Mountain 2

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Jonny and I got dressed and sat in front of the fire a while, wondering what we 
were going to do. Them, to our surprise, came a knock at the door.

We opened it and three heavily dressed figures stumbled in. When they removed 
their hoods and scarves, we found out they were woman! Our prayers had been 
answered.

We let them have dinner and get themselves warmed up into the fire. We 
pretended we were nice people.

The first girl was a tall Scandinavian with a heavy accent. She had long, flowing 
hair and a full figure. The second was a short, 5', Asian with cropped black hair 
and a nice smile. The last was their American tourist guide. She was the youngest 
- 17 she said -  she was a brunette with a slim figure.

We waited until they had fallen asleep. There were three rooms in the cabin; the 
girls slept in the too bedrooms and left us in the living room. Jonny and I had a 
short conversation. He was slightly upset that he hadn't brought anything to 
torture them with. I commented I had brought along a few gags and some rope, 
but I was sure we could make do. We found a toolbox in the cabin, and decided 
it had to do. We were fortunate to have gotten these three bitches to amuse 
ourselves with for the next week.

The girls were too easy to capture. First, we got the Scandinavian, for she was in 
a room all to herself. Strapping her down well, we then captured the other two 
girls, and dragged them into the living room by their hair. They fussed and yelled 
and us, calling us all sort of names, but we just laughed at them.

We tied the Asian to a chair, strapping down her arms and legs and body so she 
could only move her head. She had worn her clothes to bed. They's be fun to 
remove later.

The brunette was still wearing bra and panties, showing off her slim flesh. We 
admired her a moment, hanging by her tied arms to a hook on the wall, feet 
several inches off the ground. We didn't even bother gagging them, and their 
bitchings and threats lulled us off to sleep.

The next morning, we dragged out the blond. She kicked and yelled at us. We 
gagged the other two to stop their complaining. They'd soon have reason enough 
to make noise.

The blond had gone to bed naked. We could see from where she huddled on the 
ground, looking up at us in fear, that her tits were large and firm. They'd be fun 
to smack and whip. Wish I'd brought my taser. Looks like they'd giggle when 
tortured that way. We rolled her over, and found that her ass was also shapely 
and firm. I ran my hand over it, pushing my fingers into her pussy. She struggled 
against my love, but Jonny sat on her head and held her down.

"What first?" My son asked me.

"Well, we still have a lot on time yet, so... Bring me over the pliers from the 
toolkit." He did so.

I tied a 1' rope to the end of her long beautiful hair, and attached the rope firmly 
to the handle of the door, which was securely locked. I tossed the pliers to her 
feet and doubled up another length of hemp rope in one hand.

"OK, fucking whore, masturbate with the pliers or you'll get this!" And I cruelly 
lashed her thigh. She jerked in surprise and tried to run away, but only got a few 
feet before she was jerked back by her hair. Again, I lashed out at her back and 
shapely ass, hearing satisfying smacks of the improvised whip as it landed on her 
tan flesh, accompanied by little yips of pain from her.

I chased her around the small space she was confined to for a while, enjoying 
whipping her frightened body, before she slowly picked up to pliers and placed 
them against her pussy. She hesitated, and I smacked one of her large breasts. 
She yelled, but she slipped the pliers into her pussy. She had a disgusted and 
embarrassed look on her face. We laughed.

We let her masturbate herself for a full hour before we told her to stop. She 
looked up at us with moist eyes. We strapped her securely to the table, and then 
ate some rations.

The blond, who was the only ungagged one, asked in piss-poor English, "please 
... I want food ... Give us food"

"Sorry, dear," I replied, "only got enough for me and my boy here. But don't 
worry, hunger will be the least of your pains before too long." Jonny and I 
laughed and ate.

Later, we turned our attentions to the American. I'd gagged her with the bridle-
gag; the Asian's mouth was full with the ball-gag -- it stretched her jaw open 
nicely.

With a pocket knife, we cut off the American's bra and panties. Her tits we 
medium-sized but not too shapely. She had curly brown pussy hair the same 
color as her shoulder-length head hair.

The first task I happily assigned myself was removing the poor girls pussy hair. 
Since I didn't feel like getting my razor blade bloody, I resorted to pulling it out 
one strand at a time with my bare hands. This couldn't have hurt a lot, but the 17 
year old still screamed shrilly through her gag. While I was doing this, Jonny 
taunted her, "like that bitch? Like what we did to your cunt friend? Do you know 
what we're gonna do to you? We're gonna hurt you so bad. And your screams are 
gonna make me and my dad cum. Then we'll hurt you some more. Why? Cause 
you need it, bitch. You're a fucking baby whore. Bitch cunt slut fuck-doll pig. Do 
you like your breasts? I know I do. Wonder how this feels..." And reaching out, 
he grabbed and twisted her nipple a full 360 degrees around. The poor girl tried 
vainly to escape and shrill moans of pain escaped her young lips. "Does it feel 
good? How bout this..." And he yanked out her breast and much as he could, still 
twisting it. She screamed in pain, and I glanced up. I laughed. Her breast looked 
like a cork-screw. 'Fucking cunt whore dog cry for me bitch make me cum from 
your pain...'

Either the pain or the insults caused her to cry. Poor baby. "Better get used to it," 
I said, pulling out her last pussy-hair, "this is just foreplay!"

We returned to the brunette strapped on the table, her large breasts pushing 
painfully down into the wood. John gagged her with the tourist-guide's panties 
and started rubbing his throbbing cock all over her face, humping her like she was 
giving him a blow-job. I took the pliers and went to her stretched-open cunt. I 
fingered her a little until she started to juice up. Then I found her large clit with 
the pliers and squeezed.

"nnrrrggghhh!" She went as I started squeezing and twisting her clit around. Her 
lovely back arched from the pain, so I took my belt and whipped it. Then I 
started whipping her butt. I did twenty strokes before Jonny came all over her 
face and hair, getting it up her nose and in her eyes. Her head whipped back and 
forth, trying to deny that she was getting sprayed by a strangers smelly cum. 
Jonny went back to sleep, but I didn't stop snapping my leather belt against her 
sweet ass cheeks for a moment with one hand, and cruelly twisting her clit with 
the other. I played her like an instrument, withdrawing different wails and 
screams from moment to moment. I lost count after 100 firm lashes to her ass, 
but I know it must have been double that. When I finished, her noble ass was red 
all over, blistery in many places and bleeding from cuts at some.

I rubbed my prick over her ass cheeks, and the combination of smooth flesh, 
made warm by a good whipping, and sticky blood felt nice. So nice I decided to 
give her a present, and put a tight rubber-band over the handles of the pliers, 
keeping them locked tight against her clit. I smiled at her and smacked her face in 
thank you before taking a rest.

We took out lunch and siesta in front of the warm fireplace. Occasionally, one of 
the girls would moan or make some other sweet sound, but we ignored them. 
We'd give them attention later.

Outside the cabin, the snow was still driving fiercely, and the wind howled 
outside.

About two-ish, we went to the blond again. The sum had dried on her face. 
Recall that this bitch was strapped spread-eagle to the table, and could only really 
move her head.

When she had come in last night, happy to be out of the driving snow, not 
suspecting that she and her friends were walking into the hands of men who 
loved nothing more than hurting them and making their soft bodies suffer never-
ending pain, she had put her bag under the table.

I rooted through it and found a hair-brush. After passing it gently through her 
hair for a minute, cooing to her, 'good girl; good girl; just relax -- no one's going 
to hurt you..." I suddenly smacked her face by it. As the stupid bitch had been 
lulled by my incredible lies, the sting on her cheek caused her to wail out and 
twist around.

Thinking this a fun game, again I smacked her head with the brush, and again, 
building up a tempo; Jonny got a block of wood from the stack, and we played 
tether-ball with her wailing head.

Her head snapped toward me, and laughing I smacked her cheek hard so it 
snapped back to Jonny; since this twisted her face toward him, Jonny's blow, 
accompanied by a great whoop, smashed into her face; the girl shrieked and her 
head came my way again. I hit it to Jonny, and he snapped it back.

When we were done with our game, we sat back, smiling and laughing. It had 
been a great game. We should play that one more often. The Norwegian's soft 
tender face was now a mess of welts and cuts. She cried softly into the gag. I 
sighed and lit a cigarette, happy and content. Jonny asked me for one, but I told 
him no, he was still too young.

"How can I burn this crazy bitch if you wont let me smoke?" He asked.

"I'll do it for you," I said, and casually reached out and snuffed the cigarette out 
on the blonds bloody nose. A little bit of smoke wafted up.

Night came and Jonny and I settled into sleep. We didn't leave a fire lit to 
conserve wood, but bundled ourselves up in our sleeping bags and added the 
sleeping-bags of the girls over them to keep ourselves warm. It worked -- we 
were comfortable. And none of the gagged girls complained.

Day three came, and the storm outside showed no signs of stopping. A well, at 
least we wouldn't be bored. We let the girls warm up after we lit the fire -- they 
hadn't used any sense and were shivering cold when Jonny and I woke up.

This day was spent preparing one thing - hanging the blond. First we got some 
fishing line and bent and sharpened the hook. We prepared two. Next, we had to 
whittle some of the wood down until we had four foot long, 3" thick cylinders.

The next part was hardest: the blond struggled fiercely when we untied her from 
the table and undid the gag. Jonny grabbed an arm and twisted it cruelly behind 
her back. I punched her in the stomach hard and she went "aammggghhh!!!". 
Jonny held her legs tight together so she'd stop kicking me. We dragged her to 
the center of the room, below one of the rafters.

Next, I dug out the sharp lid from one of the cans of food we'd eaten and tested it 
to make sure it was rough and cruel. It was.

I went over to the blond and said, "nice tits, bitch." And grabbed and pulled at 
her left nipple. She moaned and groaned, but Jonny held her still.

However, he had quite a bit of trouble holding her when I lifted up her tit and 
placed the edge of the sharp can-lid against the very underside of her breast. 
Slowly, I dragged it along the soft tender surface, making a 1" deep cut, jagged 
at the edges. It bled profusely, so I cauterized it with a hot poker from the fire as 
I went.

The Norwegian was in so much pain, and her struggles so fierce, Jonny had 
trouble keeping hold of her. Several times she slipped out of his grasp and we 
had to chase her around. This preparing of her breasts took two hours (it 
could've been shorter, but what's the point?)

At the end, I had put six half-circular cuts into each of her ripe tits, burned so 
they wouldn't bleed. She had stopped struggling,, and now lay pathetically in 
Jonny's arms. She still screamed with each new laceration, but her voice was 
hoarse, and her body trembled violently with pain. I had left her pink nipples 
untouched by this cruelty, however.

I threw both fishing-lines over the overhead rafter, and gingerly took the barbed 
hooks (didn't want to hurt myself). Squeezing the blonds now hideously cut-up 
tits hard, I got the nipple to poke out just enough to insert the fish-hook. This 
only caused her to wince however. I similarly baited her other nipple.

Then my son released her. She immediately slumped to the ground, writhing in 
agony. But we put a stop to that: we each grabbed one of the wired attach to her 
nipples and hauled. 

She shrieked as each breast began to be pulled mercilessly skyward. Jonny and I 
tugged and pulled, until her body started lifting off the ground.

I thought that her weight might snap the line, or pull the hook completely off her 
nipple. But neither happened, and slowly, the shrieking girl was pulled painfully 
off the ground. We kept pulling until only the tips of her toes touched the 
ground. Her hands were bound behind her back.

Once like that, we took pleasure in watching her writhe and sway in the air. Each 
twist pulled her tortured tits in new directions. She never stopped screaming and 
howling. Since she seemed to be having so much fun, abused face crunched into 
an anguished grimace, I again flogged her back until that broke out in blisters.

Happy, we set about the final part of the plan. Each of the four pieces of wood 
had a specific place to live in her body.

The first splintery log we shoved up her sweat snatch. I hadn't believed she could 
howl any louder, but as I stretched out her pussy-lips and hammered them against 
the board, she did.

Jonny inserted her asshole log, and nailed the small protruding part to her ass 
cheeks. She howled even louder and the fish-hooks pulled at her nipples.

Then we took a break, stopping to admire our handiwork.

"Just think, Jonny," I lectured my boy, staring at our bleeding, abused, whipped, 
tortured toy hanging by distorted nipples from the ceiling, "just 48 hours ago, this 
poor girl had a life, money, happiness. Her flesh was unbroken and in no pain. I 
doubt she ever imagined that things like what we just did to her could happen, 
less that it would happen to someone as nice and pleasant as her. After all, what 
reason did she give us to abuse her so?"

Jonny replied sagely, "her body is ours to use and abuse because she is a woman. 
No other reason is needed. Her happiness is not our concern, only that her 
suffering should give us pleasure."

Our last action of the day was to apply the final two logs. These we nailed into 
the soles of her feet. Then, we light the logs in on her feet, in her pussy and ass.

The glow given off by the tortured woman was almost as pleasant as the wails 
and tormented shrieks that lolled us to sleep that night.

But we had planned carefully, and when we awoke, she was not dead. Burned, 
yes. Drooling, yes. But the logs in her pussy and ass had only burned to far, and 
there was still stubs of them left up her, kept inside by the charred flesh. Jonny 
and I closely examined her pussy and ass. Any spot that wasn't burned but 
should've been, I burned with the poker. Then we left this worthless piece of 
meat hanging by her nipples while we went to play with the American...