Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Hungry Guy
Title: HUNGRY FOR DAWN 3
Summary: Poor Dawn :-(
Keywords: M/F Mdom Fsub Mpov rom wife cheat breath ws scat copr tort sad
viol humil snuff caution CAUTION!
Language: english

   HUNGRY FOR DAWN 3 By Hungry Guy

   Between the wine and the NyQuil, Guy slept soundly all through the night
despite Dawn's fierce and constant struggling.  He awoke once or twice to
pee down her throat, but besides those fleeting moments of wakefulness, his
sleep was deep and uninterrupted.

   He finally awoke late the next morning as Dawn lay still underneath him.
Feeling horny, he was about to pound her face when he smelled an odor.

   Examining her crotch, her diaper was so full of shit that it was oozing
out and dribbling down the rear of the mattress and pooling under the
headboard.  He rolled off her, fighting the urge to hurl at the stench.

   Flipping the blankets back, he scolded her, "Couldn't you wait until
morning, bitch?"

   Dawn remained motionless and didn't answer.

   "Dawn?  Answer me, Dawn!"

   Grabbing her face he opened her eyelids.  Her eyes were rolled up.

   "Dawn!  You're scaring me."

   Noticing her in the light, her skin was an odd shade of purplish gray.
When he leaned close to her face, he could tell she wasn't breathing.  And
when he pressed an ear to her chest, he heard silence.

   Dawn was dead.

   He jumped on her and began to administer CPR.

   "Dawn!" he cried.  "Don't be dead!  Please!  Don't be dead!"

   After a half hour of breathing and pumping her, there was still no
reaction.  How long had she been dead underneath him?  Maybe for hours.

   He sat there on the side of the bed and wailed.  Tears poured down his
face.

   "I shouldn't have mixed so many different tortures together all at
once," he sobbed.

   He sat for a long time, pondering what to do.

   Then he removed the skewers and all the pins and needles from her.  He
pulled the threads out from her pussy lips and removed the electric shock
dildo, and straightened her arms and legs.

   Dawn deserved a decent funeral, but he could hardly deliver her body to
an undertaker without all sorts of complications.

   And the winter ground in his back yard was too frozen to bury her with
the rest of his pets.

   A few days later, he had spent the night in a roadside motel up in rural
Maine.  The frigid weather kept her body frozen solid in a large rubber
storage bin in the trunk of his car.



   A drive through rural back roads found a deserted spot up in the
Appalachian Mountains miles from the nearest house where he left her naked
body.  Having collected a handful of Canadian coins as change during his
road trip, he tossed the coins away as he returned to his car, not wanting
anything in his possession that might serve as evidence that he was close
to the Canadian border.

   ***

   Detective John Simpson scanned the search report.  No fingerprints
matched on either the State or National databases, no match on any missing
persons database, a complete Jane Doe.

   Detective John Simpson looked up as Detective Waterson wandered by. 
"Any luck on your Jane Doe?" asked Waterson.

   "Nope," said Simpson.  "No fingerprint match on the state or national
databases.  No match on any missing persons database.  Nothing."

   Waterson glanced at the photo of the corpse on Simpson's desk.  "Who
would snuff a young pretty piece of ass like that?"

   Detective Simpson's phone rang just then.  "Simpson," he said as he
picked it up.

   "John," said a woman's voice.  "This is Sue Richardson with the Franklin
County coroner's office.  We'll be emailing the autopsy report for your
Jane Doe to you in a bit.  Want a quick recap?"

   "Yeah.  Shoot."

   "Not pretty," said Richardson.  "The girl was tortured."

   "I guessed that from all the puncture wounds in her body."

   "That's not the end if it," said Richardson.  "Electrical burns inside
her vagina.  And some of those puncture wounds go all the way through."

   "Holy shit!"

   "Yeah, she was skewered alive, John."

   "Ouch!"

   "It gets worse."

   "Tell me about it."

   "Stomach contents.  Nine point two ounces of fecal matter.  Partially
digested.  260 ml of urine.  Bits of fingernail clippings, hair, mucous,
and other bodily detritus."

   "Her own?"

   "Human.  Probably male.  Jeez, John.  Some guy used this woman's mouth
as a toilet and her stomach as a sewage tank--while she was alive and being
tortured."

   "My God!" gasped Simpson.  "So okay.  Bottom line?  Cause of death?"

   "That's a problem," said Richardson.  "None of the traumas she suffered
were lethal in and of themselves, painful though they may be."

   "Then how?"

   "John," said Richardson.  "I've seen cases like this in torture victims
in places like Iran and Iraq.  The pain is just so unbearable that the
victim decides he'd rather be dead than endure another moment.  The
subconscious mind just gives up and the body dies.  Simple as that."

   "You mean she died because she willed herself to die, not from what was
done to her?"

   "Pretty much, yeah."

   "Hell, Sue.  If there's no specific cause of death, this case'll be a
bitch to prosecute."

   "I know, John.  Sorry about that.  But you need to catch the bastard who
did this to this poor girl."

   "Yeah," said Simpson.  "Thanks, Sue."

   A short time later, Simpson's supervisor called him into his office.

   "Yes Lieutenant?" said Simpson as he entered his supervisor's office.

   "That Jane Doe you're on," said the Lieutenant.

   "Sir?"

   "I've been on the phone with my counterpart in the RCMP up in Canada. 
They've had a number of missing persons over the last few weeks.  Mostly
young woman."

   "You think she's Canadian, sir?"

   "Didn't you find a handful of Canadian coins near the body?"

   "Yes sir.  They're in evidence, but the prints on them came up negative.
I didn't think they'd lead us anywhere useful."

   "Well, we're shipping the body and the evidence to Canada.  It's not our
problem any more.  I want you to work with Jenkins on that string of
arsons."

   "Yes sir," said Simpson, and turned to leave.

   * END *