So I became a courter of women.I threw lavish parties where I could view and sample the ßowers of the nobility.I spoke with women who had been educated in Paris and Vienna, whose natural gifts for music or art had been encouraged by the masters of those Þelds, and who had been trained from birth to be charming and alluring.But as I strolled with them in gardens or gave them tours of my galleries I found them to be, ultimately, superÞcial and witless.Many of them I rapedÑI threw them down on the spot where they had disappointed me, whether it be beneath a rosebush or a Monet, and I threw up their skirts and rutted with them as if they were dogs, for they had proved themselves no better.I held their weakly ßailing arms and smiled at their tears and cries, and I violated them well and thoroughly.I knew them to be far too conscious of their reputations to reveal to any what I had done to them.But the pleasure of it was ßeeting, and still I craved more.

Then I came to realizeÑwhy was the simple revelation so long in the arrival!Ñthat there was no woman my equal.I knew already that no man alive was superior to me in native faculties; why had I expected differently from the fair sex?

I was not long despondent.If God had attempted to deprive me of my victory by making me peerless, yet I would defy Him and form myself what He had chosen not to.I could create life as well as HimÑnay, better.It was simple.I would beget a child, a daughter.She would be gifted with my intellect and sensitivity, for there was no question but that my genes would be dominant. The mother was rather a trivial consideration; I would look for some aspects of physical beauty in her, that might be complimentary to my own.But the spirit of the child would surely be my own.

In the search for the ideal mother, my manservant Edgar was of invaluable assistance.Edgar is of course actually my younger brother, but his birth deformities (caused, no doubt, by the tortures my father inßicted on my mother during her pregnancy) leave him incapable of coherent speech or thought.Still he is, though physically twisted and repulsive, quite strong, and fanatically loyal to me.I have always treated him with proper fraternal respect and affection, and allowed him to participate in my sports.Edgar cannot actually complete the sexual act, but he does have an appendage that resembles a cock, and he can gain some pleasure from witnessing or even (to a limited extent) participating in the brutilization of women.

Edgar brought me a succession of whores, whom I ÒentertainedÓ back at the manor.In due time he fetched me a girl that tightened my balls at the Þrst sight.She had, of course, suffered somewhat from her life on the streets, but her round blue eyes and blonde ringlets still lent her the exact air of angelic innocence that I desired for my daughter.

ÒOooh, sir, you do have a right Þne place,Ó she said, staring about my foyer.Her harsh accent grated my nerves, so I strode to her and clasped a Þrm hand over her mouth.

ÒI believe youll Þnd my dungeon more accomodating,Ó I said, and, wrapping the other arm about her waist, I unceremoniously dragged her down the dark, narrow ßight of stairs leading underground.There Edgar and I had already prepared her cellÑa ßat wooden table with thick leather straps, Þt for restraining the cunt while I worked my will on her.As I strapped her down, spread-eagled, she struggled and screamed.The timbre of her voice was not unpleasantÑshe was a natural soprano, and my favorite music is that of terror.

I worked off her boots and socks ÞrstÑshe wore brown leather lace-up boots, delicately heeled, though the leather was worn and the laces frayed.Then I pushed her ßimsy skirts up about her legs, baring the knees and calves.Her skin prickled instantly with the cold.It was a beautiful sightÑthe lovely blond woman, face distorted with terror, restrained with thick leather manacles about her slim wrists and ankles, legs forced open, skirts touseled, revealing the vulnerable body beneath.

At this point I grew weary of her screams, which had become somewhat hysterical, so I struck her several times across the face.This did silence her but the bruising and bloodying of her rosebud mouth was somewhat unfortunate.I reminded myself that this whore was only the dimmest shadow of the vision that would be my daughter.

ÒEdgar,Ó I said calmly, Òa knife, please,Ó and my misshapen brother lumbered out of the shadows to hand me the long bejewelled dagger that I like to use on such occasions.It is a family heirloom, originally obtained in the Orient.My father used it to cut Edgar out of my mothers stomach, and when I became old enough I used it to castrate, sodomize, and eventually murder my father, punishment for that reckless destruction of Mothers beautiful body.But enough of the golden days of yore.

I ran the blade up one of the whores soft legs, and she stiffened.When I met the resistance of her clothing I began to cut it away, careful not to nick or scratch the girl herself. She began to sob.Soon I had shredded all her clothing, leaving her naked and spread-eagled on the wooden board.She was shivering violently, and tears streamed down her pretty face. Her breasts were perfect, white and rounded, with delicate pink nipples tightened from the cold.

I lay the knife aside, and cupped a breast with one hand.I heard her breath hiss between her teeth.I rolled her nipple between my Þngers, gauging her sensitivity.She ßinched at even the slightest pressureÑa good sign.

Casually I withdrew my cock, and swung myself up onto the table. I lay above her and stared into her tear-Þlled blue eyes.I love that momentÑI love to watch the womans dawning certainty that she will be hurt and used.Her understanding that she is utterly powerless, and may be abused in any fashion.I waited until I saw the light of that horror in her eyes, and then I smiled cruelly and forced myself into her helpless cunt.I had her brutally, thrusting hard again and again, listening only distantly to her cries.Her body was taut beneath me, rocked by my onslaught.

There is no greater pleasure than the one that comes at anothers pain.Rape is so graceful, so economical, so pure and holy.The one act provides reward to the strong at the same moment that it punishes the weak.Every thrust of my cock brought me warmth and sweetness, and her pain and terror.The pain, of course, forces a woman to be properly attentive.A willing woman may dream of another mans face; a woman raped can think of nothing but the beast violating her.Her entire being is centered upon the agony.There is no other way to truly take a woman.

When I had Þnished with her I withdrew and stood above her for a moment, listening to her weeping, running my eyes over her battered body.Her pale skin was marked red where my Þngers had grasped her; her round teats and hardened nipples rose and fell with her sobs.Though she strained against the manacles, clearly wanting to curl into a fetal ball of pain and humiliation, she was forced to remain spread and utterly open to my gaze.I do enjoy my handiwork.

Then I threw a coarse woolen blanket over her and, without one word of explanation, no syllable to acknowledge her existence as a rational creature, left her cell.

What Edgar did with her then I do not know.

ÑEnd of Part OneÑ

The Diaries of the Baron von Kroger
Part TwoÑThe Bearing

I visited the whore every night.She did not conceive the Þrst month, or the second.She begged for death; we had to forcefeed her.Mostly she was kept upon the table, though twice a week I released her for exercise.At these times I would use a long whip to herd her to the stairs, and, lashing her sharply about the legs and ass, force her to run up them.Edgar would be positioned at the head of the staircase, eager to whip her back down again.After Þve laps up and down the stairs we would return her to her cage, and then, if I had not heard enough of her pleading and crying, or if I wished to see her breasts or belly welted, I would continue to whip her.

In general, I prefer to whip a chained woman.The small, futile ßinches and cringes are more delicious than the running and the cowering, and often her screaming and begging becomes more intense when she cannot move.

The third month my violated madonna did conceive, and then I became more careful in my punishments.By this time she had gone quite insane and was no longer very interesting in her own right. We built a muzzle to hold her mouth open; this made forcefeeding easier, and also prevented her from biting herself.As her belly grew bigger I took to satisfying myself in her mouth.The muzzle allowed me to force myself deep into her throat without fear of her teeth, and I did like the little choking whimpers she made.

When the time came Edgar and I anaethsitized the slut and performed a surgery on her to deliver the child.Though one of Edgars hands has only three Þngers and the other has eight, he really can perform very nimble operations, and he has an amazingly strong and steady grip.I let him stitch up the whore while I held my daughter for the Þrst time.

I carefully washed away the blood that covered her, the premonition of the violation awaiting her, and clothed her in white.She was pure and perfect.She was woozy from the anaesthesia and did not even cry; she stared at me with wide blue eyes and waved her tiny, ßower-like hands in the air.She was mine, mine, my daughter, my beautiful perfect lady, an entire holy life to slowly degrade and torture.She was my masterwork. I ran my Þngers over her little, little cunt and wept for sweet victory.

I named her Innocentia.

I did not kill the whore.She was after all the mother of an angel, and deserved some recompense for her trouble.So instead I gave her to Edgar.He was ecstatically grateful when I made it clear that this woman was now his alone.He kissed my hand and hugged me, giving me to understand through his crude gestures that his loyalty to me would never die.

As he unstrapped the woman and took her in her arms, I think some comprehension dawned in her mad eyes, for through the muzzle she made a low and terrible moan, and fainted.

I have not seen her since; Edgar keeps her in his chambers.But I do not doubt that he cares well for her.He is even, after his fashion, faithful to her; for since then he has shown no interest in any other woman.As I have mentioned, Edgar is not capable of ejaculation.But his stamina is immense and his interest always piqued.I do not think that woman passes one day without his three-Þngered hand prying her, his drool dribbling down her skin, his misshapen cock forced into her throat or cunt or ass. In a way it is quite sweet.

ÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑÑ

I did not rape Innocentia for sixteen years.

I raised her as daddys little angel. I gave her love and attention, the Þnest tutors, the most beautiful clothing. I did make a few modiÞcations. I had her underclothing made of the softest fabrics money could buy, and her dresses were likewise cushioned along the front. That way I insured that her nipples and cunt never roughened, and never experienced any but the most gossamer of touches. They would grow exquisitely, unbelievably sensitive.

Her mind was as keen as my own; she devoured textbooks. By the time she was eight she was reading Greek classics. She was talented, graceful, loving, and sweet. She learned to dance and to sing and to play the piano, violin, and ßute. She learned to cook and to sew. She learned to comport herself as beÞts a lady, never raising her voice, never whining or demanding more than was given to her. Nor did she have any cause to do so, for I provided her with everything.

Everything but company. She and Edgar and I lived alone in my huge, shadowy mansion, with the great galleries where hang dusty portraits with living eyes, and the twisting back staircases that lead only to dust and darkness. Even the gardens are wind-haunted mazes. I made sure that Innocentia had no context for her life beyond what I provided her. So, even as she grew intelligent and cultured, she also grew completely dependent on me for all her human wants. And, through carefully capricious behavior, I planted a subtle fear of me in her unconscious mind.

I never raised my voice to her or struck her, but occasionally I would treat her with stern silence, and that small measure deprived her of all human warmth in her life. Of course a young girl cannot live without emotional sustenance. It is like depriving a prisoner of water. She had no way to understand this; she could only know that she needed my affection and approval, and though she did not understand what provoked my sudden coldnesses she would do everything in her power to please me, to charm me into becoming once more her loving papa. So I conditioned her to fear me, without losing any of her love.

She grew exquisitely beautiful. She had her mothers blonde ringlets and wide blue eyes, pert upturned nose and small pointed chin. But she inherited my mouth: a sensualists full, lush lips. There was something almost improper about that ripe mouth on that china-doll face, something oversexed and extremely arousing. Often she would keep her lips unconsciously parted as she studied, or run her little tongue over her lower lip as she practiced the piano. At such times I barely restrained myself from forcing my cock into those inviting lips, from seeing her small face invaded by a mans lust. But the time was not right.

I would often drug her dinners so that I might molest her at night as she slept. I would press my full mans body over her childs form, and kiss her savagely, twisting those ripe lips in mine and plunging my tongue into her unresisting little mouth. But I did not rape her mouth, or any other oriÞce. I monitored the growing of her body; I would strip her naked and gaze at her with a jewelers eye. She was after all mine, my daughter and slave, and I have always looked after my possessions carefully. I enjoyed seeing her sleeping angelically, in her pink frilled canopy bed, with her girlish nightgown and demure underpants wrenched obscenely away to display her childs limbs, round pink nipples, and the smooth cleft between her legs. I would stroke and lick at that cleft, feeling the resistance and tightness as I probed gently at the shallowest portions of her cunt. Sometimes I would arrange her in very obscene positions, legs hiked up about her head, as if she were attempting to seduce me in the very crudest way. Or sometimes I would leave her as she was, the very picture of childish beauty, and I would rub myself lewdly upon her until I degraded her Þnally by spurting my seed all over her virgin body. But then I would carefully clean her, reclothe her, tuck her in, and leave the bedchamber.

A girl has charms at every age, and I have raped young children. The sheer tightness of their cunts is enjoyable, as is the absolute helplessness that one sees in them. But I think the more complex pleasure comes when the girl is almost a womanÑwhen she has come to some emotional and intellectual understanding, but is insecure enough in her selfhood that she does not have the psychic resources to withstand attack and rape. It is in that case that the conquest has more meaning.

So I waited until Innocentia blossomed, grew willowy curves and sweet, round breasts that Þt perfectly into the curve of my palm. And then I began my assault.

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