Tara s Bayou Level 1 Fresh Meat
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Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 32 free porn video
Ignoring Elizabeth’s horrified reaction Peter, Andrew and the guards dragging the prisoners made their way to one of the farm trucks where the guards unceremoniously dumped all the prisoners in the back oblivious of the screams of agony from Pretty Boy.
With the prisoners secured in the truck Peter, Andrew and the Ghurkhas changed into rags under the shearing shed.
Khukuris were still prominent.
Standing to one side, Peter and the RSM quietly reaffirmed the strategy for the remainder of the night. They had to ensure that the plans included the destruction of the truck and all evidence of the evening’s activities.
The RSM with his Ghurkhas were to obliterate the DVDs showing the crimes and the laptop from the shearing shed. They were to leave nothing whatsoever to link the events of this night with the disappearance of Dingo and his cronies.
The bright light of the full moon was sufficient to guide them to the far end of the farm where the prisoners were to meet their fate.
At the specially constructed pigpens for the wild boars, the truck halted. The prisoners were unloaded and forced to stand with their backs to the truck facing the pens. Moaning and cursing, Pretty Boy lay on the ground unable to stand on his two broken ankles.
‘We won’t ask for any last requests.’ Cold and emotionless, Peter was most methodical in his manner. ‘Pretty Boy, you sure have a big mouth and a small brain. I really have something special for you tonight that the others will be able to watch and enjoy.’
‘You boast that Jennifer loved your penis and what it did for her. So you’re telling me your penis is your prized possession, are you? What about your face? Now I’ll be as generous to you as you were to Jennifer.’ He bellowed an order.
Two guards immediately dragged Pretty Boy inside the pigpen where others tied him to the fence rails with a rope around his stomach leaving his hands dangling.
‘Strip him.’
The two guards unsheathed their khukuris and Pretty Boy screamed in fear. They laughed at the pool of urine and excrement that flowed to puddle around his feet.
The tips of the khukuris sliced though his clothing drawing blood with every slash. By the time Pretty Boy was naked, his body was covered in little streams of dripping blood from a thousand nicks and he was moaning with the renewed pain.
Fear and agony replaced the insults and curses he’d directed at Peter.
‘Hand me the molasses.’ Peter’s order was cold and calculating.
One of the guards handed Peter a huge pot of the molasses used on the farm for the production of Riverina sheep nuts – cubed, compressed biscuits made of chopped alfalfa, chopped hay and molasses. Using the spade standing in the molasses, Peter liberally coated Pretty Boy’s face leaving his eyes, nose and mouth free.
‘You’re so vain you thought women were yours because you’re so pretty, eh? We have some ravenous females here, and very soon, they’ll be very interested in enjoying your penis.’
Peter’s voice was as cold as ice and Pretty Boy stared at him terrified at what was to come.
When Peter had liberally coated Pretty Boy’s penis and testicles, it was clear that Jennifer’s torturer had something real to fear. Casually, Peter climbed to sit with the others on the topmost rails.
‘Anything to say, Pretty Boy? How’s your penis now. Still willing to flash it and believe it’s just the answer to a maiden’s prayer?’ he teased.
‘Remember the death of your Arab friends? Well their death was speedy. I warned you that anyone who touched Jennifer was a dead man walking. You aren’t walking and will never walk again. You’re as good as dead.’
‘Fuck off!’ Pretty Boy spat the words from his bloodied, toothless mouth. ‘You and your toy soldiers don’t frighten me. Send Red here and watch how a real man looks after his whore.’ To the bitter end, Pretty Boy showed his innate stupidity.
Andrew had demanded to accompany Peter but now, at the sight of this contemptuous man, still willing to degrade his sister, he suddenly felt ill. He looked away trying to quell the turmoil in his stomach. Then he heard Peter’s words.
‘You really are stupid. You’ve learned nothing. Okay! Open the gate.’
Suffering from starvation and driven mad by the smell of the molasses in the air a wild boar, proudly holding its tusks high, skidded through the mud into the pen. It slid to a stop in front of Pretty Boy and began to snuffle at his molasses-coated genitals.
Ignoring the agony, Pretty Boy tried to defend his sex organs by slapping at the boar with his hands even though they hung uselessly from his destroyed wrists but the boar, undeterred and enraged by Pretty Boy’s antics, drove his tusks into the captive’s belly. Pretty Boy’s entrails splattered to the ground.
There was a high-pitched scream and with his wrists, Pretty Boy tried to gather his innards to stuff them back through the huge gash at the same time trying to defend himself even more energetically. His hands didn’t seem to follow the commands of his nerves and the boar just ignored his futile efforts.
Unfortunately, in trying to defend his genitals, Pretty Boy dropped his head so the boar smelt the molasses on his face. It began licking and chewing on his nose and cheeks. Another scream longer and even more high pitched soon became a dreadful, bloodcurdling screech that stretched out to a gurgle as the boar ripped Pretty Boy’s tongue from his mouth.
Andrew threw up.
Tiring of the game, the boar returned to the genitals ripping them from Pretty Boy’s body and tearing chunks of flesh from his groin. Blood gushed from his femoral artery, and, as they watched, Pretty Boy’s heart pumped the last of his life from between his legs.
Given the nod by Peter, a Ghurkha slashed the ropes that bound the body that was once Pretty Boy so that it fell motionless, face down, on the muddy floor of the pen. As another Ghurkha opened the gate to allow three sows and their piglets to enter the pen, Peter climbed down to pour molasses over the body encouraging them to eat.
The smell of death and the grunting of the starving pigs were too much.
Again, Andrew threw up. Vomiting continuously, he clung to the top rail until his stomach convulsed into a hard ball with nothing left to give.
Horrified he watched one Ghurkha gleefully collecting money from the others.
Noticing Andrew’s querying look, Peter said, ‘Don’t worry about them, they’d bet on two flies crawling up a wall. At the moment they are betting on how long these scum take to die or how many pleas they make asking for mercy.’
With hands over his ears, his legs trembling, Andrew turned to Peter. ‘Christ Peter, why are you so cruel?’
Peter remarked to the Ghurkha guards, ‘Keep the other prisoners quiet.’
Then, refusing to answer Andrew’s question, Peter grabbed his arm and dragged him to the truck where he stood looking at a laptop screen.
Placing earphones on Andrew’s head Peter bent to the keyboard and inserted a DVD. As Andrew watched, mesmerised, scream after scream of piteous sobbing, begging for mercy, filled his head.
‘You were told to stay behind but you insisted on accompanying me.’ Peter’s words were cruel and set in ice.
‘Now listen, watch and then ask me why. Just dare ask me why! What you saw in the shearing shed was a sanitised version of what you are about to see.’
‘Tonight you leave your boyhood behind or forever remain an ineffectual brother to your sister. Either stand up as a man, or join the boys playing marbles in the schoolyard. You can’t have it both ways.’
Again, Peter bent over the keyboard.
Yet again, the sounds of piteous screams and begging filled Andrew’s ears. ‘My husband! Peter will…’
Pretty Boy answered Jennifer’s distress with insane laughter. ‘Dingo ordered the death of your husband and I killed him. Yes, your soon-to-be lo
ver killed your husband.’
Andrew watched Pretty Boy rip the clothes from his sister then release his phallus.
‘Oh please, no, no please don’t! You’re tearing me.’ The sounds of Jennifer’s terror and the pitiless chortling of Pretty Boy filled Andrew’s ears.
Andrew could not drag his eyes away from the screen as he watched the video of Jennifer as Pretty Boy mounted her. Repeatedly he ripped into her body until her mouth, vagina and anus were bleeding and she had collapsed from the pain.
‘For God’s sake, Peter! Turn the bloody thing off! I’ve seen enough.’
Peter ignored Andrew’s request. That DVD clip finished and another began.
Naked, Jennifer was kneeling on a floor and she was tearing at the collar around her neck, trying to get her breath.
‘Kneel and put your hands on the floor. Offer you body to my little pet!’
The camera swept to the wife of Dingo, the Katoey, who was holding a huge Bull Mastiff by the collar.
When Jennifer did as commanded the pressure of the collar was relaxed and the huge dog, ‘Enough! Peter, for Christ sake, that’s enough.’
Andrew was distraught. ‘For God’s sake stop. Stop the bloody thing, now. I’ve seen more than enough.’ Andrew snapped. ‘They’re worse than animals. I’ll kill them for what they’ve done. What were they thinking? That’s my sister for Christ’s sake. Take me back now! No death is painful enough for what they did!’
Peter reached out and took Andrew by the arm. Kindly he explained, ‘One more clip and then we return to our prisoners. Bear with me!’ He was determined to prove that his vengeance was just.
The third clip started.
The remaining prisoners in their uniforms as security guards stood around a terrified Jennifer hanging by the wrists from a low beam. Dingo giggled and chortled as he encouraged the others to strip.
Like a pride of lions around their recent kill, they ignored Jennifer’s piteous wails and her begging for mercy as they lowered her to the concrete floor.
Then each man raped her. At first, they took her one at a time but Dingo called a halt when three remained. He gave an order and the men changed positions, the three guards approaching Jennifer as a team. The rape that followed was of an entirely different nature.
As Andrew watched the screen, he saw one man take his sister in the anus and another in the vagina until Dingo insisted they make her airtight. A third guard forced his penis so deeply into her mouth that she seemed to be choking.
‘Enough!’ Andrew begged, slinging his earphones to the floor of the cab. ‘Jesus, Peter! Enough is enough. I’ll kill each of them. My poor bloody sister.’
Stony-faced, Peter switched off the display and turned to his brother-in-law.
‘For months I’ve been through Dingo’s collection of DVDs and finances seeking clues and all the while you and your parents were attacking me for not caring about Jennifer. The sights, you’ve seen tonight, are nothing compared with what I’ve seen and had to live with for months. How could I share these scenes with your parents?
‘I had to keep all this information to myself yet your demands crushed me. Moreover, your threats hurt. What was I to do? I was between a cleft stick and a hard place, but I was determined to arrive where we are tonight. I’ve had to go through hundreds of clips by myself and you’ve only seen three tiny segments.
‘How the fuck do you think I feel about all this? Sure as hell I’m not laughing. The bastards have taken me back to the horrors and humiliation of my childhood with all its misery. I believed The Little One had disappeared. Now he’s back and frankly, I don’t like the terrible feelings that have returned with him.
‘The woman in those clips is my dearly loved wife. Those animals had her in their power and they didn’t care what they did to her. Well, tonight they pay for their sins and a horrific payment I’m going to exact.’ Peter’s eyes flashed with a deep-seated anger, yet at the same time, he was sad that these monsters had resurrected his demon, The Little One.
‘Tonight the ‘Angel of Death’ is collecting each of our prisoners,’ he said. ‘If you’ve no stomach for what is coming, you’re welcome to join your parents and Jennifer.
‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s is tonight’s theme and for this exercise I’m Caesar. Vengeance is Mine sayeth The Lord and for what is to happen, I’m His Handmaiden. All our prisoners will be dwelling in Hell tonight and I’ll be back to hold my Jennifer within the hour.’
Wheeling around, Peter stormed away from the truck.
He was surprised when Andrew ran after him and grabbed his arm. Hauling Peter around to face him, he spoke what was on his mind.
‘Well, my brother, tonight there are two Caesars. This Caesar demands the death penalty. I’ve no compunction, no Christian charity no turning of the other cheek, nothing but the utmost desire to wreak my vengeance on them. No method of killing them could ever be payment for what they’ve done.’
Inside the pigsty, Dingo was furious at his imprisonment and abandoned for so long, but the other prisoners were more realistic, moaning and begging forgiveness.
Peter ignored them and called out, ‘Bring three of Dingo’s guards.’
‘No!’ he added in tones that were more sinister. ‘Andrew and I believe that ladies should go before gentlemen. Bring the nurse and the Katoey. I think we’ll add the doctor as well.’
Peter wasted no time when the three were standing before him. ‘Well doctor, you pierced nipples and clits and you were preparing Jennifer for a long sea voyage. How many of those bodies in your morgue were the result of your actions?’
The night air resounded with the disdainful hoots of the Ghurkha guards as the Doctor dropped to his knees to beg for his life. With a few words, some of the guards handed money to one who appeared to be holding the stake.
‘Oh, don’t beg and grovel. It’s far too late for that,’ he snapped. ‘Put them in the second pen! Strip them.’
Again, the steel of khukuris flashed in the moonlight and again blood flowed from numerous nicks. The three prisoners stood naked their bodies covered in a fine sheen of blood.
Andrew was astounded that the beautiful Katoey was a transvestite with male genitals and he fully expected these three to suffer the same ignominious end as Pretty Boy. He was curious when Peter patiently explained that they were going to form a Siamese Knot, reminding the three they would live while they remained motionless.
Peter sat the nurse and the Katoey in the mud and then sat the doctor against the nurse, between her legs. Satisfied with their seating positions and rejecting their pleas, he then began to knot the three criminals together in a maze of intertwined arms, legs, heads and torsos.
As he completed the knot, he explained. ‘Doctor, you’re in the ‘Traitor’s Position’. We’ll see if you suffer the most.’
‘You,’ Peter explained to the nurse, ‘are in the Lone Victim’s position’ as he forced her legs as far apart as possible. Peter called the Katoey the Joined Victim and again patiently explained they would live while they didn’t move.
The doctor tried to ease his aching legs but the chiling screeches of his two fellow prisoners made him relax. For quite some time the three remained motionless.
Peter, tired of waiting, roared an order and a Ghurkha drove some piglets into the pen.
The nurse screamed and thoughtlessly tried to move from the snuffling snouts. The doctor shrieked with the pain and suddenly his head dropped. The noise stopped immediately.
The Siamese Knot tightened. The arms and legs of the three in the knot, fighting for freedom had strangled him. Struggling, the two women, with their wails of agony cut short, died with him.
Guards poured molasses over the motionless bodies. Two boars, their sows and piglets rushed into the pen to feed.
Emotionless Peter began to stroll
back to Dingo. ‘Strip him. Free him.’ Khukuris flashed in the moonlight and Dingo was naked. Like Pretty Boy, his body was sweating blood from all the nicks where the Ghurkhas had sliced his clothes free from his body.
Bleeding profusely, Dingo was looking for any way out. Almost by chance, he noticed his revolver on a post. Too desperate to be wary, it took no more than a quick snatch to regain its possession, and he stood there, grinning, once more in control. He was a strange sight — naked and bloodied yet holding the gun. The grin was momentary.
‘You bastard, you’ve killed my son.’ He barked as his eyes narrowed. With drool dripping from the corners of his mouth like some rabid dog, he growled a curse at Peter.
Levelling the gun at his target across the clearing, he lovingly squeezed the trigger.
The gun exploded and Dingo groaned staring at the remains of his hand as he fell to the ground. The booby-trap, set so long ago in the workshop, had blown his right hand apart.
‘Bring the tar.’ Peter’s reaction was cold blooded.
A guard sprang forward and, to staunch the bleeding, forced Dingo’s hand into the boiling tar from the shearing shed.
Dingo’s angonised screeches seemed to echo from the trees of the nearby forest.
Never before had Andrew witnessed such torment.
He was speechless. He found it impossible to equate this cold, calculating killer with his brother-in-law, who was so passionately in love with his sister. Even without asking, Andrew knew that Peter had carefully orchestrated this pantomime with the revolver for Dingo’s benefit.
A Ghurkha threw a bucket of water over Dingo and dragged him to his feet.
Peter reminded Dingo, ‘You ordered not only Red, as you called her, but all the girls to be pierced. Now we’ll see how you like it.’
Two guards held him while one held out his penis. Peter took an ear tagging punch, used on the farm to attach a plastic identification tag to either sheep or cattle, and drove one tag through the head. His shrieks cut through the night air.
Andrew had steeled his nerve so he could help Peter avenge all these atrocities, but the sight of this torture put a quick end to his self-control. As he turned away to throw up yet again, he heard Peter’s sardonic comment behind him.
‘Hurt did it Dingo? How many girls took this treatment at your orders?’
Dingo was breathless and speechless, doubled up and moaning in agony. The pain was excruciating.
Peter drove another and yet another ear tag into Dingo’s penis until he crumpled to the ground. With a snarl, Peter threw another bucket of cold water over him.
‘Hurting eh, Dingo? Now for the taxi drivers you had killed. I believe you used a baseball bat and beat the young kids to death. That’s all they were – young kids.’
Peter nodded and a Ghurkha swung a baseball bat into Dingo’s knees. The first blow crushed one knee then a second blow crushed the other. No one took any notice of his pleas for mercy.
‘By the way, thanks for the money and bullion you donated to the girls’ education, the girls you pushed into your brothels. Very kind of you, you piece of vermin.’ Peter reached for his khukuri and as it flashed, he bent low to castrate Dingo with one slice.
Andrew’s stomach heaved again. It was all too much for him.
However, there was nothing left to bring up. Feeling dizzy, he struggled to keep his balance, and as he clung to the rails of the pen, he remembered the screams of his sister and could only feel satisfied that the crimes against her had earned a just reward. He was amazed that no longer did he want to vomit and the terrible retribution seemed just. In fact, he felt pleased that Peter was judge, jury and executioner.
‘Put him in the pigpen.’ Peter continued his orders and waited before adding. ‘Kill him!’
The RSM stepped forward, his khukuri glinting. One flash of the blade sent Dingo’s head rolling on the ground. As the head rolled free, Dingo’s body shivered and shook with blood pumping from the severed neck. It was such a gory sight that even Andrew, accustomed to butchering cattle, sheep, pigs, fowls, ducks, geese and turkeys was compelled to turn away.
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