Victim POV 7–Taking a Stab at It

It’s clear that he knows I’m on the make, but I don’t know how he knows it.

I mean, I am on the make.  I need dick and I’m dressed to get it.  The neon-red laces in my bright blue Puma kicks are the same shade as the t-shirt that covers my smooth, firm torso like a second skin.  The crotch of my tight, slutty low-rise jeans is partly unzipped; a sharp eye could easily detect that I’m free-balling underneath.

But this guy is on the other side of the street.  He’s standing under a streetlight, and I’m in the dark, so I don’t think he can see me well.  Still, he’s gripping the pronounced bulge in his groin and grinning at me in a way that make my dick pulse.

For some reason, it also makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but who cares?  He’s hot as fuck.

He looks like he’s a little older than me—late twenties, I’d say—and he’s got a rough, blue-collar look that really trips my trigger.  His fleece hoodie is thrown casually over a stained white t-shirt and torn jeans tucked into a pair of brown leather workboots, none of it concealing his heavily-muscled physique.  He looks like he could fuck me right into the ground, and that’s exactly what my aching fuckhole needs tonight.

He grins again and jerks his head to the right.  I look in that direction and see a battered pickup, at least fifteen years old, with a toolbox mounted across the bed.  He heads toward it and I cross the street, aiming for the truck as well.  I’m beginning to suspect the stud doesn’t have much money, but that’s ok.  This one can fuck me for free. 

By the time I reach the passenger door, he’s already inside, with the motor running.  The interior is littered with fast-food bags and soda bottles—and a few beer cans.  There’s a yeasty whiff on his breath but it’s barely noticeable over the aroma of mansweat and testosterone the dude gives off.  Fuck, I’ve got myself a real man.  I can’t wait to have his hog jammed up in me.

I tell him my name as he pulls out and heads for the highway.  He tells me to call him Ryan; we both know we’re lying, but who cares?  We’re both just looking for a quick, anonymous fuck.  I have no doubt his friends and co-workers don’t know he slips dudes the dick on the DL.

He proves me right when he exits the highway.  After a few twists and turns that get me lost, he pulls into the parking lot of a rundown hot-sheet motel that I’ve never heard of—and I thought I’d been banged in every hook-up joint in this entire town.

“Here,” he says, handing me a twenty, “Go get us a room.”  I get out and head for the office, leaving him in the truck.

The old broad in the office has hair dyed the shade of a new penny and a Marlboro dangling from her lower lip.  She glares sourly at me and raised an eyebrow but slides the key to room 18 across the counter without comment.  Holding it in my hand—my jeans are way too tight slip the huge fob into my pocket—I return to my straight-boy hookup.

With another of those erotic, evil grins, he snatches the key from my hand—fuck, I love a forceful man—and leads the way to the room.  He ushers me into the dark room, and as I head towards the bedside lamp, dimly seen in the ambient light reflected from the parking lot,  I hear metallic sounds behind me,  Turing on the light, I wheel around to see the stud sliding the chain lock on the door—he’s clearly already turned the deadbolt.

He responds to my questions glance with a smirk.  “Just making sure we aren’t disturbed.”

“Good idea,” I reply—and it is.  I step to the side and draw the dingy curtains over the dirty windows.  While I do so, my new fuckbuddy shrugs his hoodie off and tosses it onto the dresser, then peels the t-shirt up over his head, revealing a muscular, furry chest with jutting nipples and hairy, ripped abs that make me drool.  Before he can say a word, I kick off my sneakers, wriggle out of my jeans and shuck my shirt, leaving my sm

ooth young body nude before him.

He unzips his fly and slowly extracts what has to be the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.  I swear to God, it’s gotta be more than nine inches long and two thick, wrapped in huge, pulsating veins.

And for the first time in my life, I’m afraid of getting fucked.  That thing looks like it can seriously damage me.

“Hey, man,” I start, but something in his face stops me.

 His smile has always had an edge to it, but the one he gives me now has a malevolent glee that causes me fear.  And then he speaks…

“Hey, faggot,” he says, the ice in his voice freezing me to the core, “Are you ready?  Ready to get what a fucking homo like you deserves?”

This makes no sense.  I mean, I love it when a fucker talks to me like a real man, but there’s a ring of contempt, of downright hatred in his voice, that makes me quail.  Surely he can’t—

But he can.  He draws his arm back; it all seems to happen in slow motion.  I feel frozen, watching, but unable to move.  The bunching of his powerful bicep is mesmerizing; the inherent power must be phenomenal…

The blow comes before I even have time to flinch.  It connects with my flat, smooth belly, driving the air from my lungs and dropping me to my knees.

The pain is incredible.  Why?  Why is he doing this?  Does he think I won’t let him fuck me?  Is he afraid that I can somehow let someone know he likes dudes?  I don’t even know him; I can’t harm him—why?

I stare beseechingly up at him from my knees, trying to speak but barely even able to breathe, and I meet his eyes—oh, God, his eyes…

There’s a glint them that strikes terror in my heart.  I’ve never seen anything like it; it’s a combination of lust and psychosis that tells me that reason will be useless.  And that evil grin—

Oh my God, am I gonna get out of this alive?

He bends down and grabs a handful of my hair, jerking my upwards.  Fuck, I have to stand.  I can barely breathe, but I have to rise or he’ll rip my fucking scalp off.  He drags me back upright; what’s he doing?

Oh shit his fist—[WHAM]

fuck what happened why am I on the floor

He hit me again.  Christ, I didn’t know he could hit that hard—I bounced off the fucking wall.  My eye—my left eye aches; I can barely see outta it—but I can see well enough to watch him approach, leering, towering over me…

…oh fuck, his massive cock is oozing.  This is what he wants—this is what gets hm off.  Hurting me gets him off.  I gotta get the fuck outta here, now—

Shit, his boot, he’s swinging his foot—


Steel toes fucking workboots must have steel toes the pain the stabbing pain in my side it hurts to breathe deep

What did he do?  What did this fucker do me?

He’s lifting his foot, holding it over my face—I can see gravel stuck in the worn tread; what’s he doing now—


He’s laughing.  I’m in horrible pain, and he’s laughing at it—it’s a cold, cruel sound.  I gotta get outta here, this psychopath is gonna fucking kill me.

I roll over and start scrambling for the door.  Above and behind me, I hear a loud guffaw, almost a bark—


It hurts to breathe so bad; he must’ve driven a rib into my lung—the door.  I gotta make it to the door…

He’s still laughing as I reach the door.  Fuck, I can’t believe how scared I am—this was just supposed to be a quick, fun fuck, what the hell happened?  My fingers scramble at the lock, my fear and pain making me clumsy.

Jesus, he’s right behind me—


A chuckle, and he speaks.  “Where ya tryin’ to go, asshole?  Ya wanted something shoved in ya, didntja, homo?  Now you got my blade in yer kidney.  Don’t worry, bitch, this one ain’t gonna kill ya—but we’re just gettin’ started.  Trust me, yer gonna be fuckin’ beggin’ for death before ya earn my hot load.”

He pulls me from the door—I have to move; he’s using the blade embedding in my back to steer me and move me.  He’s enjoying it, too.  I can feel his hard, dripping dick pressed against my back as his hot breath whispers in my ear.

“Just a fuckin’ meat puppet, aintcha, faggot?  Get on that bed before yer just meat.  Yer gonna take my cock, motherfucker, and anything else I wanna stick in ya.  Only reason yer alive is so I can have fun with ya—and my fun is making you suffer, cunt!”

Oh God no how did this happen, how did I end up here?  I just wanted some dick, please God, just some dick, don’t let me die here…I just wanted to get bred…

He stops me at the foot of the bed.  Fuck, he’s literally made me a puppet; I can feel the blade inside me…but it doesn’t seem to hurt as much…


Its out he jerked it out it hurt worse than going in oh God get me outta this please

He laughs and pushes me onto the bed.  I don’t want to move.  I don’t want to add to the damage this fucker has done…

He flips me on my back and climbs on top; my broken ribs are moving—I have a mental image of the jagged broken ends of the bones poking at my tender innards—but then he holds the knife in front of my face.

Oh my God, it’s huge.  It’s as long as his fucking cock and the cuttting edge is serrated wickedly.. It’s covered in blood.  Fuck—that’s my blood.

He’s whispering.  Christ, that light, that crazed light in his eyes…

“You know you want it, cunt,” he hisses, his glittering, pale-blue glare paralyzing me like a snake’s,  “Fuckin’ faggot like you’s just droolin’ to get somethin’ long and hard shoved deep in his homo guts, yeah?  Fuck yeah, man!”

He raises the blade—what’s he doing?  Oh fuck what is he—


Grab it, Jesus, grab it and pull it out he’s fighting me [WHAM]

Oh God my face he hit me get it out keep fighting my arm he’s got my arm



he’s in me his dick and his knife are both buried deep in my guts he’s mounting me like a bitch\

God that hard hairy chest those eyes all I want is to please you man—why?  Why?

I didn’t know I’d spoken, but he replied, “Because this is what you deserve, you cocksuckin’ whore—all you goddam fags need to die with a real man’s cock up yer ass.  You need to suffer, asshole, and I’m just the fucker to make you, ya fell me?  No?  Then try this! [WHAM WHAM WHAM]

my head motherfucker punches like a goddam steam piston—fuck, how many teeth did I lose?

This isn’t real.  The cheap polyester comforter scratching my back isn’t real, the heavy musk of his mansweat overlaid with the metallic scent of blood isn’t real.  None of this is happening…


ok I won’t scream just please don’t hit me no more please please my lips you split my lips I can’t see out my left eye

“Yer ass is loose, ya fuckin’ whore,” he sneers as he reams my hole mercilessly, “Guess you ain’t in enough pain yet to work my shaft like a good little pansy should, huh?  Don’t worry, asswipe, I can fix that!”

Huh?  Fuck no, not more, no please, oh shit—


It’s out his pulled it out—what’s he doing?  Where’s it going?


I wanted this I wanted him in me but not like this dear God not like this such a stud but not like this

Gotta get him off—he’s gonna kill me—gotta get him off—NOW!  Hit him!  Punch him!

Goddam, it’s like hitting marble—I knew those massive furry pecs were strong but my only working arm isn’t having any impact…

…oh shit, yes I am—he’s angry.  Oh my God the look on his face—what’s he gonna do now?

He bends close, the dark stubble on his cheek brushing mine.  The beer is still on his breath as he whispers in my ear, quietly, almost sensually,  “You really do like getting’ hurt, dontcha, faggot?  Yer just askin’ for it, aintcha?  Ok, you cocksuckin’ piece a’ shit, ya feel my blade in yer side?  I only stuck it in three inches…”

He pulls back and gently, lovingly kisses the tip of my nose.

Dude, I coulda been yours…I coulda made you so happy…

“I’m gonna fuckin’ impale yer liver, cunt, and it’s gonna hurt so—fuckin’—bad.  Try not to cum, ya fuckin’ pervert, har!”


“Aw, fuck yeah!” he crows triumphantly as he drills my fuckhole harder and faster, “That’s whatcha needed, huh, bitch?  Now yer working my cock like a good little homo!  Here, let’s keep it goin’—gonna carve yer liver like deli meat, motherfucker.  An’ don’t worry, I’ll waste yer useless ass long before ya bleed out from this little love bite.”


I can’t speak but he can see the look in my face.  His lust and glee are unbearable…

I’m cold.  There’s a cold sweat oozing from my pores; my skin slides smoothly against his as he continues to brutally rape my torn, bleeding asshole.  But he’s still so hot, such a true alpha…no, don’t let it end, I don’t want to be in pain but I need him to breed me…

“You want it, dontcha, faggot?  You need the sperm of a real man shot up inside ya to make ya real, yeah?  You ain’t real, fucker.  Yer ass ain’t ever gonna be anything more than a cumrag for me to unload into and then dump like the piece of used-up trash it is.”


Why does it hurt worse when he yanks the knife out of my tender flesh than when he sticks it in…

He holds it up and I can see pink strands caught in the serrations…oh Jesus, my guts, I’m looking at pieces of my guts…

“I’m gonna blow, cunt.  Gonna shoot up yer worthless fuckhole  Wanna know whatcha gotta do to get it?  You gotta die, motherfucker.  Only thing that’ll trip my trigger is the satisfaction of seein’ the light of life fade from the eyes of a dyin’ faggot.  Get ready, ya cumscukin’ pervert, cause this is gonna hurt like all fuck!”

What?!?  NO!  he’s holding the blade up, the powerful muscles in his arm tensing for the blow—“NO!  OH OGD, DON’T DO THIS PLEASE—AGGPHPTH!!!”

My throat my voicebox he jammed it into my voicebox I can taste my own blood I can’t scream I’m gurgling what is it what my own fucking blood I’m gargling my own blood no not happening not real

His shoulders I grab I clutch hold him don’t let him go don’t end like this


dying i’m dying copper in my mouth my life draining from my cock JESUS THE KNIFE HE PULLED IT BACK OUT WHAT


cold so cold

the rage and triumph in his eyes

the cold

no there’s warmth

deep inside there’s warmth

his seed he’s spilling his manseed inside me

hold it the cold is taking me hold onto the warmth

black and icy all is black and icy


“M4M—looking now.

Aggressive top looking for service.  32, built, 170, 6’4”.  Can host.  Looking for young only.  HMU.”

That’s all it says, but that’s all it has to.  I’m already hard just reading it.  No idea who this dude is, but I want his cum.  Thank you, Craigslist.

I reply with my stats:

“Hey man, want your dick.  19, 5’9”, 123 lbs.  Blond and smooth.  Willing to travel for your load. –teenslutboi”

I navigate the obstacle course of my bedroom floor, littered with piles of dirty laundry, to the tiny bathroom area.  The vanity and sink are actually part of the open closet; as I check my look in the mirror, I can see my remaining clean clothes hanging behind me.

What I wear will depend on the reply.  Fuck, man, please let him reply.  I’m so anxious my hands are trembling when I reach for the phone.  I can barely pull up my email account.

Man, I know I’m high, but there must be something else going on; it’s not like I’ve seen a pic of this guy, even.  But there’s something about his ad that makes me know I want him.

Fuck, there’s an answer. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease….

“Roehampton Suites, 15th and Park.  Reply when you get here and wait for directions.”

I look at the time—it’s about a quarter past eleven.  I’m one block off Park and four from 15th.  “OMW.  Be there by 11:30.”

I know the place; I’ve had hookups there before.  The entrance is locked after 10 pm.  There is no real lobby, the street door leads to a glass cubicle.  From it, the door on the left leads to the check-in desk, which is set so far back it can’t be seen.  The door on the right leads to the guest entrance and gives access to the rooms.

He’s gonna have to come down and let me in.  If I don’t like what I see, I can always leave.  But I think I’m gonna like it.

But that clears up one thing—I can’t dress too much like a slut.  Well, I mean, I ain’t gonna cover myself with a burka, but I can’t go full-on whore the way I’d like; this motel ain’t that kinda place.

So I find a clean simple t-shirt of thin white cotton.  I’ve shrunk it slightly.  My torso is smooth and slim, but the shirt is tight enough to highlight my small but firm pecs.  I tuck the shirt into the tightest pair of skinny jeans I have—they’re black, with elaborate designer stitching on the rear pockets, which draws attention to the way they lovingly cradle my firm bubble butt.

I cap it off—literally—with a black ball cap worn backwards, shoved down on my head.  Even so, the mirror shows unruly strands of blond hair peeking out underneath.

Just before leaving, I lace my white leather sneakers forcefully around my feet, tightening them almost painfully.

I’m ready to be used.

It actually takes me twenty minutes to get there; I missed a light because of an ambulance going through the intersection at the wrong moment.  I send a reply the moment I throw my car into park; I’ve parked on the side of the building out of sight of the entrance.

His response is swift and abrupt; he’ll be at the door in exactly three minutes to let me in.  I leave the car and hurry around the corner to be there in time.

Holy fuck, I’m glad I am.  He’s there—it has to be him.  Jesus Christ, what a fucking stud.

His short hair is dark and slightly curly—and receding slightly at the temples; a sure sign of an overabundance of testosterone.  His t-shirt is tighter than mine, stretched tautly across the massive swelling of his chest muscles.  It’s the same shade of electric blue as his eyes, coldly appraising me the way I’m appraising him.  The cuffs of the sleeves stretch tightly across his large biceps and down the inside of his left forearms is a large tattoo of a winged skull.

His jeans are as tight as his shirt; they aren’t skinny jeans like mine because skinny jeans wouldn’t fit over the massive knots of muscles in his thighs and calves.  Under the frayed denim cuffs, I can see he’s got on a pair of worn and scuffed square-toed ropers.

Did I say I could leave?  I can’t leave.  I have to have him.  I crave his cock.  I want his sperm so bad, please let him want me too, oh please…

I sigh with relief as he opens the doors and lets me in.  He gives me another quick cold glance before turning silently away and striding down the brightly-lit but empty hallway.  I follow, almost having to run to keep up with the pace of his long legs.

He arrives at his room and opens the door before I catch up; I manage to slip inside quickly—but realize I never caught a glimpse of the room number.  Not that it matters.

The dude turns to look at me calmly.  I notice the muscles bunched at the corners of his hard, frim jaw.  A heavy scruff of five o’clock shadow darkens the jaw as well as his cheeks.  “Well, what ya, waitin’ for, faggot?  Strip!” he barks.

I comply; even if I didn’t want to obey this stud, I don’t think I could have resisted his command.  There’s something about the scent coming off him—pheromones, maybe—that overrides the smell of bleach and industrial cleaning solvents in the relentlessly clean room and establishes his alpha status.

Sitting on the bed, I start with my shoes, unlacing them carefully before prying them off.  The dude stands over, watching, one hand rubbing an almost frighteningly huge bulge in his crotch.  He continues to rub himself as I stand up and wriggle out of my skinny jeans, so tight I almost need to peel them out of the crack of my ass.

Once free of the jeans, I jerk the shirt up and off over my head, taking my cap with it.  I stand before the dominant stud, nude except for my white ankle socks, my long, thin, vein-wrapped cock standing to attention in front of me.

He smirks at me and I know what he thinks.  He thinks I’m just some useless slut who wants his cock—and he’s right.  I’m anxious to prove it to him.

Suddenly he reaches down and grabs the hem of his t-shirt.  In a much smoother move than mine, he whips it off over his head in one swift motion, revealing his enormous pecs and six-pack abs.

There’s a dusting of dark fur across the stud’s bulging chest which darkens into a clearly-defined trail as it works its way down his firm belly and disappears below the waistband of his jeans.  A long, defined ridge in the denim extends outward from his groin; as he rubs his right hand over it, the ridge extends even further.

Holy fuck, what I have I gotten myself into?  I want his dick, but I’m not sure I can handle it—it’s literally that big.

But then my eyes are drawn inexorably upwards along the thick fur trail lining his belly, up past his muscular chest, glistening with sweat, his large dark nipples hard and erect like his cock, to his cold, hard, handsome face.  I know I’m going to submit.  No matter how much it hurts, for him, I’ll submit.

His eyes drift behind me.  He grunts and looks back at me.  I get it; he wants me on the bed.  Without allowing my gaze to shift from his face, I slowly back towards the double bed. I stop when I feel the slick polyester comforter against the back of my calves.  Gingerly, I ease my way back up onto the bed.  I hadn’t paid any attention to it before; the comforter and blankets, I now realize, have been turned down and soon the thin sheets, stiff with starch, are scraping my bare, smooth asscheeks.

Feeling behind me with one arm, I manage to snag the pillows and get them placed under my head.  I finally settle in on my back, my legs spread, my dick rising in front of me like a hood ornament.

I’m ready for him.

Silently, he continues to stare down at me, one hand on his groin, the other rubbing and fondling one of his nipples.  I can’t tell if that faint look of contempt on his face is his natural expression or not, but it doesn’t matter.  Somehow, it only seems to make him even hotter.

He unzips his fly.  He has to reach in with both hands to wrest his monster hog free from the confines of his tight jeans.

Oh fuck, it’s even bigger than I thought it would be—how is that even possible?  From here, it looks like a vine-wrapped fireplug.  Clear beads of precum glint on the swollen purple head.

A lump forms in my throat; I have trouble swallowing.  I cast my eyes downward as I gulp, only to find my gaze pulled irresistibly upwards.  His thick-soled ropers planted firmly on the thin carpet, those faded jeans becoming tighter around his legs the further up his thighs my eyes travel, that jutting, bobbing, dripping shaft, his massive chest with its fine haze of fur heaving in anticipation, his eyes—

Oh fuck, his eyes—what is that look?  I’ve never seen that kinda look before…

I think he’s more ready for me than I am for him.

He lunges—wait, what?  Dude, no lemme prepare myself—no wait stop for fuck’s sake use some lube don’t just hawk up phlegm on my ass get something to—


Breathe, just keep breathing, he can’t keep going his cock can’t be that long shit shit shit it feels like I’m getting a spear shoved up my ass FUCK DUDE STOP PLEASE OH PLEASE

There’s nothing else right now, nothing else in my universe but this huge, powerful man fucking me brutally in the ass.  The weight of his muscles pressing down on me, his fur scratching me as his body slides over mine on a film of our mingled sweat, the waves of manscent and pheromones exuded by his body as he pins me down and reams out my colon—this is all there is.

But he’s stopped.  He’s not driving in any further, oh thank you Jesus.  I can’t take any more.

I can’t speak.  I’m too full of cock.  My sphincter has already collapsed under the onslaught of his shaft, but I’m afraid to move.  Fuck oh fuck he’s so huge inside me if he moves at all he’s gonna tear me he’s gonna make me bleed please no dude…

Then he speaks.

“Almost all the way in, motherfucker.  Ya likin’ it?  I ain’t even started fuckin’ ya yet.  And I gotta special happy ending for ya—don’t worry, faggot, you ain’t ever gonna cum harder than you’re gonna tonight!”

What?  No, dude, there can’t be more, it already feels like you’re raping my fucking intestines, you gotta be OH FUCK NO CHRIST YOU’RE FUCKING HOLES IN MY GUTS JESUS NO—

It hurts so bad how can I feel anything else but I can

I can feel his denim-covered thighs pumping like pistons as he drives his shaft even deeper into my rectum

I can feel his hard firm six-pack abs thrusting against my smooth flat belly

I can feel his hands gripping my wrists and forcing my arms back above my head on the bed

I can feel his scuffed square-toed shitkickers scraping against my socks and lower calves

I can feel every inch of the hot hard man as he painfully violates my body and I love it I love the fucking and the thrusting and even the pain that sharp spearing agony hurts so fucking good

He sees it.  He knows, and I know he knows.  Good.  He knows I’ll give him whatever he wants for the sake of his load.  It’ll make him happy—and I want this hot as fuck stud to be happy.

Except it’s not.  What’s wrong?  Why is he looking at me like that?  The contempt was sexy, but this is—is—what?  It’s not hate; it’s too erotic for that; what the fuck is going on?

He lets go of my wrists and rises up somewhat, looking down on me.  He’s still pumping my ass, fuck yeah—it hurts, oh god it hurts so bad but I’m falling in with his rhythm.  Why is he looking at me like that?  What is he

His hands oh shit what the fuck dude get ‘em off I can’t breathe what the fuck are you doing

Dude no get off what the fuck off me let go why are your hands around my throat what what’s that

“Time to die, faggot.  You worthless homo bitches always fall for the Craigslist ads and the motel hookups.  You stupid piece of shit, you make it so easy.  Just another useless queer gettin’ raped and strangled in a motel room.  Yeah, you heard me, cunt.  You’re dying.  I’m gonna kill ya.  So c’mon and fight it, cocksucker—you’re gonna lose, but your struggle is gonna jack me off so good!”

What the fuck he’s killing me so he can cum what OH SHIT HE’S GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL ME THIS PSYCHO IS GONNA STRANGLE ME TO DEATH

No no no no get the fuck off me I gotta get away gotta get away I can’t his rod is impaling my ass pinning me to the bed like I’ve been speared


it hurts so fucking bad his hands are tightening like a vise I can’t pull them away he’s too strong higher maybe

no his rock hard biceps too strong my hands slipping on sweat over his winged skull tattoo

his chest his hard heaving chest no get off beat against it fuck like beating a brick wall no fuck this can’t be happening oh god oh fuck oh please no beat and slap and thrash just GET THE FUCK OFF OH FUCKING HELL PLEASE OH GOD NO

his face his eyes claw claw make him stop rough steel wool that’s his scruff his stubble on his cheeks oh fuck those cold blue eyes

they’re not cold anymore hot hot with bloodlust he wants me to die

oh shit still on me and in me I can’t break free he fills me utterly

the pain the pressure my throat my chest my head my dick what the fuck why is my dick so hard

he’s still squeezing my throat as he thrusts that massive shaft up my colon crunching pain what the fuck



what’s happening was gonna meet a friend for coffee after wasn’t supposed to die tonight just looking for a quick fuck why why

a vacuum I’m trying to breathe in a vacuum fight try harder keep going harder air if I try hard enough I can breathe I know it forget about the man holding you down and traumatizing your colon just breathe asshole you can do it


“Die, you cocksucking faggot, die with my dick up your disgusting homo fuckhole, you worthless fucking cunt, yeah? Huh?  Ain’t no one gonna care about yer useless cumslurping ass gettin’ offed, huh?  Ya like that?  C’mon, cunt, fight for it, fight for the air.  Work the spunk outta my shaft as you die so your death ain’t a total waste of flesh, you piece of shit!”

what I don’t


it’s fading cold and black but the pain won’t fade why please just let me die but the pain won’t go away

my chest fuck it hurts the pain the pressure please let me die

my throat fuck why dude why are you still throttling me I’m dying you’re only doing this so you can keep hurting me

my head the black fireworks the maddening buzz of cicadas such agony

my dick what why so stiff so erect my sack so puckered and shriveled what the fuck is happening

please no don’t do this maybe I can still live please let me live let go

your cock oh shit it’s so big inside me the pain is fading black roses are blooming and I am full of you

no please it feels so good but it means death I know it means death but it’s so good

fuck the burning the boiling in my ass your face is fading but I can still see the snarl that’s your cum you’re cumming in me as I die that’s why

the pain the terrible burning pain in my cock what the fuck im cumming thick ropy strands

fuck feels like my spunk is being ripped outta my cock i didn’t know it would hurt this bad i didn’t know it would hurt this good


seed flowing into me and out of me

Victim POV 6–The Hog and the Pig

It’s chilly tonight, but not cold. I’ll go with my leather bomber jacket; if I leave it open over a white t-shirt, it’ll show off my torso. Not that I’m a big, muscely guy; I’m slim and lithe. But that shows off just as well and lotsa guys like it.

Enough of ‘em like it that it pays to keep in shape. I’ve just gotten in from the gym. Their pool is chilly and crowded, but the pool in my complex isn’t heated, so it’s where I go in the winter. Plus, I find a lot of contacts there. Half my income comes from guys I meet at the gym.

Not tonight, though. A lot of looks, but no bites. Well, there was that one dude—old and fat, but I’da done him if he’d had any money. But he didn’t; I could tell just by looking. I always know where the money is. Like my momma said, “Don’t marry money—just fuck it.”

Bless her heart, crazy old bitch was right.

I need to find a new daddy soon though; the money from the last one has just about run out. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’ll fuck a dude just because I think he’s hot—but if he don’t have cash, he better be real hot.

At any rate, I’m home and getting ready to head out on the prowl. I’ll start down at Club 69 and work my way down the other bars on the strip. If it’s a bad night, I’ll have to head out to The Underpass. Most nights I’m able to avoid that place, though. Good thing, too.

Too many rentboys vanish from that place.

Let’s see, tight jeans that highlight my package, check. And I won’t need to strip them off; I’ve cut a slit in the ass. I ain’t wearin’ shorts underneath—I’m ready to go. After all, if my jeans are tight, it can take too long to peel ‘em off; I ain’t gonna break the mood—I like getting’ fucked in tight jeans. Equally tight t-shirt visible beneath my sleek leather jacket, check. Ok, what kinda boots do I wanna get fucked in? Lessee…

Oh fuck yeah, these black leather Demonia boots with the buckled straps around the calf. Laces and a zipper for easy access—not that I’ll be taking them off. I’ll be watching them hanging in the air beyond the shoulders of whoever is fucking me tonight.

And whoever the john turns out to be, he’ll be lucky. I’m a good lay. Worth the price. My slim, smooth body, my firm denim-covered and leather-booted legs—yeah, whoever gets to fuck me better appreciate the favor I’m doin’ him.

Let’s get goin’.

Like I said, I need to find a new daddy. Car is on the fritz—I could call a cab, but I ain’t gonna waste the money; it’s only two blocks out to the main drag and then three blocks down. And this leather jacket blocks the wind pretty well. But still, I deserve a working car. I’ll find someone to pay. And even if not, I’m horny. One way or another, I’m gonna get fucked tonight, but believe me, someone’s gonna pay.

Someone’s gonna pay a lot.

It’s dark down these side streets. I wish they’d repair the streetlights. Not enough tax dollars in this neighborhood, I guess. But it gets kinda dangerous. On the other hand, most people have their headlights on, so you can tell when a car is coming. But what’s coming now isn’t a car, it’s a motorcycle.

Ok, I’m interested. It’s a Harley, a Softail Classic. Gleaming black and chrome with studded black leather saddlebags, two seats—when it glides through the gleaming circle of the streetlight, I can see that the black finish is highlighted by strategic points of dark midnight blue.

Guys on bikes are always hot; guys on Harleys especially so. And this dude doesn’t disappoint. As his bike rumbles up to the curb, I get a good look. Older than me, but not more than, say, thirty-one or two. Long, shoulder-length black hair—no helmet laws in this state, so it fans out under the red bandanna tied over his head.

He’s dressed—well, actually, he’s dressed a lot like I am. His leather jacket is the huge bulky kind favored by bikers, with zippers over half the surface. On him, it looks real. He’s clearly not a poser or one of those weekend warrior types, desk jockeys who like aspire to street cred by tooling around the suburbs on overpriced bikes.

This one’s a real biker dude. The waves of testosterone his hard body gives off are damn near visible. His diesel jeans are skin tight. They outline the thick, firm muscles of his thighs. Below his knees, his legs are encased in black motorcycle boots, rising most of the way up his tight calves. The thick-soled leather boots are held on by five leather straps with bright steel buckles. They look like mine, but they’re real—no zipper for easy access.

Bet he leaves them on when he fucks; too much of a pain in the ass to take them off. Fuckin’ hot.

He’s got a dark t-shirt under his jacket; in the shadows, I can’t make out the color. It doesn’t matter; what I can see of him shows me how well-built he is. Strong muscled dude on a crotch rocket—man, I already want his dick. Now, if I can just figure out how to make some money outta this, it’ll be a perfect night…

He’s pulled to the curb just past where I’m standing. I’ve been able to take all this in within a matter of seconds. Now, he turns to look at me.

His eyes are like embers of coal—blazing, yet hard as stone. I’m both attracted by their beauty and repelled by their coldness. A well-groomed black goatee covers his strong jaw with fur; his handsome, chiseled face is almost emotionless.

I can’t tell if he wants me or not.

It’s cold. And once he shuts the Harley off, it’s quiet, too. The apartment buildings along this stretch of the street are set well back. And the tenants in the front basically install iron bars over the windows and ignore anything that happens on the street.

The biker stud appraises me coldly. I’ve never felt such an icy, impersonal sensation before and it scares me.

There are literally hundreds of people within the sound of my voice, but I’ve never felt so alone and helpless before. There’s something about this guy, about his mere physical presence, that seems to take control.

I’m his and we both know it. I don’t know how it happens, but it does, when I catch his eye again. His face contorts with a contemptuous smirk, and I know I’ll do whatever he wants.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He won’t pay me; for all I know, the dude might actually hurt me. But it doesn’t matter. Even if he’s one of those sick fucks who gets off on pain, he’s still gonna fuck me tonight. I want it. I want him—no matter what.

He grins at me and I flinch. It’s a sly grin, full of complicity and dark promises, and it gets my cock hard (like it wasn’t already). He twists his head, more or less beckoning with it and I approach him.

When he speaks, his voice grinds through the lower registers and makes my dick and balls vibrate. “Hey, bitch,” he rumbles, “get on and I’ll give ya a ride.” He chuckles and stares at me brazenly.

Not daunted in the slightest, I stare right back. Dammit, I’m the one in control. Or at least, I’m gonna show him I’m not a pushover.

“Yeah?” I sneer at him, “I like a long ride—how long can ya last?”

He stops chuckling. “I’ll last longer than you will, cunt,” he snaps coldly, “get on. Now.”

I obey. I don’t know why. I mean, I’ve done dozens of guys—dozens of dozens. But I’ve never come across anyone like this guy before. And I don’t know what to think or how to react. He’s such a fucking stud, but he scares me. He scares me a lot. And part of my fear is that I’m so attracted to him, I’ll let him do whatever he wants, as long as I get his load.

And that’s a bad thing. It puts him in control, not me. And there’s something about this guy—I don’t think he has a lot of control.

And the fact that that thought gets me hard is the scariest thing of all. But it doesn’t stop me from getting on his bike.

I slip onto the Harley’s rear seat and wrap my arms around the stud as he throttles the bike up and heads out toward the highway. I cling to his torso like it’s a boulder—and it’s just as hard and firm as if it truly was. I press my face against the biker’s back, burying it in the slick, smooth leather, inhaling its scent, feeling his muscles flex against my cheek as my shaft grows so hard it aches.

I enjoy the ride. I enjoy it a lot. Fuckin’ crotch rocket, vibrating on my sack and my tool—this dude must be so fucking horny, riding around like this all time. I’ll bet he needs some release. That’s ok; he can release it all in my aching fuckhole.

He zips past the Underpass and stops at the light at the interstate access road. I know where he’s going; there’s a cheap motel on the other side of the highway. Wonder if he’s local. Maybe; I didn’t need to give him directions here.

I’m surprised when he pulls around back of the motel. No idea why he didn’t park in the main lot—but he fishes a key out of his pocket; he’s already got a room. I follow him across the gravel parking lot, my boots crunching in the large marks left by his boots.

We walk around the building and enter room 134. He unlocks the door and steps inside; I follow and he shuts the door behind me, leaving us in total darkness. Only when the door is completely closed does he turn on the light.

I immediately turn to face him, grabbing for his crotch. I’d thought it was what he wanted and I’m surprised when he shoves me forcefully onto the bed without touching his cock.

“Get your pants off, whore, I’m gonna fuck ya,” he growls, pulling off his leather jacket. His t-shirt, I can now see, is dark brown and tighter on him than mine is on me. He peels it sinuously to reveal a flat furry belly and hairy hubcap pecs; the biker is a damn near perfect archetype of masculinity.

I sit up and pull off my jacket and my shirt. The biker looks down at my smooth, firm chest and breathes heavily. “I said pull your pants off, cunt, not your shirt.”

“I don’t have to. There’s a hole cut in the ass,” I tell him, staring him defiantly in the eyes.

It’s the hardest thing I’ve had to do. His dark blazing eyes turn on me with a burst of lust and rage like I’ve never seen before. I’m suddenly strongly aware that I’m alone with a strange man and no one knows where I’ve gone or with whom.

I’ve been in this situation many times before. What is it about this time that makes me aware of my vulnerability?

And more to the point—why do I not care? I’m so fucking horny right now—and there’s something about the dude’s look—that sneering, disgust-filled look of domination—that makes me want him even more.

He thinks I’m a piece of shit. And as long as he fucks me, I’m ready to let him treat me like one.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m better than this; I’m the one who decides, the one who chooses…

Oh my god, I don’t care. He’s unzipping his fly. Holy fuck—the hog that flops out is enormous. It’s a thick, long uncut slab of meat—and it’s not even fully erect yet.

Now I know there’s something wrong with me. His tool is gonna split me wide open. I can tell just by looking that this is gonna hurt like all kinds of fuck. And even so, my own shaft starts to throb at the thought.

I’ve never really believed in pheromones, but it’s the only explanation. The dark, muscled biker reeks of sex, and I want it so bad, I’ll do whatever it takes to milk the sex right out of his hard body…

He leans over me. I gaze up into his granite face, merciless as stone as he speaks quietly in white-hot rage. “You fuckin’ whore. Ready for any dude’s dick, huh? Any place, any time, as long as you get paid, right? Bet you’da taken my rod right there on the street if I’d flashed some bills at ya, huh, cunt?”

He grabs my boots and thrusts my legs apart and I feel the weight of his lithe, panther-like body on me.

He’s on top of me, his hard, cruel, bearded face filling my field of view. The hot musky scent of mansweat washes over me, pinning me to the bed with an almost physical force. I place my hands on his chest as he lies on top of me, feeling his rock-hard pecs under the fine black fur covering his torso.

His eyes are lit with an icy gleam as he sneers down into my face. “Lick me, you faggot whore. I worked up a lotta sweat, ridin’ my hog all day. Get your fuckin’ punk tongue into my pits and slurp up my sweat, you cheap-ass cumchugger.”

He reaches down and grabs a hank of my hair, pulling my face into his left armpit. The reek of his sweat and hormones is as overwhelming as his wiry hair; it’s like his pits are lined with steel wool that grinds my face as he chuckles evilly.

Goddam, this ain’t right. He’s such a man—oh fuck, I want him so bad. Yes, if this is what it takes, I’ll lick your musk. I’ll lick anything ya want, dude…

He manipulates my head like I’m a puppet; I simply let my tongue hang out of my mouth and let him apply it to whatever part of his body he desires. He sits up on his knees, pulling my head up with him, never letting my face get out of contact with his hard chest. He twists my head to one side as he applies my mouth to his left nipple. “Suck it, cunt,” he snaps before spitting in my face. I close my eyes and feel the warm trickle of his spittle sliding down my cheek as I fervently tongue the hard knot of his nipple.

Without warning, the biker stud drags my head roughly to the right, scraping my skin along his chest hair—much smoother than his pit hair, but still being ground against my skin—to stop with my face buried in the moist valley between the swellings of his iron-hard pecs. Oh fuck, this hot alpha dude wants me, wants my tongue to taste his pheromones and sex chemicals…

My cock is so hard, it hurts. I don’t know how this is gonna end—and I don’t care. The call, the sexual need emanating from this man is overpowering; I already know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make him fill me with his DNA.

And that scares the fuck outta me. There’s something wrong with this guy. He doesn’t just wanna fuck me.

He wants to hurt me.

And I want his load so bad—oh fuck, god help me—I’ll let him.

As my face is forced abrasively across the biker’s chest, I soon find his right nipple forced into my mouth. As I slurp greedily at the small hard mound of flesh, I feel his free hand scrabbling around my ass, gripping my firm cheeks, squeezing, probing—finding the tear in the seat.

He drops me abruptly, looking expressionlessly down into my face. “You worthless fucking slut,” he says levelly, coldly.

I have to release my dick. It’s straining in my crotch, too tight, too hard. I have to set it free. I don’t break eye contact with the biker—I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. He has control and I know it. But my hand gropes down, unseeing, and unzips my fly, letting my thick, dripping cock spring out.

The biker looks down at my face and still his expression doesn’t change. “Did I tell ya you could get your dick out, slut?” he drawls, savoring his building rage. “You were ready to fuck any dude who came down the street, huh, you useless motherfucker? Yeah, ain’t that right, cunt? Goddam cut open your fuckin’ jeans so anyone can come along and shove a cock up your loose faggot asshole, yeah?”

Oh shit, I’m scared. He’s angry. Goddam Jack the Ripper type, down on whores—but still…

What the fuck is wrong with me? This guy is bigger and stronger than me. And he’s a fucking sadistic psycho who’s gonna get off on hurting me—

Why do I want to let him?

It’s his domination. No, no—I’m my own fucking person; I can’t be enjoying this—

He shoves me back down on my back and jerks my legs up, resting my boots on his shoulder. I remember putting them on tonight—I was gonna watch them bob in the air as I got my ass drilled by some hot stud.

Ok fuck, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen but this isn’t what I meant…

He’s grinning at me as he reaches into his crotch. He’s gonna stick that monstrous shaft into me. No, dude, no; I’m not ready for that thing—you haven’t even used any lube—


please please please pull it out it’s too much please pull it out

oh god yes I can feel it receding oh thank you god


his face, his dark, cruel, handsome, sneering face

Ok. Ok. Ok.

My sphincter has collapsed. He’s torn it. He’s hurt me. Oh fuck, he’s hurt me bad; no one’s ever fucked me so bad I’ve needed to go to the hospital…

What? What’s he saying?

“You worthless fucking whore. How many cumshots has your worn-out fuckhole sucked up, huh, cunt? See, even now, your shredded colon ain’t used to mancock after all them homo dicks you been willin’ to ride. You need a real man to show you your place. And ya know where your place is, faggot? It’s screaming and writhing on the end of my cock. And you’re gonna be doin’ it tonight, cunt.”

I hear the words, but they don’t make sense. I can only absorb so much anyway and right now, I’m full of cock.

The pain, the pressure is phenomenal. I’ve been fucked a lot, but this guy is… Well, he’s…

Oh fuck, he’s compacting my guts. I don’t want this. I want to get fucked, but this dude’s raping my guts. He’s reaming my innards violently.

Oh my god it hurts it hurts so bad this isn’t sex you’re gonna kill me this is gonna tear me open I’m bleeding you’re tearing me apart in the inside…

I don’t understand why I’m so helpless. He’s tearing me open on the inside, but he’s such an alpha stud I can’t stop him…

“Fuck, dude, I was almost there. Your ass was nice and tight around my tool, but I think I stretched ya out. You really are a worthless cunt, ain’t ya? Can’t even make me cum. What kinda faggot whore are ya?”

The pain. Everything he’s put me through, and it’s not enough. His hard, muscled body, pressing against me, is slick with the sweat of his efforts; even his jeans are streaked with dark sweat marks trailing down to those strapped-on boots rising nearly to his knees.

Beyond him, I can see my own Demonia biker boots hanging in the air as he rapes me mercilessly. I remember putting them on, thinking about how I’d watch them bob as I got fucked by a john who’d pay well for the privilege…

No. He’s not getting away with it. Enough. I start grabbing and scratching at his slick, muscled body, my fingernails snagging and tearing at his body hair as he bends over me and fucks me violently.

Mistake. Oh fuck, his anger. His face is twisted with fury as he reaches down and—

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Fuck his hand is like a vise around my thought OH MY GOD I CAN’T BREATHE WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOUR OTHER ARM—

pain pain he’s punching me in the face piledriving his fist into my face as his other hand clamps down on my throat

I can’t breathe

fuck the pain he’s talking what’s he saying names he’s calling me names

he wants me dead I need to die to make him cum

my face his fist into my face every blow

“Fucking cunt!” WHAM

“Cocksucking faggot whore!” WHAM

Stars lights bright lights in my head my cock is hard I can feel it straining

“Die, you worthless faggot cumdump!” WHAM

my head my face the pain I can feel his cock fill my ass with every blow but I CAN’T BREATHE

it’s him that’s all there is he’s over me and on me and in me this biker stud, this hot hard reeking man, I can see him, his face contorted in lust and rage as he dominates me

wasn’t supposed to die like this wasn’t supposed to die tonight

oh fuck, solid streams of molten metal, life, genes, my inner material flowing up outta my cock I give my sperm as the teeth of my zipper tear open my scrotum

it hurts so bad I’m cutting my sack the pain in my chest he’s still punching me why god why I only wanted sex I didn’t want to get used and die


no air no air he’s still punching me my nose it crunched just like my throat

pain crushing pain my chest my throat my head

tearing pain my sack my swollen balls

fire flowing lava being pumped into my ass the biker’s spunk it’s filling me overflowing burning lava flowing out of my own dick is it my cum or the bikers

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—


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—


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—


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—


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…


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—


“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—




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

Victim POV 4–For Leather or Worse

I’m so fucking horny tonight.

It’s like being possessed, sometimes, I think. When I want dick, I go on autopilot. Like now. I’m out looking and I’m not going home until I get a fat mushroom head shoved past my tonsils.

I’m dressed for the part, too. I don’t think I could get on a tighter pair of jeans without someone else’s help. My hightop baller shoes are silver with bright red laces; they’re sure to draw attention if the skin-tight yellow t-shit I’m wearing doesn’t.

Yeah, I’m a little drunk, a little fucked up. Doesn’t matter. A little anesthesia to take a long hard cock inside me. Goddam, I want it bad.

Where am I? Looks like the spot. There’s Club 69 over there. Ain’t going in the clubs, though. They’ll call the cops if I go down on some dude on the dance floor. Got thrown outta 69 once for getting’ fucked in a bathroom stall.

Naw, if I can’t get some dude to pop for a cheap motel room, I’ll suck him off in the alley. Fuck yeah. As long as I get to drink some cum, I don’t care where.

I turn off the main drag and start ambling down a side street. I can take my time. I may be horny as fuck, but I ain’t swallowin’ any sperm that I don’t want. Not like I’m bein’ paid—I ain’t no fuckin’ whore.

I turn right along the street that runs behind the bars. It’s dark and deserted, but I’m only about a hundred yards down when a white shortbed pickup pulls up alongside me. He’s heading the same direction I am, so it’s the passenger window he rolls down.

He’s hot, in a way I find hard to describe. He’s in his mid- to late thirties. His face is…well, I have to say craggy. It’s the face of a man. His pale blonde hair is cut short, showing the receding hairline. The pheromones, the aura of testosterone he gives off is almost palpable.

I already know I want his cum. Whatever his offer, my answer will be yes.

He looks like he’s just leaving the leather bar that was further up the block. He’s wearing nothing but leather from head to foot. His visor cap, his vest, his skin-tight jeans and his boots are all black leather. Under the vest he’s wearing nothing but the dark fur covering his firm chest and his flat, hard belly. His dark eyes glint dangerously at me from the darkness under the brim of his cap.

His voice, when it comes, is low and gravelly. Even as I strain to hear, I’m getting hard.

“How much you charge, bitch?” he rasps.

“I ain’t a whore,” I drawl back at him insolently. I can see a tiny spark of interest in those dark eyes. “But I’ll give you the best blow job you’ve ever had—if your dick is worth it. You got enough cock to gag me?”

He grins. His teeth, white and even, catch the reflection of a streetlight further down the block, giving him the predatory gleam of a shark. For some reason, it makes me harder. Again, doesn’t matter. He’s taking me up.

“Get in,” he says, “I’ll run up to that place on the highway. You think you can handle my tool, cunt? We’ll see if you’re as good as you say.”

He floors it. In just a few lust-drenched minutes, we’re in the parking lot of the by-the-hour motel on the interstate access road. He hands me a twenty.

My dick is so hard, I have trouble walking to the office.

He’s parked on the far side of the lot—which is fine; we have a room at the end of the wing. I go directly to the room, as he told me; he gets out of his truck and walks toward me while I unlock the door. He and I enter the room together.

I’m aware of sudden movement on my left. There’s a sudden, bright, painful sensation.

I wake up slowly. There’s pain, lots of it. Where? My jaw, wow, yes, that hurts like fuck. My head in general, yeah. But there’s something else wrong…

As I become more aware of my surroundings, I realize that I’m kneeling. I can’t move my hands. Fuck, I can’t even feel them. They’re bound behind me painfully by something that constricts my wrists tightly enough to cut off my circulation. What is it? Wire? A zip tie? I can’t tell…

The leather dude is sitting on the bed, his vest off, revealing his furry, developed chest. His legs are spread; I’m on my knees between them. His leather button-fly jeans are open, his long engorged member erect in front of me. It’s huge; at least six inches if not longer. It’s swollen an angry purple and oozing clear precum from its tip.

The older dude grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me upwards. As my head rises in response to his physical summons, I become aware for the first time of several different sensations.

The first is the feeling of something in my mouth. It’s a feeling I’ve experienced before, but never in a sexual setting and it’s very unsettling. There are jaw blocks in my mouth. The only other time I’ve ever experienced this was at the dentist.

They’re designed to keep me from closing my mouth.

I’m also suddenly aware of something circling the back of my neck. It’s about an inch and a half thick—my belt? My jeans are loose and sagging—is he using my belt to force me down onto his cock?

He gives the belt a brutal tug and my face is full of his pubic hair.

Oh fuck he’s plugging my throat hold on he’ll let up soon just hold on and take his shaft you know you want it just hold on he’s pulling out

Air oh thank god air

He’s laughing. He’s talking. What’s he saying?

“Fucking bitch, choke on my fucking cock. Fuck yeah, gag on it, you cunt. Ya wanted to know if it was big enough? How ya likin’ it now, you little slut—big enough for ya?”

He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before his huge shaft is plugging my throat again. I can feel his thick head deep against the base of my tongue as the strap at the back of my neck tightens painfully. I roll my eyes up, my gaze travelling upwards along his hard, hairy body to his face. He sees me looking and sneers. He grunts and gives a great thrust; my nose is flattened against the root of his cock as his bristly pubic hair scratches my face again.

I wish he hadn’t bound my hands. I’d have taken this without restraint. And I want to beat off so fuckin’ bad. This dude knows exactly how to treat a cocksucker like me. I’m pigging out on his dick.

He stops thrusting unexpectedly. I can feel his hand against the back of my head, forcing his cock further down my windpipe with inexorable intensity.

Goddam, I can’t breathe again. Fuckin’ stud is choking me with his dick again. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe oh shit I’m gagging I’m retching oh fuck get it out let me breathe dude let me—

He pulls out and I cough up a huge froth of drool, stringing from my mouth to the massive, glistening head of his meat. It forms a long string that breaks off and splatters on my yellow shirt, streaking it in large moist stripes that reduce it to transparency. My own chest is visible—and this dude seems to like it.

I can just barely glimpse his leering, sneering face beyond the sculpted hairy forest of his chest. He hacks up a large wad of slime and spits in my face. “Fucking faggot,” he grunts, “get back on my cock, you worthless piece of shit.”

I brace for the assault I know is coming. Sure enough, my mouth is full of his meat right away; I get the metallic taste of his precum as he reams my esophagus like a cheap sex toy. Suddenly his thrust increase in speed, force, everything.

Holy fuck, he’s seriously skullfucking me.

Hold on. Just hold on. Cough and spit up the drool. Just hang on. I just need to relax and let him use me. I try to open my throat, to accept his hot fucking cock and milk his seed out of it. I’m only scared when he buries my face deep in his crotch and I can’t see or breathe. I don’t know what he’s doing…

I turn my eyes up again. I can see his strong, furry chest heaving in exertion. He’s sweating heavily. Even from here, I can see it beading on his forehead and matting his chest fur. He’s really working, and really enjoying this. Well, he should. My tongue is working his shaft continually. I love his cock. I love that it’s big enough to gag me. I finally found a dude who can give me what I really want.

He tightens his grip on the belt again; by now, I know enough to inhale deeply as soon as I pick up on what he’s doing. He jams his long hog back down my throat. It sinks so deeply that I’m coughing and gagging involuntarily. Then, in a flash he locks me into place and starts thrusting rapidly.

Jesus, I can feel the bulging veins wrapped around his shaft as he reams out my esophagus. There are repeated blows to my chin, his huge hairy balls slamming into me in time with his pumping.

Fuck, dude, enough. My eyes are watering. I’m gagging—fuck, man, let me breathe. I’m gonna pass out if you don’t ease up. C’mon, man, please…

Oh shit he’s not letting up. Fuck, man, this ain’t cool. I can’t turn my head away, not with your dick so far down my throat. I can’t push you off with my hands bound. I can’t even close my jaws—

Oh shit oh fuck no dude please this isn’t what I want please let up dude please I need air soon oh god please—

Oh thank god he’s pulling back not far still down my throat but I’m unplugged air I have some air…

He presses one hand back against my forehead while pulling forward with the belt, turning my face up to his with my mouth still full of cock. “Fucking faggot,” he whispers as he spits in my face, “is it big enough for ya, you fuckin’ slut? Ya like choking on my cock, huh? Yeah, you fucking choke pig, look how hard your dick is, you piece of shit. Now be a good little piggy and drown on my cum.”

Wait. man, no. Please don’t fuckin’ do this, I don’t wanna—

Oh fuck he’s in me again he’s standing up what the fuck…he’s dragging me along, his dick like a fishhook in my mouth. The wall. He’s got my back against the wall thrusting he’s thrusting again—

He’s slamming my head against the wall. It hurts. I can feel his tight, leather-covered legs pressed against my drool-soaked chest, flexing rhythmically as he pumps his rod down my throat.

He doesn’t pull out, though. Not enough for me to breathe.

Gotta hang on. Maybe if I can make him cum, he won’t kill me. He wants to get off. Maybe. Maybe.

Keep awake. Stay awake. Oh fuck it hurts. It hurts bad. My head the wall his cock my chest my lungs I can hear my heart fuck it’s so fast oh shit I’m so scared so why the fuck is my dick so hard it hurts what the fuck is going on…

He’s cursing me, calling me faggot, whore, slut. His voice is fading, though. There’s a loud pounding in my head is that my heart is that his shaft plugging my windpipe

My face itches it’s his pubic hair my face mashed into his groin his powerful thighs clamping down on my skull to lock me into place so he can inch his tool further down my throat fuck dude you’re so far down inside me just cum please just give me your load that’s all I want right now fuck it just unload in me man—

Please dude quick it’s going dark I’m losing it I can’t hold on much longer just fucking shoot your sperm inside me and let me go—

black flowers blooming in my face hot hot inside me fuck molten lead is that his cum it burns bad it burns so bad not as bad as my own oh fuck i’m cumming jesus never like this before oh fuck he’s pumping his seed directly into my lungs—

he grabs my head and jerks the belt violently holy fuck that cracking sound lighting i’ve been hit by fucking lighting the electric shock fuck i can’t feel my body anymore what the fuck happened what did he do i can still feel his cock spewing in my mouth—

oh my god cold dark his hair in my face his cock swelling and pumping in my mouth buzzing what’s that buzzing sound oh shit it’s—

Victim POV 3–Motel Hell

I’d think the night before a three-day holiday weekend would be busy, but it looks like I’m wrong. I’ve been out here for a while, but no one’s biting.

There’s a guy down on the next corner. He’s getting picked up now. He’s a little older than me, but better built and more muscular. Guess I need to work out more if I wanna earn more.

Dammit, I can’t even get twenty bucks for a blowjob. Randy said he had plenty of rock, next time I needed a bump, but I gotta get the dough first. He ain’t gonna front the drugs anymore.

One of these faggots out here has to want to stick it in my mouth or up my ass. I’m frustrated, but not worried. I’ll find myself some desperate queer, have some fun and roll him for his wallet. Then I can visit Randy and get as high as I want.

There’s that van again. Must be the third time he’s circled the block. Asshole needs to make up his mind. C’mon, dude, pick me up. My buzz is starting to wear off; gonna need a bump real soon. I got one hit left, but I’m saving it; I may need a good anesthetic. Some of these homos are seriously hung.

He’s pulling over. Cool. Steady now, don’t look desperate. Let’s see what we got here.

He’s not bad looking. Young enough to be a powerhouse in the sack, but old enough to have some control. Late twenties or early thirties, I’d guess. Long black hair, mustache, black leather jacket over a red t-shirt sporting a beer logo. He’s even better built than the guy down the street had been; his shirt is straining tightly over his broad chest and the thick muscles on his thighs and calves bulge through his faded Levi’s. Something else, just as thick, bulges in his crotch.

I pull back for a moment. This trick might be more than I can handle. But I gotta do it if I wanna get high tonight. Besides, what’s the worst he can do? Just because he’s both bigger and stronger than me doesn’t mean he’s gonna hurt me or anything.

Sure, buddy, I’ll come along. Yeah, I’ll blow ya. But I ain’t going back to your place. Make a left at the next light; there’s a cheap no-tell motel I use sometimes. Yeah, you can pay by the hour. Yeah, they take cash–they ain’t stupid, they know the place ain’t bein’ used for prayer meetings.

He slips me a twenty and I go book the room. He only wants it for an hour. Dunno why he doesn’t want to book it. Maybe he thinks I’ll get a better rate, since they know me. And I do. It’s only ten buck for the hour, but I ain’t telling the dude that–and just like that, I’ve made ten bucks. Looks like it’s gonna be a good evening.

The room is out on the end, but the john parks around the side of the building; when we get out of the van, we have to walk around the corner to get to the room. Wonder why he parked so far away. Must be worried about being seen. Lots of guys on the down-low in this place.

The room is small and nasty with a thin stained carpet. The bed sheets aren’t much better. There’s an ancient TV and a microwave with the handle broken off. The faux-wood veneer is peeling off the dresser. There are cigarette burns on damn near everything.

Well, it ain’t the bridal suite, but it’ll do for a quick fuck. I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. Time to hit the one rock I have left; I think I’ll need it.

After I smoke the crack, I break off one of the thin wires that hold the shower curtain. I straighten it into a pusher and, gingerly holding the hot glass stem; push the chore up and down to collect as much of the coke oil as I can. One last quick burn and I’m ready.

Nice thing about crack is the way it kills pain. Of course, it’ll be difficult for me to get hard, but this guy just wants to bang me, so I’m not concerned. But I wanna be high as fuck when he splits my ass with that enormous dong.

When I step out of the bathroom, he’s getting undressed. His jacket and shirt are off but he hasn’t taken off the boots or jeans yet. He stops, looks up and grins as I come forward. There’s something disquieting, almost feral in his eyes. He unzips his fly and his dick falls out like a log.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t think I’m in serious trouble, but it probably would have been easier just to mug a drunk for the money. Some of the johns out there have some extreme ideas–and I think this guy might be one of them.

But still, here we are and I’m still numb from the crack, so let’s get it over with. It doesn’t take me long to strip; I’m only wearing jeans, a concert t-shirt and sneakers. I stand nude at the foot of the bed as the john approaches. He still hasn’t taken off his jeans and his harness boots, but without his shirt, I can see his broad, smooth pecs, his strong arms–looks like there’s a skull tattooed on his right shoulder–and his flat abs with a light coat of black fur.

He stands in front of me, sneering, not speaking a word. Suddenly, he spits in my face. “What the fuck–” I start. I’m not given the chance to finish. He punches me in the face, hard.

Oh shit. I’m on my back on the bed, still seeing spots. This asshole decked me and I never saw it coming. If he thinks he’s getting away with–


Fuck, he’s raping me. No fucking lube—he’s killing me–I gotta get him off, I gotta push him–what the hell? What’s wrong with my arms?

When did he tie them behind me? I don’t remember that–was I unconscious? He must’ve knocked me out oh shit he’s shoving it in again GET OUT OF ME IT HURTS IT HURTS…

He’s pinned me to the bed and spread my legs apart. I can clamp them together around his hard body, but I can’t get them under him to push him up and off. And with my hands bound behind me…

I’m helpless. I can’t move; I have to lie here and take whatever it is he wants to do to me.

I don’t want to look into his face, but it’s unavoidable. What I see there make my heart sink. I’ve never seen such a cold, hard look of hate. He likes hurting me. Oh shit.

“Please don’t hurt me, man, I’ll do anything you want,” I plead. Shit, I’m so scared. He sneers and I see movement out of the corner of my eye–then I’m awash in pain. He hit me again, so fast I couldn’t see it.

Dizzy. Pain. Oh god I hurt he’s splitting me open that can’t be his cock he’s raping me with a beer bottle or something his cock can’t be that big–WHAM!

Spots dancing in front of my eyes. He keeps punching me. I look into his face and again see his rage, his anger as he spits on me. He drives his fist into my stomach, leaving me gasping for air and wallowing in pain.

But he never misses a single stroke in my ass. As bad as his blows hurt, they’re nothing compared to the way he’s tearing open my fuckhole. And I don’t think he’s even shoved his dick all the way in yet.

Oh fuck please god if you’re there get me out of this I’ll never do crack again I’ll never steal or whore myself out oh please oh fuck I promise just let me go I promise–

He sits up on his knees and grabs my ankles. Brutally yanking my legs up, he bends over me, utterly dominating me. I can’t see or feel anything else but him and his sexual rage. With a loud grunt, he completely inserts his cock in my ass and starts fucking me like a wild animal.


I scream. I can’t help it; I’m in too much pain. Somewhere deep inside, I realize I’m screaming like a little girl and it shames me but I can’t stop; it hurts too bad. I can feel him, fuck, no one has ever been this deep inside me oh shit another thrust OH GOD STOP YOU’RE HURTING ME YOU’RE RIPPING ME APART I CAN FEEL YOUR COCK IN MY GUTS–

What…what…another blow to the face…everything went dark…I can taste blood…

He’s gonna kill me. He’s hurt me too much to let me go. He’s gonna hafta kill me. Oh fuck no I don’t wanna die dude I was just gonna suck you off and get a little money I just wanted to get high I wasn’t supposed to die tonight in this shitty room oh god not another thrust OH FUCK THE PAIN IT HURTS SO BAD OH FUCK OH FUCK I’M SCREAMING AGAIN–

He rears up on his knees again. Oh god, I’m so grateful for the pause, the break from the pain. I can only lie here and gasp, blubbering, tears and snot and blood covering my face, agonized sweat oozing out of every pore, as he starts whispering to me.

“Goddam whore. Making too much noise, well, I’ll fix that, you bitch.” As he speaks, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, pulling it out of the loops and holding it up. It’s thick black leather, with metal studs. He leers down at me as he wraps the leather strap around my neck…

No. No. Keep it away. Don’t do this. Please, oh fuck, please don’t. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can do what you want to me and I won’t say anything, just please don’t kill me–

Hands in my hair, roughly pulling my head up off the bed. I feel the warm embrace of the leather belt on the back of my neck and start sobbing uncontrollably. No, it’s not over, I’m not ready to die, this isn’t happening it’s just bad drugs please god let this just be a bad trip I’m not supposed to get fucked to death in a sleazy motel tight it’s so fucking tight–

Air oh dear god I need air he’s on me and in me and I can’t move and I can’t breathe he’s just using me oh fuck look at the rage in that face he wants me dead oh god I can’t breathe he wants to breed me and kill me–

No no no let me up please oh fuck I can’t get him off my legs slide uselessly over his sweaty flanks I can feel his body flex with each horrible agonizing pump in my ass my hands I can’t feel my hands they’re bound too tight that rushing sound in my head–

Pain oh shit so much pain my throat my head my ass I’m gonna puke I’m gonna barf oh fuck I can’t

Roaring in my ears I can’t hear anything he’s talking to me but I can’t hear him he spitting on me again my tongue is swelling it’s filling my mouth

Cracking crunching in my throat oh god pain didn’t know such pain existed

Fading everything roaring in my ears is failing light is fading dim and dark

His cock I can still feel his cock it’s filling me my cock is tingling too why am I getting hard

cold oh fuck death is so cold icy fingers gripping me in the darkness his cum it feels like hot lava inside me hold on to it hold on to the warmth the last spark of life in the cold darkness

my dick it hurts it’s spasming and shooting so hard it hurts going dark I’ve never cum this hard it’s all going black I wasn’t supposed to get raped and strangled he’s still grunting and thrusting

going everything is going away

spewing so hard it feels like I’m cumming razor blades

hot spunk still burning in my ass no no not dead yet not dead ye

Victim POV 2–Pig’s Point of View

Damn, I’ve been out here for hours. Good thing it’s summer; at least I’m not freezing. But it looks like it’s gonna rain soon and I’m getting frustrated.

What’s a guy gotta do to get fucked around here?

I ain’t looking to make any money–at least, not now. Still got some dough left from that last BJ I gave. I just want a fat mushroom head shoved down my throat or up my ass. I’m not picky; just horny. It’s a weeknight, though, and there just aren’t many guys out looking for a hole to use.

And that’s a shame; I really fucking want to be used.

Might as well head home. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Guess I can call Jimmy to come over and give me a workout, if he’s not too drunk to get it up–

Hold on, that van just turned around. Maybe I will get lucky, after all. He’s pulling up now; even from the curb, I can see that he’s got one hand in his lap, moving rhythmically.

Looks like I’m finally gonna get my hole plugged. Let’s see what the cards dealt me–I approach the van for a closer look.

Goddam, this one’s hot. Mid- to late twenties, I’d say, with shoulder-length black hair and a black mustache. He pops open the passenger door and I can see him a bit more clearly under the dome light. He’s taller than me and a bit larger. Very well built–he looks like he’s got the muscles of a body builder. There’s something disconcerting about his pale blue eyes, but I don’t care, not given the size of the hog outlined in his crotch and running down his leg.

He’s wearing a black leather bomber jacket over a plain white t-shirt. His tight jeans are old and faded; under the frayed cuffs, he’s sporting black harness boots.

“Whaddaya lookin’ for?” I ask.

He grins and unzips his fly, slowly pulling out his huge tube of meat. “Blow me, faggot. Gimme head while I drive back to my place and when we get there I’m gonna fuck you like you ain’t never been fucked before.”

His deep voice makes my dick hard. I climb in. As he puts the van in gear, I bend down and put my lips around his swollen head, deeply inhaling the musk of mansex. He places his hand on the back of my head and shoves; instantly, his massive cock is thrust down my throat, gagging me. His dark pubic scratches my face as I struggle to breathe.

I love it, having his massive rod rammed down my windpipe. And I think he knows it.

“Yeah, that’s it, cocksucker, work my dick. Get it nice and hard so I can stick it up your fuckhole,” he sneers. Not like I have to be told twice. I run my tongue over the bulging veins and lick at the rosebud just under the head, making the john moan in pleasure.

During the drive, he facefucks me, grabbing a hank of my hair to force my head up and down his thick rod. As his massive hairy sack smears across my face, I open my mouth wide and start sucking his large velvety balls.

I keep my face in his crotch all the way back to his apartment–I didn’t see any of the drive, so I don’t know where we are. I don’t even know this dude’s name, not that I care. I know he’s got a monster dong and my eager chute is quivering in anticipation of getting impaled by that enormous dick.

Watching him stuff it back into those skin-tight jeans is like watching a magic trick. If I hadn’t seen it come outta there in the first place, I’d never have believed it’d go back in.

As we cross the parking lot, I cast surreptitious glances at his face out of the corners of my eyes. He’s quiet, this one. Full lips, but they’re compressed into a tight line. There’s something hard about this guy; something undefinable but somehow scary…

It turns me on.

When we get inside, he takes off his leather jacket and his t-shirt. He leaves his jeans and boots on, pulling his cock out again.

“Get over here, you fucking whore,” he snaps, “I want you on your knees. Now!”

I hasten to obey. I kneel in front of him, this stud, this god leering down at me. Holy fuck, he’s built; a broad, smooth chest, a faint trail of fur leading down his six-pack abs like an arrow pointing to the dark erotic secrets hidden below his waistband. His biceps are huge and the tufts of black hair in his pits add to his heady man-scent.

I sit up on my knees, mouth open, waiting to be skullfucked, but he isn’t quite ready. First, he wants to put me in my place.

“Yeah, look at you, you fucking cocksucking homo. Think you’re ready for my cock? You ain’t man enough for it, faggot!” He grabs my hair again and, roughly jerking my head back, spits twice in my face. With his free hand, he begins dickslapping me in the face. Damn, he can swing that huge tool with great force; it actually hurts.

And it makes me hard. I am so fucking ready to be this dude’s bitch.

Suddenly, his fingers scrabble roughly in my mouth; before I realize what’s happening, he pries my jaws open and forces his thick purple head back down my throat. “Fuckin’ choke on it, you piece of shit,” he whispers as his hands force my head further down onto his thickly-veined shaft.

Christ, this thing’s like a log. It completely plugs my throat; I can’t breathe at all. Oh shit–I can deep-throat as well as the next guy, but I gotta know it’s coming. I haven’t had time to inhale. And he’s forced me all the way down. My nose is crushed into his pubic hair.

What the fuck is going on? He’s not thrusting; he’s just clamping my face into his crotch with painful pressure. What–

Oh shit, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Fuck, I gotta get him outta me, I’m choking to death on his cock. He’s not letting me up!

I’m pressing against his thighs as hard as I can, trying to push him away. Goddam, dude, let go–I seriously can’t fucking breathe!

And then I hear him whisper–very faintly–“Fuck yeah, meat…”

Oh god oh god I know that word I’ve heard stories he’s gonna kill me on jesus oh god–

I gotta get off I gotta get him off now I’m gagging get off get off GET OFF OH FUCK YOUR COCK IS CHOKING ME GET OFF–

I finally succeed in pushing him away; I don’t know where the burst of strength comes from–probably panic. His dick swelled so much while it was plugging my gullet, it hurt coming out, reaming out my throat and leaving a thick salty trail of precum down the length of my tongue.

This is filed in the back of my mind, though. I gotta figure out how to get outta here. This guy’s a fucking psycho. He called me ‘meat’. Just fucking me won’t get him off; he wants to waste me too. I heard about guys like this; if you fuck random strangers, there’s always a chance of running into one.

I can usually take care of myself, but this guy is both bigger and stronger than me. He can really fucking hurt me if he wants to–and I don’t think I can stop him.

And I know he wants to. I don’t want to look at him, to see the triumph in those ice-cold eyes, the razor-sharp lust that sees me as a disposable fucktoy. But I look anyway. I can’t resist.

Oh god, I’m so scared.

He’s beautiful. I’d do anything for him. I tell him. “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just tell me. Do you want to drag me around on a leash and piss on me in public? Please do it–just don’t kill me. I’ll be your complete fuck slave, anything you want if you let me live–anything!” Oh shit, I’m so scared, I’m sobbing the entire time.

Oh fuck, he likes that. He likes my begging. He knows he’s got control of the situation.

And that’s when he makes his move.

He leaps at me–I scream, shrilly, and try to move away, but I’m still on my knees and I simply fall over backwards. And then he’s on me.

Goddam, I gotta get out from under him. I turn over and try to wriggle out, but he gets my arm and twists it behind my back.

Shit that hurts fuck ok ok I’m getting up stop it it hurts stop it–

But he doesn’t stop it. With his other hand, he reaches around and grabs my throat so tightly I can’t speak. I’m completely helpless in his arms; they grip me like bands of iron.

He’s manhandling me into the bedroom. Oh fuck, what’s he gonna do to me oh please oh god–

He lets go of my throat. As I inhale deeply, gratefully, he jerks my other hand behind me and I feel a painful pinching sensation at the wrists. He’s bound my hands behind me with a zip tie. I cry out; it’s way too tight. He spins me around quickly; I see his fist coming at me but there’s no time–

Jesus Christ he split my fucking lips he’s talking what the fuck is he saying?

“Told ya I’d fuck ya like ya ain’t been fucked before, didn’t I,” he snarls, “and I know no one’s fucked ya like this before cause you’re still alive.”

He grabs something off the dresser. It’s a knife, large, serrated, ugly—

There’s a screaming sound somewhere. I think it’s me. I know that warm wet feeling down my legs is me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve pissed myself and can feel it pooling in my boots it doesn’t matter he’s gonna hit me again if I can’t stop screaming but I can’t I can’t–

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++

I’m on my back. My head hurts. My jaw hurts. I can taste blood. Something sticky on my face that’s blood too what the fuck is going on with my legs—

I’ve been unconscious. He didn’t kill me. He didn’t stab me thank you god thank you jesus he didn’t hurt me with the knife—

I open my eyes. He’s right in front of me, grinning. He’s having a great time, the psycho. It takes me a second before I notice I’m almost completely nude. He’s used his knife to cut my clothes off; he’s just now cutting away the last bit of my piss-soaked jeans. I was commando under them, in the hopes of getting fucked—

Oh god oh fuck what happened I just wanted some dick just wanted to swallow some cum take a load up the ass I wasn’t supposed to die tonight I was just gonna have some fun what happened—

Suddenly, he flips me over. All I can see is the edge of the bed and the wall. My hands, completely numb by now, are still bound behind me. He’s got my ass pointed in the air–


Something slips past my eyes and tightens around my throat—

He’s in me oh jesus he’s in so far so deep he’s hurting me he’s tearing my guts open oh fuck it hurts oh fuck I CAN’T BREATHE—

I can’t move my hands are useless fuck that can’t be his cock he’s shoved a spear up my ass he can’t be that big I CAN’T BREATHE—

He’s saying something I can hear words faggot die cock whore fuck die choke I CAN’T BREATHE—

Oh god the pain my head is exploding my tongue what the fuck my tongue is growing it’s filling my mouth and poking out I wanna puke I’m gonna vomit but it’s blocked oh fuck my eyes what the fuck is happening to my eyes I CAN’T BREATHE—

Buzzing and popping the world is full of buzzing and popping I CAN’T BREATHE I can’t breathe—

My dick I can’t breathe I’m going numb but I can feel my cock it’s hard it’s straining so bad it hurts I can’t feel anything but searing pain IT HURTS MY CHEST MY LUNGS MY ASS MY COCK IT HURTS—

He’s on me and in me I am utterly his utterly in his power he has mastered me I will never belong to anyone else only him I am ready to receive what he will give–

It hurts yes it hurts so good it all flows it all flows out of my cock my life I feel it I feel him I feel it flow out of him into me his soul his seed his cum as it flows out of me into the universe my soul my seed my cum it flows together thank you for showing me this I didn’t know it would be like this thank you

dark and cold there’s a stream of fire inside me all else is dark and cold

Victim POV 1


My head hurts. What’s happening? I don’t know what’s going on…

There was a guy. A trick. I was gonna suck him off. He picked me up, I was in his car—that’s the last thing I remember.

My head hurts bad. Did he hit me?

He was just few years older than me and he told me how much he liked the tight jeans I was wearing. Even liked these new Nikes I got.

He’s got longer hair than I do and he’s just wearing a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Looks like he’s got work boots on. Thought he was they typical construction worker. They can get rough sometimes; maybe he started punching me.

So why am I tied down? What’s he doing? I can’t remember—it’s all fuzzy in my head—but I don’t think I’d started blowing him yet.

He’s leaning over me now; I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a hard, cold face before. Oh fuck, I’m in real trouble. This guy’s gonna hurt me bad.

Not just that he wants to do it. A lot of my johns want to hurt me. But most of them can’t do it, no matter how much they want to.

This guy can, I can tell.

Please don’t, dude, please. I’ll do anything. Just tell me. Please, for fuck’s sake, just don’t hurt me.

Oh shit. He likes that. Christ, that smile is terrifying.

This hurts; I’m tied to a chair. He’s sitting on my lap. He’s unzipped my fly and pulled my dick out but otherwise, I’m fully dressed and so is he.

Wanna fuck me, buddy? Please fuck me. Stick it in any hole on my body, just please don’t hurt me. Oh god, please just let me out of this. I’m so scared. Please.

I’m crying; I can’t help it. I don’t know what he’s gonna do to me, but I don’t think I’m getting out of here. Nobody knows I’m here and I can’t move at all. I’m completely helpless.

What the fuck—duct tape. He slaps duct tape across my mouth. I can’t plead any more.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck I can’t scream I can’t do anything oh shit help let me out let me out oh fuck budd what’s happening I was just gonna swallow your cum

He’s got his dick out now, too. Oh my god it’s huge. Swollen, red and dripping. I can feel it nudging mine. Whatever he’s gonna do, he’s really gonna enjoy it. Oh fucking jesus what is he gonna do to me—

–a length of rope, white nylon rope. He’s gonna strangle me–

Please no oh fucking god no I don’t wanna die please no please don’t do this please no jesus christ someone help me someone stop this fucker holy shit I’m pissing myself PLEASE DEAR GOD NO DON’T KILL ME PLEASE—

Oh my god the pain it’s crushing my throat the pressure in my head building oh fuck it hurts so bad oh god I didn’t know I was gonna die today I didn’t know it would hurt so bad so why is my dick getting hard

he likes it he’s tightened the rope around one hand what’s he doing

his dick and my dick; he’s beating us off simultaneously

fireworks they look just like fireworks but they’re black that sound is too loud I can’t hear anything else

oh his snarling face and hate-filled eyes that stare into mine, even in the pain I can see them clearly

he wants me to die so he can cum and I can’t stop him he’s killing me just so he can get his rocks off but I’m getting hard too what’s happening

gah nothing but his eyes and my cock I can feel chest it wants to explode and my throat is crushed oh god I can feel my
trachea crunch beneath the rope as he clenches his steel-hard muscles I can’t stop him I can’t

oh fucking god it feels like molten steel flowing out of my cock

fading fading oh god the fiery pain in my dick am I cumming

orgasm fuck fuck I love you thank you never cum like this ever

oh fuck he’s shot his wad too it burns just like mine

dark its dark and cold