Warning: this story contains graphic rape and murder. Don't read it if this isn't your cup of tea.
Conversely, if this is your cup of tea, so much so that you think you should try hurting someone in real life, please reconsider, as you are too stupid to get away with it and too soft for prison, where you will be raped more savagely than even my twisted mind could imagine.
If, however, you are somewhere in the middle, then please enjoy...
Margie was always on the lookout for new talent, so when she saw the young woman in the grocery store parking lot she did a quick check for security cameras, then approached her.
“Excuse me, young lady,” she said, “I came here on the bus and now I’ve missed the return trip. Would it be too much trouble to ask you for a ride?”
The girl turned around. Margie surveyed her quickly: long, shapely legs inside a pair of short running shorts, slender frame but with fully formed breasts, beautiful dark eyes and a pretty smile. Marcie saw only dollar signs.
“Umm…” the girl said. “How far is it?”
“Not far, dear. I’ll pay you for gas.”
Margie had a very non-threatening appearance. At sixty years old, she was able to play a grandmotherly figure quite convincingly for the twenty-something or younger women her clientele desired. It was why she was so good at her job.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to do that,” the girl said. “You can put your groceries in the trunk.”
As they drove, Margie asked some polite questions. It was more than just small talk: she was trying to calculate how much money the girl would fetch her. “You said your name was Anna?” she asked.
The girl nodded.
“You remind me of my niece. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
“I’ll be twenty in September.”
“So young… Do you have any children?”
“No. I’m not really looking to start a family yet.”
That meant no stretch marks, and a higher payoff. “You shouldn’t. You’ve got plenty of time for that later,” she lied.
As they approached the studio, she called the producer on her cell phone. “Hi honey,” she said, “I’m on my way back from the store. I missed my bus but a nice young woman offered me a lift.”
The man on the other end spoke for a few seconds.
“Yes, yes. I picked up some great looking meat I think you’ll enjoy.”
More chatter from the other end.
“Okay. Love you.”
Thirty minutes later they pulled into the driveway. “You really live out in nowheresville,” said Anna.
“Yes, I guess it’s a longer drive than I thought,” replied Margie. They had spent most of the trip on dusty unused back-roads. “My husband and I like the seclusion. We know no one will bother us out here.”
As she was getting her groceries out of the trunk, Margie had one more favor to ask the girl. “I hate to be a bother –you’ve been so kind already- but would you mind helping me with these?”
There was a twenty-yard walk to the house. Anna appeared to want to leave, but she agreed to help with the bags. As they stepped onto the porch, the front door opened and a man twenty years younger than Margie stepped out and hastily ushered everyone inside. A second later followed the sound of a deadbolt
Immediately Bosch’s men were on the girl. They tackled her to the floor and within ten seconds had her gagged with her hands cuffed behind her back, a 9mm pressed against her temple. She could only whimper, confused and scared.
“You could have let her put down my groceries first,” remarked Margie as she inspected her broken eggs.
Bosch looked the girl over. “I think you’ll be able to afford more eggs.” He looked at one of his men. “Bring Tucker,” he said, and the man ran off. “The rest of you, get her up on the table. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” The men lifted her, struggling, and laid her out on the kitchen table.
“Hold her still!” Bosch cried as she kicked wildly. When she was secure, a man holding each leg and another at her head with a gun, Bosch began to inspect her. She was wearing a tight fitting tee shirt that said “TASTY” across the chest. With a smirk, Bosch pushed the shirt up over her breasts. The girl was crying pathetically now, but he paid no mind. With the eye of a connoisseur, he ran his hands gently but firmly over her firm, flat belly.
“Did anyone see you with her?” he asked.
“Of course not.”
He pushed Anna’s bra up, exposing her breasts. He kneaded them between his fingers, testing for imperfections. “She certainly is a pretty one,” he said.
At that moment Tucker joined them. “Who’s this?” he asked.
“Your next co-star. Margie found her for us.” Satisfied with her breasts, he moved on to her lower body. Grabbing hold of the elastic waistband of her shorts, he pulled them down to her knees. She fought wildly, freeing her legs for a moment and drawing them up to her chest in an attempt to protect her loins. The men grabbed her by the ankles, pushed he knees apart, and soon had her prone again. Bosch continued his examination, probing thumb and forefinger into her resistant vagina.
“Nnnnn! Nnnnn!” she cried through her gag.
“How should we snuff her?” Bosch asked, looking at Margie.
She looked bored. “Up to you,” she shrugged. “I’ve done my part.”
He extracted his fingers from her pussy and popped them into her anus. “Well, you’ll be happy to know she’s tight,” he said to Tucker. “In both holes.” He looked back at Margie. “How does twelve thousand sound?”
“Not to be greedy, but I was thinking more like fifteen. This is grade A girlflesh right here.”
Bosch looked hard at the girl. “She’d better die well. Okay, fifteen.” He looked at his men. “Take her to the studio. We’re going to do this now.”
The studio was buzzing as the camera and lighting crews finished up their work. A pair of burly security officers held Anna by each arm, even though her hands were still cuffed behind her back. She was still fully clothed. Bosch was of the belief that a victim should always be disrobed onscreen. Not only was it a turn-on for the audience, but also her clothes could be sold as souvenirs to a few rich fetishists. Between the girl’s panties, shorts, shoes, tee shirt, even her ankle bracelet and earrings, Bosch estimated he could make another couple grand.
“We’re ready when you are,” said the lead cameraman.
The security men dragged the girl to the middle of the room, where they threw her to the floor. Two cameramen began circling her at a distance of a few yards. The rest of the crew hung farther back.
Bosch looked at Tucker, who was putting on his mask. “You’ll be using this,” he said, handing him a straight razor.
Tucker nodded. He strode purposefully toward the girl, brandishing the razor. She clumsily got to her feet but he grabbed her by the hair.
“Lets start by getting that gag out,” Bosch directed.
“Hold still,” said Tucker as he unfastened the gag. Anna took advantage of the distraction to break away from him, making straight for one of the cameramen.
“Help me!” she cried. “Don’t let them do this to me!”
The cameraman was unsympathetic. He kept his distance, but continued filming.
“Let’s get that shirt off her,” said Bosch. “Use the razor if you can. And take your time.”
Tucker grabbed her from behind. Putting one arm around her throat, he slid the razor under her tee shirt, the cold steel grazing her abdomen and chest.
“Shit!” she cried.
Tucker then cut through the thin cotton from the inside out. It was difficult, as the girl was struggling, but he was strong. He finished by ripping the shirt the rest of the way open with his hands, leaving only rags handing from her shoulders.
“Make sure we get a close up of those tits,” said Bosch. “Hold her still for Christ’s sake!”
“Should I start cutting skin?” asked Tucker.
Bosch thought for a moment. “Let’s get a BJ first. Our German friend won’t buy anything without a BJ.”
“Suits me,” said Tucker.
Bosch brought a box of toys and laid it at Anna’s feet. Her eyes fearfully took in the objects of torture within: a cattle prod, a garrote, a drill, various knives. Bosch wasn’t looking for these yet. All he needed was a mouth clamp. Finding one, he looked back at Tucker and nodded. Tucker punched the girl in the stomach and she keeled over, wheezing. “Open up, Sweetie,” said Bosch, prying her mouth open. Her slippery tongue reflexively tried to push the clamp out, but Bosch had done this before and soon had it fitted nicely. “There you go,” he said to Tucker. “You should be safe now.”
“Is it worker’s comp if she bites my dick off?” Tucker asked, a joke he always made. Pushing Anna to her knees, he pulled his pants down, revealing a full erection.
“Rub it against her face first,” directed Bosch. Then, to the cameraman, he said, “I want a close up of her head for this whole scene.”
Tucker did as he was told, rubbing his cock against her cheek. She turned away in disgust, but couldn’t avoid the contact. He ran it over her forehead, down her nose, over her exposed teeth, then under her chin. A tiny driblet of pre-cum appeared just under her eye and quickly dried.
“Okay,” said Bosch. “Stick it in.”
With that, Tucker grabbed the back of the girl’s head with both hands so she couldn’t pull away, then pushed his cock past her lips and into her mouth. She recoiled violently, but he didn’t slip out at all. Gripping her hair as close to the roots as possible, he began to pull her head violently forward and back while simultaneously thrusting his hips. A nonconsensual blowjob is a difficult thing to do well, but these people were professionals. Tucker fucked the girl’s wet mouth for five minutes, his cock pushing the inside of her cheeks out, before he felt himself starting to cum. He knew without being told what shot they needed to get, so at the last moment he pulled out and came for the camera, splattering sticky goo over Anna’s face.
“And… Cut!” remarked Bosch. “Clean her up for the next round,” he said to an assistant. “We’ll let Mr. Tucker rest up for a half hour before we resume. I hope you’ve taken your Viagara today, Tucker, because I need you to cum in this bitch twice more before you kill her. And maybe once after. For fifteen thousand, I’m going to make damn sure I get my money’s worth.”
Margie had missed the first act of the show because she was making sure the money was properly deposited into her bank account. Satisfied that the transaction was complete, she returned to the studio. It was a slow day and she had nothing better to do. She was looking for Bosch when she heard someone call her name. It was the girl. She was handcuffed to a pipe in the ceiling, completely nude. Her eyes were wide with hope or terror, Margie couldn’t tell which.
“Well, Hello,” said Margie. She couldn’t remember the girl’s name.
“Please help me,” the girl pleaded. “Don’t let them rape me again!”
“Oh… Sweetie,” Margie replied softly, wiping a tear from the girl’s face with her thumb, “that should be the least of your worries.”
The girl started crying. “What are they going to do to me?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question. They’re going to fuck you ‘till they’ve had their fill, then they’ll probably torture you, and then they’ll kill you.”
Tears were streaming down her face. “But why?” she asked in a shaking voice. “Why?”
“Money,” Margie answered simply. “You’re a commodity. A short term investment.”
“I can pay you if you help me,” the girl started to say, but Margie cut her off.
“The money I’ve made from Mr. Bosch has put my children through college. I’m not about to jeopardize our relationship.”
“But, but…” the girl couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re a woman! How can you do this?”
Margie thought for a moment. “I’m a businesswoman.”
Just then Bosch appeared with a security guard. “Bring her,” he said to the guard. “We’re ready.”
“Mind if I watch?” Margie asked.
“Of course not, my dear. Glad you could join us.”
They led Anna back to the studio. Tucker was waiting, his manhood having recovered from their last excursion. Someone had drug a dirty old mattress into the middle of the room.
“We’ll go for the ass this time,” said Bosch. “And feel free to get rough with her. Don’t kill her yet, but have some fun.”
“Can do,” said Tucker. He led the terrified girl to the mattress and pushed her onto her stomach. Then he sat on her legs so she couldn’t move. She had a firm, round little ass, and Tucker began to massage it, pulling the cheeks apart and finally probing the rectum with his fingers. He unsheathed the straight-razor and looked at Bosch, who merely nodded. With that, he placed the razor against her left buttock and slowly pulled it down toward her thigh. The razor sunk an inch deep into her flesh, and Anna screamed her first real scream of the night. Tucker took a moment to admire the wound, pushing it apart to get a better view. Despite all the blood, he could clearly see the meat of the girl’s ass.
“Good,” said Bosch. “Now keep that up, but start fucking her.”
Tucker pushed the head of his cock against the girl’s ass and slowly pushed it in. As he sodomized her, he continued to cut her. Digging the razor into her ribcage, he sliced a path all the way to the small of her back.
“Careful not to injure her spinal cord,” said Bosch. Tucker had once accidentally paralyzed a girl in the middle of one of their shoots. The video had sold well, but the feedback from his clients had been sub-standard.
Tucker continued to rape her, taking periodic breaks so he wouldn’t cum, for another ten minutes. Evidently, Bosch thought this was enough anal footage, because he directed Tucker to “flip her over.” Tucker gladly complied. For all of his bizarre sexual experience, he was still a missionary man at heart.
This was especially true when he snuffed girls; he liked to look into their eyes as they died. Spreading her legs, he roughly shoved himself into Anna’s cunt and began to work up a nice rhythm.
“Mmm… that’s good pussy,” said Tucker, clearly enjoying himself. After a couple of minutes he was really getting into it, and he started talking to the girl. “You’re about to die, sweetheart,” he panted. “I’m going to eat your heart.”
“Not literally, I trust,” said Bosch.
“I’m going to feast on you,” continued Tucker. “You are prey for my cock! And for my knife!”
“How melodramatic,” whispered Margie to Bosch.
“Yeah, but he backs it up,” he replied.
After five minutes of straight fucking, Bosch said, “Whenever you’re ready, Tucker.”
Tucker was ready. As he continued to grind his cock into the helpless girl, he brought the razor to her chest. He punctured her flesh at the clavicle, then drew the razor downward, slicing through inches of fatty breast meat. Through a combination of skill and luck he was able to bisect the breast perfectly, cutting through the nipple in the middle. The girl now had three breasts.
“Get a close-up of that,” instructed Bosch.
Tucker then turned his attention to the girl’s smooth, flat stomach. He cut into her navel, planning to disembowel her. But suddenly he realized that he was going to cum within the next thirty seconds. He didn’t have time to gut her, so instead he brought the razor to her neck. Pistoning his cock into her as fast as he could, he pushed the blade with all of his strength into her soft throat. There was a popping sensation and a spray of blood. He felt his orgasm approaching. Using the razor like a saw, he cut back and forth until the girl’s windpipe was completely severed, her throat cut from ear to ear. Looking into her glassy eyes he came, emptying his balls into her dead womb.
Bosch approached to admire his handiwork. The girl was nearly decapitated. The razor had cut into her spinal cord and now her head was hanging loosely from her neck. Putting his hands on her temples, he twisted until it came all the way off. He gave the head a deep, passionate kiss, then tossed it aside.
The medical team quickly arrived with their cooler and began working on the body. Their job was to harvest the organs for sale on the black market. They slit the girl’s belly open and her intestines spilled out messily.
Bosch wasn’t quite done filming, though. There was one last scene he wanted to get, and he knew he would have to be the one to perform it. As the organ harvesters continued their work, he unzipped his jeans and forced his cock into the severed windpipe where the girl’s head used to be. It was a tight fit, but there was a lot of blood for lubricant. The film ended that way, with a fade out.