Curse of Evil Daddy
I am insane Evil Daddy and there is NOTHING I like better in the world
than to torture babies!
Bwha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Words cannot describe the delicious pleasure I get out of putting clothes
on infants. They scream. They roll over. They try to get
away. But I am relentless as I pull the nasty cotton straight
jackets over their heads, muffling their cries. Then I chortle as I cover
them back up, securing the diaper firmly with confining Velcro straps.
The worst part for them is that theyve just had it off, a brief taste
of what its like to be free. Sometimes Ill just let them think
theyre getting away, only to pick them up bodily and spin them back
around onto their backs like helpless turtles where I can inflict a few
Instant Tortures like blowing belly farts, administering sloppy kisses,
unleashing spider tickles, or summoning the hounds to lick messy faces.
Torture is a finely honed craft, an art to those who can appreciate it.
While a key element of torture is repetition, it takes variation to step
up from what will simply becoming numbing to the level of excruciating
frustration. For example, I always remind the little ones, I told
you you couldnt chew on that just as they are about to get that
first satisfying bite in. However, I try to vary how I take the
object of desire away. Sometimes Ill ruthlessly snatch it out of
their hands to start them screaming. Other times Ill pull it hard
enough that they can still hold on but just cant get it into their
mouth. But most often I put them on the edge of a shelf thats
tantalizingly only a few inches out of reach. Thats a good one,
it is, as the children struggle for whole minutes at a time seeing if
somehow theres a way to get hold of that object and put it back in
One of the finest classes of tortures revolves around eating. To see
their little eyes watching all the food that goes into my mouth that
doesnt go into theirs just makes me swell with anticipation. I
dole out pieces, mere tastes. And so often they dont want me to
put it in their mouth but onto the tray so they can feed themselves.
I laugh as most of the food falls to the floor for my hounds to consume.
The result is that they unwittingly torture themselves even better than I
One of the best and time-proven tortures is putting a little one into the
Iron Maiden for children, the car seat. Theres hardly room to
throw just the beginnings of a tantrum. I personally find the final
click of the seat belt to be fulfillment itself. The cherry on top
is watching those tiny fingers, which are strong enough to rip the nose
off my face if I gave them the chance, probe every crevice of the release
mechanism but without success.
Ah, but many of these tortures are simply over too quickly to be truly
satisfying. For extended torture pleasure my favorite technique is
the elaborate Putting to Bed torture. It has the most buildup, as
the little ones can sense the coming of bedtime as the sun sets and the
adults slow down. They get frantic, the babies, pulling out all the
stops on their energy, anything to get the adults motivated to start
moving again. They can almost hear the impending doom like a church
bell calling ghostly guests to a funeral dinner. The first course is
the changing of the diaper and getting into a sleeper. This dressing
session is the highlight of the day for me because the babies know when
the sleeper comes out that its all over. Then its into the crib as
the main dish, tucked in tightly so that the blankets pin them to the bed
and the barred cell door slammed up to lock them in. Ive installed
sound-blocking panels in the dungeon nursery to keep the neighbors from
hearing the desperate screams of the little ones; there is no chance that
anyone will hear them and come to their rescue. Like a perfect side
dish I turn on the annoying chirping cricket clock in the spirit of the
Chinese Water Torture. For dessert, I treasure each tear that forms
as the children give in to the Sandmans despair.
Finally, like a parting apéritif, I dim the lights, which have charged
the glow-in-the-dark sheep on the wall, a cruel reminder to helpless
children that, at this very moment in time, there are toys in the world
that are not being played with.