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We both know what he has to do but don’t talk about it. He was gone for several days but is back now with more supplies and a camel. One of the things he brought was a saw and a bottle of whiskey. I scream and fight when I see them but he hits me and knocks me unconscious. I awaken to the white-hot pain in my thigh. Andy is crying, blood is on his huge, shaky hands and he is trying to get me to accept the whiskey. As soon as I realize this, I down half the bottle and choke on it from convulsing. The pain is incredible. I look down and find that he hasn’t finished. The bone is bare and the sand is soaked with blood. He hits me again, crying louder than me and grabbing the saw up again. He has to finish the job. I lie awake during the night, looking up at constellations which would eventually pass over my home in America. Andy is asleep. I lean over and kiss him, seeing that he is crying in his sleep. I’d give anything to stop him from crying. My entire leg is numb. I flop back onto. I knew this. And I didn't consider myself a violent person. But in my mind, and here on this island, at this very exclusive club, it was all just a fantasy. This wasn't a back alley, push a girl to the ground at knife point, and dry fuck her rape. This was a girl strapped to a crazy Nazi orgasm machine rape. Or a girl under the influence of a magical drug rape. Could it even be considered rape when the girls always said yes, always agreed to whatever you asked of them? I tried to convince myself. The night I spent with Stacey ... she had a great time. There's no way all those orgasms were faked, not with all the squirting! Was that rape? No, it was all just Fantasy Island. But here ... now ... on this beach ... with these two young girls, not under the influence of the Org-X drug ... the line between reality and fantasy seemed blurred.As the pain subsided my mind returned to Abbey and JJ. My conscience may have been trying to convince me otherwise, but in the end my dick won the.
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