Chapter Nine.

In the dark, the only thing that Donald Amundsen could concentrate on was the pain. The sharp stinging one both sides of his neck and the dull ache of his chest every time he inhaled a breath. He strained, trying to push the plug out of his rectum, but it was either too large or his muscles were not strong enough. The blunt burning pain of his genitals which felt like it was growing up inside toward his bowels. His legs weren't too bad as long as he didn't bump them on the floor.

What felt worse than the pain was the helplessness and vulnerability. He could barely move. He was completely in the bitch's control, and it infuriated him. The ropes under his arms had chafed his skin through the shirt she had partially cut off. He hung his head forward and tried to relax. The pain was not so severe yet that he couldn't try to sleep. He wondered who this Rachel person was that the black haired bitch kept talking about. His throat was so swollen and sore from screaming that it was pointless to continue. He knew from experience that no one would hear anything.

Once he had brought a hooker home with him. He hadn't tortured her as he was being abused now, but he had tied her up to this very eyebolt and beaten her. She had screamed for what seemed like hours, loud piercing shrieks that he was sure someone would hear. Her body was still buried out back behind the house in the trees.

He escaped into the dark corners of his own mind. Some of the pain wasn't so bad, now as he thought about it. His memories of the slut he had brought home kept him occupied for a while, until he felt himself starting to get hard. He felt a strange popping sensation above the monotonous burning. There was a strange cold and hot at the same time kind of feeling below his heavy stomach. It didn't hurt any more or less than before, so he disregarded it and went back to his fantasizing.

Upstairs, Dana had gone snooping some more. In another drawer in the bedroom, she had found several female items that she was sure didn't belong here. A lacy bra and matching panties that wouldn't fit that fat disgusting lump of flesh in the basement, even if he were so inclined. She dug a little further and found two small purses. Opening one, she found an ID card and some makeup and a couple pictures. She took out the ID and looked at it. The face on the card looked very similar to the woman that had been pulled out of the river months ago, Lola. She put the ID back, and opened the other bag. Basically the same items as the first, when Dana looked at the identification she didn't recognize the blonde woman's photo. She put the items back where she had found them.

There was nothing else of interest in the room, so she went back to turn on the television. The reception was mediocre; he only got two of the five local channels. It was nearly time for the early news to come on; she wanted to see if there were any new reports on missing persons. She went back into the kitchen for the bag of groceries she had brought in. There were a couple bags of chips and other snack type foods that she would not have to cook.

Tearing open on of the bags of chips she went back to the front room. She sat on the couch, since the chair was still tipped over backwards. Her eyes were on the television, but her mind was somewhere else.

The room was dark, and she could hear someone moving around. Sleeping on her stomach, she didn�t dare roll over to let him know she was awake. She could smell stale beer and hear a heavy breathing. There was a hand on her back, pushing up her nightgown. The hand roamed down her buttocks as she tried to stay perfectly still. She whimpered as she felt something cold and sticky smeared on her, and then the stretching and stinging. Biting the pillow because it hurt. And she didn�t dare scream. Last time when she screamed, a heavy hand in the dark covered her face and she could not breathe. Right now she could breathe and it would not last much longer, the pushing was going faster and faster and that meant it would be over soon. She heard a grunt behind her and a few moments later, she felt the weight lifted. Her thin legs were sticky and damp. The door squeaked a little as she heard it being shut. She waited a few minutes, and then crept quietly to the bathroom. She turned on the water, wetting a rag and wiped herself clean.

Dana�s body jerked as she startled awake. She raised her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes, and her mouth opened wide in a yawn. She looked toward the window, noticing it was dark outside. The lamp in the corner of the room had been left on since the previous night, and she got up and looked around for a clock to see what time it was.

In the bedroom there was a digital alarm clock, it�s numbers glowing red in the dark. Nine thirty already, she must have dozed off for a couple hours. It would probably be a good time to go check on old Donald, maybe give him some water. She went into the kitchen and started opening the cabinets. There were several large plastic cups in the second one she opened. Taking one down, she turned the tap on and filled it with water.

Downstairs, she turned on the light. He appeared to be either unconscious or asleep. He didn�t move as she walked around. She stepped closer to him to see if he was still breathing. When his eyes suddenly opened, they were red and glazed over. She turned and picked up the plastic tube and the cup of water. Standing at a safe distance, she prodded at his mouth to get him to open it. His eyes narrowed as he opened and she stuck the tube in. Most of the water went into the tube, but some spilled, leaving splattered drops on the cement floor. She counted to ten slowly in her head, and then took the tube away.

Setting the tube back on the bench, she looked over the rest of the items she had brought. Whatever pain he was in seemed to be at a tolerable level, he had been quiet for most of the day. Time to come up with something to make him scream again. Every time she began to think that she was done, she remembered all the mutilation and torture that Rachel had gone through. It strengthened her resolve.

Turning back to the hanging man, she noticed another dark puddle underneath him. She bent down to take a closer look. His genitals were split, cracked and bloody. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The smell down here was getting nauseating.

She picked out one of the knives. Going around behind him, she cut down the back of his shirt, spreading it apart and pushing it down off his wide shoulders. The skin of his back was covered with thick gray hairs. It gave her an idea but it would smell terrible.

On the bench was the bottle of lighter fluid. She put on another pair of gloves and picked it up. Walking around him again, she saw the rag she had gagged him with and picked it up. She held the bottle up and squirted some across his back. With the rag, she spread it out evenly all over the hairy skin. She took the lighter out of her pocket, lit it and held the flame to his back.

He let out a high pitched scream that quickly turned into a raspy grating groaning. The reeking smell of burned hair filled the cellar. His back had flared up quickly, but didn�t stay burning long as she grabbed the half empty cup of water and threw it on him. The heat had raised many blisters, some the size of a quarter in diameter.

Next she picked up the bag of clothespins. She thought for a moment, the tore the bag open and clipped two of them on his nipples. His body was still twitching from the fire. Then she bent down in front of him again. She clipped another one to his scrotum. The darkened skin practically liquefied as it clamped down.

Dana tossed the bag of clips back onto the workbench. She tore open the three pack of superglue. Opening one tube, she turned back to the man hanging. She held the tube up and squirted a line across one eye. He blinked quickly then his eye was sealed shut. Then she filled the second eye. She picked up the pliers and the knife. When he opened his mouth again, she quickly grabbed his tongue with the pliers. She pulled it out and with a quick flip of the knife, she sliced it off.

Blood spurted out in a spray of red. He started gagging and choking as the blood ran down his throat. Over and over he spit gobs of crimson fluid. This was definitely more exciting. She stepped back to the stairs and sat down to watch. It took almost half an hour before the bleeding stopped. He was still making terrible guttural noises in his throat.

Dana decided it was time for another break. Hopefully, he wouldn�t choke and die on her. She didn�t bother turning the light off this time, he could not see anything and it made it easier to go down the stairs. She headed back up to the kitchen.

She wondered if there were any bars nearby. A couple beers sounded good right about now. Deciding to check it out, she went out to her car, the back door slamming behind her. When she had walked to her car, she tore the cover off and stashed it in the bushes. Making sure there were no cars coming from either direction, she quickly pulled out and headed back to North Plains.

After driving through and not seeing anything, she headed toward Hillsboro. She could get a drink at the Cornelius Pass Roadhouse. She drove down the Sunset Highway to the exit and then to the parking lot. It was pretty close to the freeway and she could get back quickly if she needed to.

Pulling the door open, she headed straight to the bar. After looking at the drink menu, she decided that beer wouldn�t be appropriate right now. Ordering a martini, she turned to look at the rest of the people in the bar. There were not a lot of customers; the Roadhouse was usually more of a restaurant not a big bar scene. There was an older gentleman sitting at the opposite end of the bar from here, a group of four in one of the booths and a few couples scattered at tables.

She sipped slowly from the glass, not wanting to get drunk. A busy night was in store for her. Staring at the liquid in the glass, she calculated the amount of time left and what she still wanted to do. She still had one more day of vacation. After she went back, she would probably try to give him more water and then go home for the night. Hopefully he could swallow, she could jam the tube down his throat and force him.

Another thought occurred to her. He wouldn�t need any food; he could live off that large gut for the few days he had left. How long could a person live without water? She couldn�t remember, but that didn�t matter. By this time tomorrow night, he would be finished. Then what? Should she clean up and get rid of the body?

Dana considered what her plan would be after he was dead. All the time she had been thinking about this, she hadn�t really thought much about what to do next. She finished the rest of the martini and set the glass down on the coaster on the bar. Nodding to the bartender, she ordered another drink.

She should probably get rid of the body somehow. But how? It was December, and the ground was very soft from all the rain that had fallen since autumn had started. Burying the body would be a lot of work; she could probably find a shovel in the tool shed. It would be possible to dump it somewhere, but she was afraid the smell might attract unwanted attention. Chemicals might make the body dissolve faster, but there was a lot of body mass there.

What if she bled the body out and then burned it? There were many houses out in the rural areas with burn piles. She would have to check the yard behind the house. She wondered how long it would take for a body his size to bleed out enough to burn. She took another sip from the martini.

A visit to the library was in order. That way, she could get online and look up a few things. She had quite a list started in her mind now, many things to consider.

Dana finished the rest of her drink and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. It was one of the twenties she had found in Donald Amundsen�s wallet. Drinks were on the sick bastard tonight.

She got up from the bar stool and walked calmly and slowly to the door. The rain seemed to have stopped for the night, it had been pouring all day long. Hurrying to the car, she got in and started it up. It was time to get back to the house.

She drove quickly and parking in the hiding spot. The car cover was pulled out from the under brush and tossed over the car. The walk from her car to the house was becoming familiar. The darkness enveloped her as she walked briskly back to the house. She went around to the back, but it was too dark to see if there was a burn pile. It would have to wait until morning when it was light out.

Downstairs, she picked up the cup from the workbench and went back up to fill it with water. In the cellar, she took the tube again and slapped him across the face with it. She didn�t know how well he could swallow, and didn�t want to take a chance. Prodding the tube against his lips, he finally opened his mouth. She stuck the tube in, partly down his throat and he gagged a bit. Pouring the water down the tube it splashed and spilled over him.

He started coughing and she took the tube away. That was enough for now. She was starting to get another migraine and suddenly wanted to be home in bed. The alcohol wasn�t good for her and she knew it, but she felt like drinking anyway. She didn�t see that his eyes had pulled apart a bit, he could see a little through the partially opened slits.

She set everything back down on the bench and left. Her head was throbbing now and she knew that soon the tunnel vision and numbness would come soon. She should not have even wasted the time coming back, she should have just gone home. At least now she knew he would make it though until tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would go to work with the pliers, removing his teeth. In the morning, that way she would have time to gut him and let him bleed dry. She had pretty much decided that burning would be the best way to get rid of the corpse. If there wasn�t a burn pit in the back yard, then she could come up with something different. She wasn�t looking forward to the dismemberment she might have to do, she would have to check the tool shed in the day light to see if there was anything in there that she could use.


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