Slow Death:. James Fielder
for it—made it almost too easy for me.
The bondage table and related equipment folds up in concealed compartments, so she didn’t have a clue as to what my real motives were. She didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, so I led her through it. She sat on a small cot, I used a rope to tie her ankles together, and then I used two separate ropes to tie her wrists down to her ankles—one rope on each wrist. I had a specific reason for tying her wrists that way, as I will explain later.
She cooperated completely until I brought out a tube-tied breathing gag and a roll of duct tape.
That cunt did not want to be gagged. But I got it in her mouth and put several wraps of duct tape around her head to hold it in place. To be double sure, I wrapped duct tape under her chin and over the top of her head several times so she couldn’t open her jaws. She still wasn’t too upset, just pissed off because I gagged her. I moved across the trailer, pulled the latches, and let the bondage table down. That bitch took one look at the table and the rack that had been concealed behind it holding whips, harnesses, dildos and other devices related to bondage [snicker].
She came unglued!
She really got upset. I sat down beside her and told her in no uncertain terms what I thought of a whore who gave me the clap. About the aggravation, the problems with the girlfriends, the doctor bills, trips to the hospital, and that there was going to be a hell of a lot more retribution than just spanking: payback’s a real motherfucker [snicker].
She just sat there trying to get loose and shaking her head back and forth—like No, no, no, but it was really Yes, yes, yes. I picked her up and sat her on the table, pushed her over on the middle of it, and positioned her on her back with her feet and arms pointed up. I held her that way and locked the chain around her neck that was attached to the table. That settled her down a little bit, but not much. A rope from the ceiling ring was tied to her ankles so she couldn’t kick. The wrist bindings on the upper corner of the table consist of an adjustable chain that is attached to the corner of the table with a handcuff on the other end. Releasing one rope at a time, I secured her arms up to the upper corners of the table. Her legs were folded back, spread well apart, and also chained to the upper corners. That little whore was bouncing her ass all over the table while I finished strapping her down. I buckled table straps across her upper chest, her rib cage and her belly. Two more table straps were buckled over each side and pulled tight, holding her ass firmly down on the table. Two more straps went across the back of each knee, holding her legs securely down. That position gets uncomfortable as hell for a woman after a while, but it works pretty neat for me.
She was absolutely and totally immobilized.
Couldn’t move any part of her body at all except her head. Legs folded back and spread, and hips turned up with the asshole and pussy fully exposed. With her knees strapped down to the table on each side of her chest, the legs didn’t interfere with access to her tits. They sagged off each side a little bit, but that was okay. God, they must have weighed five pounds apiece. The bitch was top-heavy. She had large fluffy cunt lips on each side of the slightly open pussy.
She was a hooker because she had a hundred-dollar-a-day drug habit; she had already told me that. That was why she agreed to let me spank her for a hundred bucks. She’d go get her drugs so she didn’t have to work the rest of the night. I didn’t tell her then that she wasn’t going to be working for quite a while. She also didn’t get the hundred-dollar bill. I’d already taken it out of her sock. Anyway, I picked up the whip and gave her about a dozen good whacks....
By that time, I was horny as hell. I climbed on the table and put just a little bit of Vaseline right around the head of my dick and stuck it in her asshole. Apparently, she didn’t get into that too much; it was nice and tight.
After that, I gave her a damn good ass-fucking.
CHAPTER 6
“I really don’t have any feelings for her—I really don’t miss her much at all.”
Cindy Hendy’s 22-year-old son, Shane 4/08/1999
Until Cindy Hendy moved to southern New Mexico in 1997, fifty-seven-year-old David Parker Ray had it all his own way. He never got into trouble with the law and whatever he was doing in the toy box was hidden from the outside world. The only people who knew what he was up to were his close-knit group of satanic followers. David Ray had covered his tracks and nobody except his victims, dead or alive, suspected him of any dirty deeds.
Enter thirty-seven-year-old Cynthia Lea Hendy.
Hendy grew up in Washington State and had three children when she fled the law in the spring of 1997 and moved with her then boyfriend, John Youngblood, to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. She was on the run from convictions for grand theft and drug possession; she had already done jail time and didn’t want to ever see the inside of a cell again.
By the end of 1998, in a pattern repeated over and over with the men in her life, she had Youngblood in front of a judge in the seventh judicial district court, accusing him of domestic violence. Her order of protection dated December 17, 1998, stated:
He was threatening me and my friends with bodily injury, possibly death. john has beaten me before (1 yr. ago), and he also has beaten a friend of mine to near death behind the town museum, in the alley (1 yr. ago). we were living together and he pushed me down on december 14th, 1998, at 1603 Corzine Drive and threatened my life. he also threatened Candy Fairs life on 12/14/98 at 1603 Corzine Drive. he tried head-butting me, too.
Four days later, on December 21, 1998, Hendy changed her mind and wrote the following note to District Judge Thomas Fitch:
District Judge,
please disregard these charges that i have made in my statements against john youngblood and myself. as they are not true. john youngblood has not threatened me or anyone else. and i am very sorry that i lied and put john and myself in trouble for no reason. i have been in counseling for manik depression and am on medications. and i tend to go off for no reason.
i do—and then i think later.
john has been working hard, and i have been working off and on. but laid off. we love each other. please forgive me for trying to make trouble when there was no trouble to begin with. this will never happen again. i am going to talk with my counseler on this. i have done this before and its going to stop. and i am getting help. I am very sorry that i have put everyone through alot of paper work, and your time. you certinly did not need this. and John did not need this kind of trouble either. please think this over. and reconsider and drop this so that we don’t have to go to court and waste everyones time, money and paperwork.
i drink too much alcohaul—that’s why i’m on
medications.
very, very sorry.
please believe me, Judge Fitch.
Cynthia L. Hendy
By the time Cindy Hendy flip-flopped on John Youngblood, she already had experienced a close sexual relationship with both Roy Yancy and David Ray. Right after she drifted down to T or C, she fell in with Yancy, but it wasn’t long until she threw over the younger man and moved in with David Ray. They were living together at the time Hendy got mixed up with Youngblood in seventh district court. A year earlier, Hendy had already gotten into trouble after fighting with Irwin Arrey, another boyfriend, and Ray had first met her when she was assigned to a work-release program at Elephant Butte Park back in 1997.
Ray might someday live to regret the day they first got to know each other.
Right after Hendy was arrested, a freelance reporter working for the Globe interviewed a man and a woman who knew Cindy well. The conversation took place in a dusty bar in the logging town of Everett, Washington. Neither one of them wanted to see their names in print, and after hearing what they had to say the reporter understood why.
The man had known Cindy Hendy for nearly thirty years. It was early in the afternoon of April 6, 1999, and right off the bat the skinny man in the black-and-blue plaid wool shirt told the