Child abuse is a sublime pleasure. All the great extremes, genital torture, forced unlubricated rape, butchering; all these pleasures and more reach their pinnacle when the victim is a small child. The orifices are extremely tight and usually virgin, an absolute joy to mangle, rip and violate. The pained screams ring more shrill, more impassioned, unhampered from years of growing up fat and jaded. Virgin territory brings the fresh cries and intense reactions of crushed and forever retarded innocence. There is an added pleasure in child torture, a pleasure that lives on even after the child lay dead and rotting. Parents. The pain of the parents allows the libertine to forever enjoy his crimes. Little kidlings are precious to parents, their lives become meaningful and important because of the little bundle of love that bounces on their knees. Their grief and sense of loss is immense when their tiny gifts from god are destroyed, Their entire lives crumble and break. An excruciating pain that becomes omnipotent as the child’s memory is rendered burdensome due to the brutality and masterful eloquence of the dominant.