Victim POV 5–The Unkindest Cut

Y’know, all I really want tonight is to get laid. I want some dick, and that’s it. Some hot, hard stud shoving his tool up my ass until I cum. Ya wouldn’t think it’d be that hard to find; it’s not as if I ain’t pretty decent-looking myself.

There’s a couple of leather bars in town, places to find a good eager top, but I only go to the one that’s next to the dyke club. It usually suffices—and the other one, out by the highway, has some scary characters. I usually only troll for cock in there if I’m already drunk or high.

Tonight, looks like I’m gonna hafta get drunk or high.

It’s too close to Halloween. Everyone wants to dress up—fine, but that doesn’t excuse the incestuous little drag show my favorite hookup joint is putting on. Everyone in the audience seems to be a performer as well.

No dude in drag is fucking me. I want a real man. Shit, I better drink up. This means I gotta head out to The Underpass. That’s the name pf the place.

On the way, I fire up the jay I keep in the car. Getting’ myself nice and loose, relaxed, ready to find a rough stranger and let him plow my hole. It works; I feel myself growing calmer (and harder) during the drive.

The gravel lot is full. Lotta people here, wonder what’s goin’ on? Looks like a poster by the door, better check it out.

The walk across the parking lot takes some effort. Damn, didn’t realize I’m this fucked up. I can do stupid things in this state—better be careful. Now what’s this thing say? Fuck, my eyes are blurry…costumes? Offuckingcourse. What’s it—an 80’s contest. Jesus. Even better. Goddam it, someone at least better look hot in there.

Inside is almost like the center of explosion. It’s pitch-black but for the flashing strobes. The air is full of smoke and the music is deafening to the point of incomprehensibility. I guess that’s an 80’s song but I’m damned if I know which.

I’ll admit, some of the guys can pull off the look. Skin-tight parachute pants don’t look any less sexy around a pair of thick, muscular legs, despite being unfashionable. I could have done without the Members Only jackets or the obnoxiously-patterned shirts—and I desperately hope that dude with the Flock of Seagulls haircut is wearing a wig—but tight jeans with Reebok hightops were popular and still look good.

I get another drink. I was already way too drunk and stoned to drive before I got here, but fuck it. Ain’t nothing gonna happen; nothing ever does. I down the drink and order another, rolling my eyes at the bartender’s hesitancy. He shrugs and fills my glass. I ain’t the drunkest one here, cocksucker; go sneer at someone else. See how much I tip ya, bitch. I forget him and turn back to the dance floor.

And that’s when I see him.

He’s on the other side of the room and very difficult to make out at first, largely because he’s all in black expect his boots. I have to put together a composite image from quick mental snapshots grabbed with each flash of the strobe lights. He helps by stepping forward—holy fuck, I think he’s staring straight at me.

He’s tall, over six feet. He’s also clearly well-built; his clothes strain against bulging muscles. But he’s not a bodybuilder, he’s just really fit.

He has sandy brown hair, full and silky, nearly shoulder-length in back but shorter at the front and sides—almost, but not quite, a mullet. He’s wearing a stretched-out black t-shirt with print stenciled across the front in white. The shirt is so tight it distorts the letters slightly; it must be at least two sizes too small but it shows off his incredible chest beautifully.

I have to squint and put some effort into reading the words that rise and fall with the contours of his pecs. After several flashes of the light, I get it: “If you love something, let it go. If it doesn’t come back, hunt it down and kill it.”

Now, why does that make me hard?

My eyes slip lower—holy shit. Tight black leather jeans highlight his massive thighs; there’s a shiny gloss on the bulge in his crotch that’s so tight I can see the shape of the head of his dick from across the room. My eyes flow down from the punk metal weave belt, sliding down the black leather that caresses his legs like a second skin down to his knees, where I spy another blast from the past—knee-high moccasin boots

They’re brown suede with a fringe hanging a couple of inches below the knee. Rawhide strips cross repeatedly in front, serving as laces.

At first, his head is down. His shaggy brown hair falls over his eyes; I can’t see his face. Suddenly he looks up. His huge dark eyes look directly into mine as a grin washes over his handsome, chiseled face, framed by a goatee slightly darker than his sandy brown hair.

I hop off my bar stool—goddammit, lost my balance. Smooth move, asswipe, now he’s never—

Oh, wait, he’s coming over. Looks like he’s grinning, like he’s pleased. Maybe he likes doin’ guys who are fucked up. Well, good, cause I sure the fuck am.

He’s here. Still not on my feet yet, how fucking embarrassing—oh, he’s helping me. Wow, he’s even stronger than he looks. And he smells like—

He smells like mansex. I want him. I don’t give a shit what he wants to do to me as long as I get his load inside me.

A motel? Sure, there’s a cheap place on the other side of the highway. Yeah, we can take your car if you’ll bring me back. Ooh, that’s an evil grin; I like it. You’re gonna fuck me good, right?

He gives me that grin again and my knees go all rubbery. The parking lot gravel slips under my feet—he grabs my arm to steady me, giving a low bass chuckle. A deep rumble, almost a purr of pleasure. Guess he likes drunk dudes after all.

I’m sitting down—what kinda car is this? I didn’t notice. No, not a car, it’s a pickup. There’s tools in the back. Wonder what this stud does for a job.

I ask him. He smiles slowly. “I work with my hands,” he replies, his voice a deep rumble. I reach over and start sliding my hands over that smooth black leather, my fingers flowing almost frictionlessly across his bulging thigh. He grabs my arm and throws it off—is that contempt in his face? It’s getting a little dark–

We’re here already? Fuck, I musta passed out. Yeah, it’s this shitty Motel 6 on the highway. He’s shoving me and handing me a $20. What? Ok, I’ll go get the room. Fuck, it’s a long way down from this truck. And another gravel lot; great. My ropers have smooth soles; I’m sliding around like I’m walking on lube…

The fuckwad druggie in the office recoils from my breath. Yeah, I’m drunk, bitch. You seen worse. Gimme the fuckin’ key and fuck off.

He said to go right to the room, so I do. Third from the last on the far side. Now where’d he park? Can’t see a truck here at all—oh, there he is. Coming around the corner now. Fuck, look at how he strides, those muscles working like a panther’s.

Over here, man. Room 126. I unlock the door and he’s on me right away. I can feel his hard body pressed against me as he pushes me into the darkened room and I fall onto the bed.

He slams the door behind him and turns on the overhead light. I’ve been here many times before, I don’t need to see the cheap furniture, veneer peeling and stained with cigarette and crack pipe burns. I know the rough comforter, the hard, unforgiving mattress. My attention is on my handsome stud. He looks down on me, his hard face framed with his long brown hair. His eyes are sunk into pools of shadow; I can only see the expression on his face…

What is that? Contempt? Hatred? Why is he looking at me like that?

Suddenly, he reaches down and grabs his shirt near his waist. With a swift, fluid motion, he jerks it up over his head, instantly revealing his buff torso and pumped biceps. “Down on your knees, bitch, and start sucking,” he snarls as his hand slips down and unzips the gleaming mound of black leather in his crotch.

As he commands, I drop to my knees, the foot of the bed at my back. I want that cock. I want to feel that enormous spear-shaped head in my mouth, the veins wrapped around the long shaft rubbing over my tongue…

Holy fuck, dude, lemme take a breath—

My throat is plugged with a thick tube of flesh as strong hands grip the back of my head like a bear trap, clamping down on my skull and forcing it forward inexorably as his spongy mushroom tip slides further into my esophagus.

I can still breathe—just barely, through my nose. As my head is forced into his groin, I can smell the warm musky scent of his leather jeans. His hairy balls slap and scratch my chin. He keeps slipping himself in—I can’t break free; my only choice is to wrap my hands around his thick leather-wrapped thighs and brace myself. Just as I start to gag, he pulls back and I take a deep breath. I know what’s coming.

“Worthless fuckin’ slut,” I hear him growl, “open your fuckin’ jaw and take my dick. Just lean back and open up that throat. Gag on my cock, faggot, choke on it!”

His grip tightens, his fingers tangled painfully in my hair—fuck, I can’t move my head, he’s serious about this, he’s gonna—

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe oh fuck his dick is like a plunger down my throat there’s suction when he pulls back I’m gonna puke—

Sparkles in my vision what the fuck am I passing out what the

Air air he’s out I can breathe

My throat hurts fuck he reamed it out fuckin’ roto-rooted my goddam windpipe jesus I wanted cock but I didn’t want it to hurt like this

But he grabs me by my shirt and pulls me up. Holy shit, he’s strong; I knew he was built, but I didn’t know he was this strong. Oh fuck—if he really wants to hurt me, I can’t stop him. I’m helpless; he’s too much for me.

I can only submit and pray he doesn’t hurt me too bad. Oh fucking please, let this alpha dominance stuff be an act. I’m so fucked if it’s not. Christ, I’ve never been so scared—

But I’m confused. He’s thrown me flat on my back on the bed, knocking the wind out of me. Suddenly he’s on me, the scent of sweat and new leather washing over me as he grabs my waistband and yanks down, pulling my jeans to my knees.

Of course I’m commando underneath. I wanted to get fucked tonight—oh my god, I’m so fucked tonight…

He’s on top of me, lying on me full length, one hand clenched in my hair, pulling my head back, the other gently stroking my cheek. There’s something wrong with me. Yeah I’m drunk and still fuckin’ high, but it’s like he’s got me hypnotized—there’s a gleam in his huge dark eyes, a gleam of lust and rage in the face of a saint—

I’ll do what he wants. I want him bad enough to do what he wants. I don’t care what it is. He sneers and spits in my face as his caressing hand tightens around my throat and I love him for it.

“Ya want my tool, cunt? Ya want my meat inside ya? I’m gonna cut those fuckin’ skinny whore jeans off your ass and stick my thick shaft up your fuckhole, you cheap slut, and you’re gonna squeal with joy like the worthless faggot cumpig you are.”

His left hand still grasping my hair painfully, he slips his right hand down to his boot. His leather jeans are too tight to be hiding anything; whatever he’s got must be in his boot—

Oh my fucking god it’s a knife…

What the fuck are you doin’, dude? What is—

And I’m flat on my back with the knife sawing through the crotch of my jeans, spreading my legs until each is enclosed in a separate denim wrapping—

Jesus fucking Christ he’s pulling my legs apart like he’s pulling a fucking wishbone what the fuck is he shoving in my ass it feels like a fireplug oh shit he’s splitting me apart like an overripe melon—

Breathe. Just breathe. Take his dick and breathe and maybe I’ll get through this. Oh fuck, please let me get through this.

He’s on me and in me, grunting and rutting like an animal. I’m just a hole to him. Good. Not worth killing a hole…

But I can’t stop moaning and squealing; it hurts too bad. Oh shit, it feels like he’s tearing me open dude enough I can’t take this it hurt too much STOP IT I’M GONNA SCREAM STOP—

There’s a bright explosion of pain what the fuck he’s whispering the knife he’s holding it up what’s he saying…

“Ya like me in ya, you useless faggot whore? I got something else to stick in ya, too. Something long and hard. You think you’re hurting now? You ain’t start hurtin’ yet, cocksucker. Welcome to hell, you fuckin’ homo cunt!”

Oh my god the knife. It’s all I can see; he holds it in front of my eyes. I can see every detail—

That gleam on the edge; the tiny glint at the tip of the blade—it’s sharp. Those parts will be deep inside me before I know he’s stuck me. Oh fuck that’s gonna hurt so bad—but that’s not the part that terrifies me; it’s the serrations that march back towards the hilt.

They’re not meant for slicing; they’re meant for ripping. Wherever this dude sticks that knife, he’s gonna shred me to pieces.

No no nononono—

A blur of frantic motion, the electric taste of panic in my mouth you won’t not happening I’m not dying here get off me you fucking psycho your arm drawing back gotta keep it away gotta keep the knife away no no no—

OHMYGOD THE ICYTHRUST—

It’s in me cold hard steel in me its cold its so cold right in my guts my abdomen jesus christ the hilt is standing straight up from my abdomen—

OH FUCK DUDE DON’T TWIST IT YOU’RE SLICING ME LIKE FUCKING DELI MEAT OH DEAR GOD NO AAGGHH—

It’s not me seeing the blade brutally jerked outta my belly. It’s not my eyes focusing on the shreds of my own guts caught in the knife’s serrations as it rises above the dude’s head, his shaggy mane of hair catching the light behind him for a moment. He’s a silhouette with a golden halo of hair, holding aloft a vicious, dripping blade…

It means nothing. The pain is all. Fuck, there’s a hole in me. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna—

NO NO OH FUCK NO I DON’T WANNA DIE OH DEAR FUCKING GOD NO—

He lies on me again; I can feel his ripped abs sliding over my poor ripped belly on a film of blood. His thrusting legs shove the sliced denim legs of my jeans down to my boots; I’m in fucking agony but I feel his slick leather jeans pumping against my thighs and the rough buckskin of his boots scraping my calves…

His face fills my vision; his beautiful goateed face with the great dark eyes and the long lashes as he sneers and spits and then suddenly leans forward and kisses me, his tongue thrusting deeply and brutally into my mouth and down my throat, the swollen head of his cock stabbing at my rectum…

I’m shivering in pain oh god it hurts so bad his huge cock in my ass the hole in my guts he’s on me and in me and filling me in every fucking way possible I’m his he’s making me his—

Oh fuck the pain my ass my guts my cock what the fuck my cock is so hard it hurts I don’t understand—

He’s pulling up off me. There’s a flash from his shoulder; is that—

NO FUCKING GOD NO MY CHEST IT’S IN MY LUNG HOLY FUCK YOUR DICK IN MY ASS YOUR BLADE IN MY CHEST FUCK NO—

Time pauses for a moment. There’s an island of clarity in a sea of pain as I see what’s happening. There’s a small voice somewhere squealing like a stuck pig. It might be me; I can tell. I can’t breathe…

I CAN’T BREATHE EACH BREATH IS FUCKING LIGHTINING PAIN OH SHIT GET THAT SHANK OUTTA MY LUNG STOP TWISTING STOP CUTTING ME UP FLEASE FUCKING GOD STOP—

The knife rips up out of my chest, a spatter of blood flying upward from the blade as I gasp in icy agony; an excruciating numbness spreading across my chest as my lung collapses—that’s gotta be what’s happening breathe man ya gotta keep breathing shit it hurts—

OH FUCKING SHIT IT HURTS TO BREATHE I CAN HEAR AIR BUBBLING OUT OF MY CHEST OH FUCK MY COCK IS SWOLLEN AND DRIPPING WHAT THE FUCK WHY AM I HARD HE’S TALKING WHAT IS HE SAYING—

“Ain’t no one gonna miss ya, you fucking queer cunt, you fucking cocksucking faggot whore. I’m gonna fuck ya and off ya and no one’s gonna give shit. Just another homo slut, not like a real human’s involved. They don’t care who wastes animals; ain’t no one gonna care who carves you up, you faggot piece a’shit!”

He’s right oh dear god he’s right I’m his in his power he can do what he wants this beautiful stud I still want you I know I’m dying I still want you—

My hand flail and scratch at his bulging muscles; it’s like beating against steel.

Fading but still here every second a struggle to live I can still feel him sweaty muscled flanks pumping against my thighs slick leather and rough buckskin along my calves a thick swollen shaft of hot meat reaming my poor inflamed rectum oh fuck it wasn’t supposed to end like this I wasn’t supposed to get fucked to death I just wanted dick tonight, not death I  swear—

“I’m close, you homo cunt,” he snaps, his beautiful goateed face full of anger and lust and hatred, a killing gleam in his eye. “I’m gonna spunk in your fuckhole, faggot, but I’m gonna make sure no one ever knows I fucked and seeded a fuckin’ piece a’shit fag. I’m gonna pump your homo cunt fulla sperm, bitch, and it’s gonna be the last load you’re gonna get in your useless queer-ass life, so ya better enjoy it, slut!”

Gah, his hand over my face, brutally jerking my jaw up and back what the fuck is happening now—

OH SWEET FUCKING JESUS HE’S CUTTING MY THROAT OH GOD THE FUCKING PAIN THE BLOOD I TASTE THE BLOOD NO NO NO SCREAMING NO ONE CAN HEAR IT’S JUST GURLGING OH FUCK DROWNING ON MY OWN BLOOD—

FUCKING ME HE’S FUCKING ME HARDER OH GOD THE PAIN MY ASS MY THROAT MY COCK FUCK I’M HARD I’M DYING I’M HARD HOW WHY MY DICK IS SO FUCKING HARD—

MY ASS IS SPLITTING MY THROAT OH FUCK IT’S OPEN I’M SUCKING AIR OH SHIT MY ARMS MY LEGS TINGLING AND FADING and fading and growing cold—

My body is going away I’m losing it where is it going it’s all cold but the hot spots my ass my cock my throat even the other wounds are cold and numb but I can still feel foamy blood bubble at my slashed windpipe and my swollen cock why swollen oozing dripping and my colon torn on the inside as thick intruding flesh tears at my rectum—

Grey it’s all grey fading to white ice sinking into ice no one told me death would be so cold can’t even feel my slashed throat—

Loud buzzing sound all else fading I can hear him now he’s cursing think he’s beating me can’t feel it—

hot lava molten steel in my ass fuck same thing flowing outta my cock the hot burning pain in my cock and my ass in a dark world of ice life flowing into my ass and outta my cock as things start spinning and I

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