Shredder Part 1 by PJ Wolfwalker

Eddie heard Christine’s screams fill the basement like a chorus of banshees over the howling roar of the big chainsaw, her wild-eyed, terror-driven fear through the blue haze of smoke that poured from the saw. The chain sprayed oil on her bare abdomen, between her bare breasts, up her neck, into her open, screaming mouth and eyes. Her terror was palpable, alive; it coursed through Eddie like a heroin rush.

Swinging away from her so suddenly the tip of the whirring chain grazed her shoulder as she lunged up and away in a futile effort to break free from the police-issue handcuffs he’d used to manacle her to the overhead pipe. She shrieked from the sudden pain as he spun to face Sandy, Christine’s best friend, who was hung from a beam opposite her, just five feet away.

Sandy’s head hung dejectedly, terrorized for too long to have spirit to fight as Christine did, looking at him with eyes wide with fear, body rigid with fright as he passed the tip of the saw down slowly before her eyes, chain oil spraying her face, only an inch from the whirling cutting edges, gagging on the smoke that belched from the saw toward her.

She froze as he slowly moved the bar of the saw down her body, oil spattering her neck, the cleavage between her full breasts; down her belly that suddenly turned itself to water as she pissed herself, shitting involuntarily as the breeze from the big logger’s saw’s oil splash moved below her navel.

Eddie knelt on the floor in front of her. She could feel the hot oil spray on her parted labia, which Eddie had shaved bare the day before; when she’d come with Christine to get her things from his house after she’d left him and told him to get lost. It was when she picked up several small boxes and turned to head toward the stairs Eddie hit her from behind with something heavy, knocking her down the stairs, unconscious. As Christine ran up from the basement to see what the crash was, he was behind the door waiting, and with a hard shove, knocked her backward down the stairs to the cold concrete of the basement.
When she came to hours later, she was naked, tied to Eddie’s bed. She didn’t require a doctor to tell her she’d been raped repeatedly, from the raw sensation in her crotch.
She’d been out about five hours and it was getting dark outside, though no one knew where to look for her and Sandy. She was the one who’d convinced Sandy to get out of the three year relationship and come share her new apartment… She hadn’t even opened all her things yet, her phone wasn’t getting hooked up ‘til next week, her mail wasn’t redirected.
Sandy had lived with Eddie in a big old house formerly belonging to his uncle. It was set way back from the road, a mile outside the town limits, with no neighbors for half that distance. Located right on the county line, Eddie paid a little land tax to both counties, each assuming the other collected for the house and barn. He had electricity from a metered pole near the road, phone wires that ran the length of the long drive-way. For all the world might notice the house, Eddie mightn’t exist at all.
The rooms at the front were barred up long ago, he used a few rooms on the main floor, a couple on the second and the basement. Someone would have to be looking for her big green Ford wagon to notice it sitting in the shadow of the house.

It wasn’t ‘til Eddie got bored raping her, shaved her crotch, raped her again, and dragged her to the basement she knew Sandy was still alive. As she watched now, Eddie knelt between Sandy’s wide-spread thighs and so rapidly she couldn’t grasp the reality for a moment, saw him brush the saw’s cutter bar between the cheeks of Sandy’s butt She heard her friend’s rising cry of terror an instant before he tilted the saw, pointing the tip of the cutter bar upward, oil splattering her friend’s shaved, raw mons.
With a deliberate, solid thrust, Eddie rammed the tip of the saw upward between Sandy’s labia, and her shattered scream split the smoky air in the basement as it tore flesh, muscle and bone from her crotch, as he pushed it into her. The machine clawed it’s way inward, throwing back shredded fragments of Sandy’s vagina, sinew, ligament, soft mucous membrane, bone chips in a shower of bloody gore and the viscera from her internal organs as the saw cut deep inside her abdominal cavity.
The saw’s sound deepened as it tore it’s way deeper inside her friend, inch by inch. Sandy’s head was thrown back, mouth open, her scream too intense to hear. The first several inches of the cutter penetrated, violating Sandy. It had torn her vagina and fallopian tubes out, and shredded her uterus to minced meat. As Eddie guided the big saw in, it tore into intestines, bladder, bowel, spat chunks of her pelvic bone it bit off out through the grotesque, large gash-opening between Sandy’s legs onto the floor, over Eddie’s jeans, hands, arms and saw – the two-foot long cutter bar was half-way in.
Sandy’s head rolled back as she went into shock, passing out as the saw cut through internal organs, severed her intestines in a shower of shit, gastric acid and semi-digested food, plunging through her stomach wall, into her upper abdomen, tearing her diaphragm, puncturing a lung as the body of the saw brought up against Sandy’s spread thighs. Blood streamed out with the fragments of her friend’s insides as the saw nicked or cut into veins and arteries.
Blood frothed from Sandy’s mouth. Her eyes opened wide one last time, glazed and wild, before her head fell forward. She died from shock, blood loss from a heart stilled as her femoral artery was cut by the saw and her pumping blood sprayed over Eddie, Christine and the whole room, which was heavily clouded with the smoke of the saw.
Christine wasn’t sure if it was the choking smoke or spattering from head to foot with bits of Sandy that made her stomach roll as she vomited violently, most of it splashing on Eddie’s back and the floor at his feet. As he gave the saw one final shove up into his ex-girlfriend, it stalled, her viscera tangled in it’s workings and choking the saw, causing it to stall… Eddie stood up, leaving the saw jammed in her body like macabre pop art. As he stood, he became aware of the puke down Christine’s abdomen, the floor, his jacket.

“Didn’t like the show?” he taunted her, “it’s okay, I’d never do that to you Chris. Come on, let’s clean you up, have some dinner before we go to bed and I fuck your brains out again.” Christine wanted to say something, but her throat was closed and burning from the smoke, acid bile, being sick and fear of what awaited her.
Eddie dragged her legs from the manacles, fastening them together so she couldn’t run, then undid the handcuffs, letting her arms down, shackling them behind her instead. He held her arm, steering her wobbly legs upstairs, to the bathroom. “I could really go for you right now if you didn’t smell like barf!” he said, “ bend over the side of the tub…” He pushed her forward so she was holding the far side of the tub with slippery hands. “Well, it’s a shame to waste that chain oil all over your cunt Chris, maybe I will bang you now.”
He dropped his jeans and plunged into her already rape-ravaged vagina, lubricated by chainsaw oil. He pounded her for a couple of minutes and pulled out, dragged his stinking jacket off, threw it in the corner, got something Christine couldn’t see from the cabinet on the wall and came back. He was moving, doing something behind her, though she didn’t have any idea what ‘til he thumped the jar of Vaseline down on the side of the tub just before he grasped her hips, pressing his erection to her virgin anus, then suddenly, violently ramming himself into her butt.
It wasn’t that he was larger than average, but the fact that Christine had never in her twenty-five years been fucked in the ass. Now she screamed, a drawn-out howl of pain as Eddie pounded her bum repeatedly, the gooey petroleum jelly giving her neither relief or lessening the burning pain as he buggered her viciously. After what felt like an hour he grunted and she felt him press hard as he came in her butt. She’d cried as quietly as possible while he raped her.

Now he pulled her upright and turned the bathtub taps ‘til the water poured into the tub. Still manacled, he sat her in the old tub as the water rose, shampooing her hair clean of blood, flesh and dirt, rinsed it and threw some bubble bath in the water ‘til it reached the level where it floated her breasts in the suds. He turned off the water, washed her face and breasts, pouring warm water on her shoulders and upper back, reached underwater to grope her crotch, finally leaving her in the tub to finish washing herself, her left hand cuffed to the chain that joined the shackles binding her feet.
“I’ll go fix something to eat,” he said, then stopped, “need to rinse your mouth?” She nodded. He ran water from the sink and held it to her lips, “gargle it, rinse and spit it on that old towel,” he commanded, and she did, the second sip got some moisture to her throat, the final one cleared her so she could scarcely taste the sourness. “Don’t even try to get up, let alone get away,” he cautioned. “I don’t like guns, but I’ll shoot you if I have to.”
He disappeared downstairs and she was left to clean herself. She felt dirty and violated, used and tainted; she was sure the feeling would never go away. She heard the noise of the saw in the basement, momentarily tried to get out of the tub, slipped and almost drowned herself. As the waster was getting cold, Eddie returned. Looking at the pool of water, he commented, “I told you not to try and climb out. What’s wrong, need to crap?” She nodded. He lifted her from the water and sat her on the toilet until she peed, expelling Vaseline and come from her bloody-raw anus. He pulled her up, wiped her rear and flushed.
Re-cuffing her conventionally, he led her downstairs after he dried her off. She was still naked and feeling the chill in the old house. In the small dining room by the kitchen he sat her at the table. He went in the kitchen and returned with juice, poured some for himself in a glass and hers in a tin cup which she held between her hands and drank deeply. “Dinner will be ready in a minute,” he said flatly. “Something I have to ask… it was you who got the idea of leaving me in her head wasn’t it? Christine hesitated as her mind raced. Eddie repeated the question louder. Christine nodded slowly, looking down. “Now I don’t have her anymore, so you’re going to take her place… oh not every way, not going out to work earning money for us, not driving me places, or doing things, going on dates, dancing, out for dinner, but you’ll be here.
“Here to suck, fuck, or keep me warm at night, to put wood on the fire in winter, sweep the floor and serve me. You’ll take her place that way. You look better anyway, you’re a better fuck, so you’d better suck cock good or I’ll knock your damn teeth out!”
He went to the kitchen, returning with two plates, instant mashed potatoes, tinned vegetables and fried meat, cut into bite-sized pieces and some gravy and a jug of water. “Gravy?” She nodded yes. He poured it on sparingly and gave her water in her cup.
When she’d eaten, he removed the dishes, washed them in the sink, the door to the kitchen left open. When he’d cleaned up, he took her arm, guided her to the hallway and switched off the light. Leading her upstairs to his room he cuffed her to the bedpost by one hand and one foot, parted her thighs with his hands before he knelt and went down on her. In spite of herself, her inner resistance wasn’t powerful enough to overcome her own body’s responses and she came, crying out, bucking and twitching. He moved up, fucked her ‘til she climaxed again and he came in warm torrents she felt inside her.