctantly stopped the kicking. They stood looking sheepishly at Tanya, thinking they'd perhaps gone too far. Was she angry with them now? Had they blown it with her? 

They needn't have worried. 

"Anyway, he's MY little dog. Aren't you Denzil?" she grinned, to yelps of laughter from Brad and Mickey. Denzil didn't reply. Just stayed on all fours, looking down at the floor ... the floor that he wished would open up and swallow him.

 "Aren't you Denzil?" she mocked, making the poor boy answer. "Yes Tanya," mumbled poor, humiliated Denzil. 

Tanya sat there smiling, letting Denzil stew, enjoying her power. She liked how Brad and Mickey were ogling her legs, gave them both a flirtatious look. Gave Brad a VERY flirtatious look! She noticed that poor little Denzil, despite his undignified position, was also staring at her legs. That amused Tanya no end. As if. 

"You've got GREAT legs, Tans, you know that?" said Brad, grinning wolfishly over at her. Brad had his foot resting on Denzil's stomach but, other than that, the poor little geek was forgotten again. Tanya glanced down at the subject of his compliment. She uncrossed her legs, slowly crossed them again ... skirt riding a little way further up her thighs. She gave him her best come on smile. "Have I, sugar?" she pouted. It had the effect she intended. Brad wanted her badly, she could see that. So did Mickey but, you know, tough.
"Say Tans, how about you and me going out this evening?" Brad said. 

Normally, Tanya would have treated a question like that with disdain. Made the boy asking it jump through a few hoops before turning him down. But this was Brad Phelps. She liked his confidence, his air of entitlement ... something they had in common.

 "Mmmm, well let's see. Think I should check with my little doggy, don't you?" She winked at Brad, completely ignoring Mickey now.

 "Sure baby," chuckled Brad.

 "So Denzil, what do you say? Is it okay if I go on a date with Brad tonight?" 

"Guess so," mumbled poor Denzil, for whom the thought of going on a date with Tanya Richardson was a sort of unattainable heaven. How he wished he was Brad instead of his poor, pathetic self! 

"Cos I won't if you don't want me to," said Tanya, grinning at Brad who was killing himself laughing. Mickey Roberts was looking a bit disgruntled and out of it.

 "I dddo want you to." 

"You sure, Denzil?" 

"Yes Tanya," he stuttered. 

"Well beg then. You know, like a good little doggy. Crawl over here and beg me to go out with Brad tonight." 

Brad was loving this. "Yeah Denzil, let's hear you fucking beg! C'mon you're Tanya's dog, she OWNS you remember."

Denzil crawled over to the giggling Tanya, helped by a serious kick up the rear from Brad. "Please Tanya, ppplease go out with Brad tonight." 

"Um okay. And should I be his girlfriend too?" she pouted.

"Yes Tanya, I want you to be Brad's girlfriend. Please be his gggirlfriend, Tanya." 

Tanya kept poor Denzil grovelling at her feet, pleading and begging, for a few minutes. What a scream ... flirting with Brad, making Mickey jealous and totally humiliating Denzil all at the same time. She couldn't stop giggling. Oh the power!

Time to go though. "Okay sugar, pick me up at seven," she pouted to Brad as she got to her feet. "See you Denz," she said, grinning down at the poor, humiliated geek. "Hey, kiss my foot before I go," she giggled and she slipped one foot out of its shoe, pushed it lazily into Denzil's face, allowed him to kiss it a couple of times. "Seven," she repeated, for Brad's benefit, then she sashayed out of the room, wiggling her bum as she went. The three boys followed her with longing eyes, Brad looking very happy, the other two rather less so. "Bye Tans," shouted Mickey as she was leaving. Tanya didn't reply.

Four Toys - Part Five

Taking notes

By Tammy

...continued from Part Four!

She rode the man for what seemed to be hours to him. Despite his wounds, he was soon approaching orgasm from this fucking. He knew it would not be a good one due to the glue though, and held back as long as he could. However, he could hold no more, and he soon felt soreness in his cock as his fluids backed up in his tube. The worst part is the erection was induced with whatever she had injected him with, and she kept riding him despite his orgasm. At first there was soreness, but then her motions began to affect him again. It didn't take long before he had a 2nd orgasm, despite his predicament. This one was very painful, as there was no place for it to go. He felt the inside of his penis stretching unnaturally. It felt like somebody had inflated a balloon in there. Soon Angela finished having all of her fun, and she dismounted the poor man.

The man’s cock looked like it was pretty sore from all the fun Angela had had. She left for the back and came back with an almost vacuum looking device. However, the end was something that looked like what you would put on a cow when you milked it. Angela had designed it personally and always had some fun with it. She turned it on, and placed it on the man’s penis. It sucked it in, and began to massage his penis. It took a while, but eventually, the thing did its job and forced him into another orgasm. Luckily there was not as much fluid to add to his backed up load, but it still hurt like hell. Angela then left the man in this condition, being milked by her machine. 

She returned an excruciatingly 12 hours later. The drugs causing the man’s unnatural erection had worn off by then, but the machine plus the backed up cum had caused him to remain erect anyhow. She then turned the machine onto extra suction. The man was taken totally by surprise as his penis was pulled viciously into the machine. This was very painful for him, and his bruised cock felt like it was being sucked inside out. Eventually, the pressure from his backed up cum and the incredible suction started to work loose the glue that was in the man’s cock. He felt a tearing sensation, and then an explosion as finally it worked free and all his cum was released. Judging by the small tinks made as well, it had also sucked the bb's right out as well. 

Angela left the machine on for 10 more minutes. This would add extra bruising, and she wanted to see the man’s cock limp and totally black and blue. She finally turned the machine off. However, the remaining suction held his cock fast into the machine. Angela grabbed the nozzle, and started pulling as hard as she could. Finally, after a minute, his cock came free with a popping noise. She started slapping it around, hard, enjoying the pain it caused the man. 

Then she abruptly left the man. This did not give him much comfort though, as his penis had been severely damaged, and was causing him pain even when kept perfectly still. It did not take long for Angela to return, and the man recoiled in horror when she walked in with a set of jumper cables. Angela had taken great care to find a set of large cables, as she had to make sure the jaws would open large enough to fit the man’s testicles. She roughly grabbed his testicles, and massaged them to make sure they were hanging nice and low. Then she took one of the grips, opened it, and placed his left testicle in side. Then she let go. The man began to gyrate as crushing force was applied to his testicle. The inside of the jaw was slightly smaller than his testicle, and it took a moment before it compressed the testicle trapping it completely in the inside. The right one went much the same way. It almost looked as if the man had no testicles, only a scrotum. 

Electrical pain then added to the crushing pain as Angela turned on her special machine. This would start out slow, doing a shock every 5 seconds. The intensity was low, but would increase over the next hour to damaging but not killing pain. Of course electrical and crushing was not enough for her. She took the jumper cables and began to pull on them. She had designed a special hook in the cable around the middle, and took a bungee cable she had lodged to the floor and attached it. This was her 3 for 1 special, and she enjoyed watching the man break down of the next hour. 

By the time it was over, the man had broken down mentally. She took off the jumper cables, and his scrotum was burnt, scraped, and his testicles started to swell. However, they were still intact which would let her fun continue. She then took the man off the wall, but left him tied up, and began to drag him outside. 

The man vaguely noted he was on a farm, and he was being dragged inside a barn. Angela enjoyed all the methods she could use on a farm, and it would be a pity when they had to move on and not use it anymore. The man squirmed as Angela drug him past some calves, but that was not to be his fate this time. She brought the man to where there was a hole in the wall. It was a little small, and Angela had a fun time manhandling the man’s genitals and forcing them through it even though ugh they didn't want to go. She then tied the man up so he had no room to move at all, much less struggle. Directly underneath the hole was a long, old board, which the man’s testicles rested on heavily. Angela then walked some distance away, took a chair, and was very quiet. For this one to work, she had to be patient and silent. 

It didn't take long at all, which pleased Angela. A hungry looking rat cautiously crept down the board, and started to sniff the man’s genitals. Then it started to chew at the man’s scrotum. It was slow painful work, but eventually it chewed off enough to expose the man’s left, huge testicle. The rat managed to get it's forepaws around it, and sunk them in viciously. It then began to pull backward, trying to get the man’s testicle free. It was nowhere near strong enough, but the pain it must be causing the man was priceless. 

The man’s testicle looked like it stretched an amazing 8 inches without its sack to stop it. Eventually, the rat slipped up, and the testicle bounced off the left side of the beam, and hung down the side. It then went back to work on the man’s scrotum. Eventually, it freed the right testicle as well. It must have learned its lesson though and largely avoided it. Then it got to the man’s penis. It was rather large for the rat, but the head was soft, and it found it a very good meal. It devoured slowly but steadily. This man was really hung though, and soon it found itself full. The rat left content, and the poor man was in excruciating pain. 

Angela was surprised at what happened next. Apparently rats weren't the only scavengers waiting around for a good meal. A crow swooped down and landed next to his right testicle. It gathered it into its talons, and then began to fly away. It must have been surprised as the testicle was still attached to the cords, and suddenly pulled taught. The crow comically jerked in mid flight, falling dazed. The testicle roughly smacked down the right side of the beam and hung there. Angela could not help but laugh at this maneuver, and the bird hastily flew away once it knew it had company. 

The man was bleeding a fair amount, and might not live if Angela waited the necessary

amount of time for those animals to return. So she untied the man, and dragged him out of the hole. She was amazed at how large his testicles truly were outside his scrotum, and the agony they must be in right now. They hung an amazing 8 inches below his legs outside their sack, and she was mesmerized by their pendulous swinging motion they made as she drug him to a pen. Once there, she untied the man, and locked him in. He was able to stand, but he would not be able to escape in his current condition. She then went to the neighboring pen. It contained 3 pigs. She opened the gate, and they immediately began to go in to the man’s pen. At first the man wasn't afraid of them, and simply backed up to a corner. The pigs sniffed the blood on the floor from his earlier position, and then began to lick it up. This made the man scared. They then looked his way, and started to slowly chase the man around the pen. It took about 10 minutes for the loss of blood to get to the man, and he finally fell down in exhaustion on his hands and knees. He then tried to squeeze through the bars, even though they were just smaller than his frame would allow. He managed to wedge his shoulders in, but then was stuck sideways. He then collapsed, laying sideways and stuck, as the pigs began to sniff his bleeding genitals. Rather than just simply eat them, the pigs began to ram their snouts into the man’s testicles. He felt their tongues lick up the blood around them as they were brutally smashed into the dirt. They then got to the biggest source of blood, the man’s penis. They didn't ram it though; rather one took the whole thing in its mouth, and then began to chew. 

This was exquisite torture for the man. Pigs are known for their crushing bites rather than sharp bites. His cock was slowly crushed into a pulp over the next few minutes as the pig chewed it slowly but surely right off his body. Finally it crushed it enough that it was totally removed from his body and the pain was lessened to some degree. Until the pigs realized that only the testicles were left. 

They kept ramming them into the ground for the next few minutes. They could not get a grip on them, and kept trying to reposition them to get them in their mouth. Finally one bucked the man’s legs, causing him to roll on to his back to some degree. This lifted his balls out of the dirt, and hanging there, ready for the pigs to get to. His left testicle was the first victim. He felt it enter the pig’s mouth. And then there was just pain. 

Its jaws mauled his testicle twice. Then it apparently decided the taste was not for it, and ran away. Another pig took his other testicle into its mouth, and had much the same experience. The man still had his balls, although they both had been severely mauled and were causing him extreme pain. The last pig licked around his testicles, causing the man to wince as his orbs registered unbelievable pain. Then it managed to suck both testicles into its mouth. Unlike the other two, this one just kept chewing and chewing the tough testes. Eventually, the pig pulled back, stretching the man’s testicles to their limit. It did not take long, and they mercifully came off the man. He had passed out around that point. 

Angela quickly summoned the guards. She would have them try to save this one. The thought of these men being forced to live as eunuchs pleased her greatly. She wouldn't lose a lot of sleep if the scum died though. 

Another job well done, thought Angela. It would probably be some time before they found some more criminals that needed disposing of. After all, the kind that needed this type of punishment was rare. Until then...

The End