WARNING: This story depicts acts of torture, rape, drug abuse, and murder. If you find this offensive or distasteful please do not read this story.
Poised for conquest. The glare on the mirror blocks her eyes. Not her lips. There’s a small wooden box covered with Rhine stones in front of her; silvery and gleaming it holds her most cherished possessions. Eyeliner, lipstick, masquera, and blush in every color from saffron to platinum, to black or purple.
The multi-colored bits of plastic and painted wood pencils jostle and shift when she reaches in to grab a few tubes of lipstick; fuschia, yellow and purple. After a few minutes her lips are glossy and sticky looking. Purple fades into the pink then yellow. Her lips look like a beautiful dying star in the center of the pale, yet gorgeous galaxy.
She plays on the arcs of her eyelashes, she teases them high; until they look like something strange, beautiful, and morbid. A flashy purple jacket lays on her bed while she slips into her orange and black striped leggings. She’s puts on a sheer black shirt with pink cherry blossoms falling to the left along side the words “Depeche Mode”.
She puts on the purple jacket and shakes her short, black, messy hair just before she puts a bright red head band on. The arch of pure elation sets perfectly atop the writhing sea of black follicles. She steps outside into the waning day. Twilight is setting in. She’s got that Friday-seven-thirty feeling in her bones, and she’s ready to make the world what she wants it to be.
The car ride is a blur of valium and oxycotton, but she has her head on straight when she gets to six-oh-nine; her favourite disco in clubland. She checks her eyes, lips, and hair in the rear view mirror before she tugs on the handle and kicks open the car door. The atmosphere of the night rushes over her with a pinch of adrenaline that subsides into a calm, warm euphoria.
Tonight will be good.
The parking lights shine down on a full lot, and the lights of the club give an aura of impatience to the fifty or sixty people lined up to get inside. She, Angela they call her, is ready to get inside. The line is not for her, and hasn’t been since she showed a bit of affection to the bouncer a few weeks ago.
She waves to him as she walks inside; he nods and winks; though its dark and he’s wearing sunglasses, so it’s a wasted gesture. Angela never liked him, but a girl needs to do what she needs to get what she wants. It had been a bit of an awkward ordeal for Angela: Though the bouncer stood easily at six foot five his penis was the smallest one she had ever seen, and it was un-circumsized... Angela think this is gross.
Its dark inside, but the spinning disco balls and flashing gelled lights give enough illumination off after your eyes have adjusted. Joy Division is blasting over the speaker system when she walks into the arena-pit that is the dance floor, she can’t remember the name of this song but she likes it.
One of the reasons that Angela and most of six-oh-nines patrons frequent their establishment is that that owner of the club is a relatively young man who doesn’t mind sex and drugs spilling around the walls like a faulty spillway.
For instance: Angela is making her way from the outer rim of the floor to the center, and on the way she sees her friend Devin sucking the enormous cock of another man who is taking hits of ecstacy. This is normal, and she waves to Devin. He sees her and waves back, then puts both of his hands around the dick and goes back to playing.
She walks on until she finds Minnie. Minnie is a small girl with a very shallow vagina who likes fucking big dicks. She finds Minnie on the other side of the dance floor, leaning on the barricade that separates the dance-floor from the circular walkway that stretches all the way around the building.
“Hey Minnie, what the fuck is up?” Angela asks.
“Nothing, kind’a worn out.” Minnie moans, rubbing her stomach.
“Why, what happened?”
“Last night I went home with this guy, and he was rougher than most. My guts hurt like a bitch.” she punctuates this sentence by rubbing her stomach again.
“Here.” Angela says hold out a palm full of blue and pinkish pills.
Minnie takes them from Angela and swallows the lot.
“And?” Angela asks playfully.
“I am assuming that you added another name to your notebook? What are the specs?”
“Oh, He said his name was Chad, but I think he was lying.”
“I don’t care about his name, you know what I want.” Angela pushes on Minnie’s shoulder.
“Well, the ruler never lies...” Minnie pauses and gives a sideways glance at Angela.
“Spit it out already.”
“He had an eleven and a half in cock. And it was just under six and a half around.”
“Whoa! That’s the biggest one yet, huh?”
“Nope.” Minnie says enigmatically.
“Chad,” she emphasizes sarcastically, “Fucked me hard, but I just got out of the bathroom with Jake.”
“And what?” Minnie says again, this time with a giggle.
“Bitch, I’m gonna smack you.”
“Twelve, straight up twelve. And seven inches around.”
“Jesus Christ.” Angela says in awe.
“You’re telling me you just got done fucking a foot long cock?”
“Yea, it ran right to the tip of the ruler. And it was the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t too veiny, no foreskin, and it had a slight downward curve.”
“God that sounds good right about...” Angela starts, but trails of mid sentence as her eyes land on a particularly delicious looking young man.
“What is it?” Minnie asks, noticing the abrupt end to Angela’s erotic comment.
“Nothing...” Angel turns away from Minnie, “I’ll, uh... Be right back.”
Angela moves toward this strange as if being drawn to him, and perhaps with was her hormones that drew her closer to him. As she gets closer though she realizes he looks even better the closer she gets.
He isn’t terrible tall, but he is gorgeous. His hair is ruffled black with a sheen of violet, he’s thin under his tight, black clothes and he has all matter of piercings over his face. His lips are small, but pouty and he has a small, slightly crooked nose. The hue of his skin could rival the surface of the silvery moon outside.
“Hey’a.” Angela says once he’s within earshot of her. At first he hesitates, then realizes that she was talking to him, so her turns to her and says “Hi.” he seems withdrawn and perhaps a bit shy; Angela find him mysterious and instantly sexy.
“I’m Angela.” she tells him.
“I’m...” he pauses to gaze at the artwork that is her lipstick, “I’m... Uhm, Marc.”
“So, Uhm Marc, I haven’t seen you around her before, did you just move?”
“Yea, I uh...” he pauses again, for the sake of her lips, “I just moved from Portland.”
“Well, I just go the feeling nobody wanted me there any more.”
“I know how that is, I live by myself and have since I was fifteen.”
“I don’t know, sometimes it does, and sometimes its great.”
“Yea, I guess. Oh, do you have anything?”
“Yea, I’ve got some OC’s and a spoon of coke, and I might have a paper of china.”
“Can I get some?” Marc asks reaching into his pocket.”
“Here,” Angela says, laying her hand over Marc pocket, “It’s on the house.”
“Cool.” Marc tells her, withdrawing his hand from his pocket.
“Come into a stall with me, we can share.” Angela says rubbing her hand over his bulging groin.
Marc blushes a little and Angela grabs his hand and pulls him into the women’s restroom.
The restroom is white a sparkling. There are at least ten girls in a row in front of the mirror, some of them are snorting coke, main-lining, or else messing with their make-up.
Angela finds an empty stall and climbs in, Marc follows her and closes the door. Angela sits on the toilet to riffle around in her purse, Marc stand in front of her watching her lips twitch while she does so.
Angela finds a joint and hands it to Marc, who takes it and lights it up. He drags on it while Angela find the OC’s and China, then she hands him the packets of dust and pills and he hands her the joint. He crushes the OC’s and pours them in with the China, then pulls a small leather wallet out of his back pocket.
Angela start to feel her head getting lighter as she watches Marc pour half of the powder into a small spoon he took out of his wallet. Marc hands Angela a length of rubber tubing then he takes out a syringe and zippo lighter.
Marc hands Angela the spoon and takes the joint back. He puffs on it while he lights the zippo and holds it under the spoon Angela is holding. The powder liquefies and starts to froth so Marc puts the syringe to it until the spoon is empty, albeit crusty.
Angela ties the tubing around her left arm and taps at the crook of her elbow with her index and middle finger. Then she takes the needle from Marc and slides it easily into the supple flesh exposed from underneath her rolled up sleeve.
She tugs on the plunger and a jet of blood oozes into the syringe, and the blood seems to stop, like it was jelly. Angela pushes in on the plunger and feels the warm start to wash over her body while Marc pours whats left in the baggie into the spoon. He lights it up, draws it in, and then he shoots it into his right arm.
Angela leans back on the toilet tank and Marc slumps against the wall of the toilet stall while the warm sensations wash over them. Angela can feel the heat moving up her jaw and cheeks, making her nose feel numb.
Marc and Angela pass the joint back and forth until its gone. Then Angela, now somewhat vacant, reaches into her purse and takes out a tiny vile of cocaine. She takes a small, thin spoon from the necklace around her neck so she can scoop the contents of the vile up with it. She snorts it up quick and then hands it all to Marc who does the same.
After the coke is done they keep smoking the joint, and then cigarettes.
“Hey Angela?” Marc asks.
“Yea?” Angela wavers slightly, feeling a bit sleepy.
“Wanna go back to my place and hang out?”
“Sure.” she tells him, being to unaware to notice the dull glint in Marc’s eye.
They gather up their stuff, and Angela rolls her sleeves back down and they step out of the stall. Angela pauses to look at herself in the mirror, then they leave six-oh-nine.
They takes Marc car back to his home, though it doesn’t really matter since the drive is just a blur, as usual. Marc’s house isn’t very far from the club, so they get there quickly. It’s a relatively nice house in what seems to be a quiet neighborhood. Though none of this really matter to Angela in the state that she’s in.
They make it to the front door so that Marc can fumble with his keys for a few minutes before he finally unlocks it. Angela and Marc shuffle inside to the living room where fall on his circular couch.
“What do you want to do?” Angela asks, and her voice sounds strange to her.
“I think I want to fuck you.” Marc tells Angela a little viciously.
“I don’t know, I just met you.” Angela reasons.
She stops to mull it over for a moment but before the thought process even starts Marc is at her and he plants his palm squarely across her face. “Look bitch,” he tells her, “I don’t give a shit if you just met me.”
Angela doesn’t really feel the pain, but the situation is a bit sobering.
“I’m leaving.” Angela tells him, getting up from the couch.
Marc pushes her back onto the couch and tells Angela “I went to that piece of shit club looking for a little slice of pussy like you, and I don’t give a fuck whether you want to give it to me or not.”
“Look,” Angela starts, trying to remain calm, “This isn’t cool, you’re being a dick.”
“Yea, I am, and I’m either going to fuck you, or I’m going to kill you and then fuck you.” he tells her, slapping her again.
At this Angela tries to stand up again, but Marc grab ahold of her throat with both hands and forces her onto the floor beside the couch. Angela struggles but before too long she slips out of reality and into the veil of darkness.
Marc picks her up and carries her into his bedroom.
Haze clouds Angela’s eyes and handcuffs hold her tight when she comes to a few moments later. At first she thinks she’s back at her apartment then she realizes that the Robert Smith poster is missing from the ceiling. She looks around at a blank room.
Her hands and feet are cuffed to their respective bedposts and she looks to her left and sees the door to the hallway and another door that leads to a bathroom. She can see Marc’s back, he’s leaning forward over his sink, looking into his mirror.
Angela struggles for a moment and find out that there is a clear plastic tarp underneath her, and she can’t get away. The sensation of doom sets in when Marc walks into the room with forceps in one hand and a small plastic packet in the other.
“Awake?” Marc asks.
“Let me go!” Angela explodes at him.
“Listen, I told you this is how it was gonna happen. Be a good girl and you’ll get to go home tonight, I promise.”
“Fuck you, let me go you asshole.”
“No.” Marc tells her.
“What about all of those people who saw us leave the club together?”
“Yea fucking right, everyone at that club were so fucking trashed they wouldn’t recognize their own mothers, let alone some guy they’ve never even seen before.”
Angela starts to feel hopeless and says “Please let me go, I’ll have sex with you, just let me go.”
“I want to do a lot more than just have sex, bitch.” Marc tells her with an evil, toothy grin.
Marc moves across the room and stands beside the bed, looking over Angela. He sets the forceps and plastic package on the bed beside her and he gets onto his knees and reaches under his bed. He pulls out a box that Angela can’t quite see and he pulls out a pair of tailor’s scissors.
He sets to cutting Angela’s clothes off as she writhes and tries to struggle from. Getting fed up with the fuss he tells Angela that if she doesn’t stop fucking around he’s going to slash her throat and fuck her while she bleeds out. So she calms.
After Marc cuts off Angela’s shirt and stockings he cuts off her skirt. He throws the bits of cloth in a pile where he put her jacket and shoes earlier. He pauses to look over Angela body, imagining what she looks like under her bra and panties. Then he picks up the small plastic package.
Angela’s heart sinks when Marc pulls several smaller plastic packages that have what look like really thick needles out from the original package. He unwraps a needle and picks up his forceps. Marc climbs onto the bed and straddles Angela, then he reaches down a grabs ahold of her lower lip.
He pauses to admire the gloss and glitter on Angela’s lip, then he stretches it out and grabs ahold of the center of it with his forceps. Angela winces at his none too gentle touch. Marc takes the newly unwrap needles and puts the point on the underside of Angela’s lip. He lines the needle up, Angela tenses, and then he pushes the needle through Angela’s soft lips.
A little blood squirts out into Angela’s mouth and she clenches her teeth. Marc takes the forceps off of Angela’s lip, but leaves the needle. He unwraps another needle and grabs the left side of her lower lip. He stretches it out and clamps down on it with the forceps. He shoves another needle through. There’s no blood this time, but Angela cries out.
Marc smiles and unwraps another needle. He grabs the right side of Angela lip and does the same thing again. Tears stream down Angela soft, pale face, and her make-up starts to run. Marc drinks it all up. He leans down and licks the underside of her lips, lapping at the blood, and rolling his tongue around the foreign metal shoved through Angela’s face. She sobs even harder at this.
Marc laughs while he picks his scissors back up and cuts the middle of Angela’s bra so it falls to either side. Her breast are perky and ripe, her nipples are perfectly round and pink. He leans over and starts licking on her left nipple. Licking turns to biting, and then chewing. He pulls back and grabs ahold of her left nipple and stretches it out, so he can clamp on it with his forceps.
When Marc put the needle up to the forceps Angela felt the point and she started writhing and wiggling, trying to get free, or at least away. Marc slapped her in the face and said “You really want to be thrashing around when I stab this through your fucking tit? This could be a big mess if you don’t sit still, you fucking whore.”
Angela started to calm down, but before she really could Marc shoved the needle through her nipple. Angela screamed out and started sobbing even harder, the drugs were masking the pain, but for some reason Angela couldn’t focus on anything but the pain.
Angela clenches her teeth while Marc unwraps another needle and puts the forceps on her other nipple. Again flesh tears and gives way to a colder, more evil type of metal. Angela starts moving around again whenever Marc grabs her top lip. This upsets Marc.
Marc climbs off the bed, and after a moment of looking over his new piece of art he takes off his pants and shirt and socks, and climbs back on top of Angela. He uses his scissors to cut Angela’s panties off, he does it hurriedly and he cuts in to Angela’s skin with the scissors. Angela winces at this, but starts to panic when she looks down and see Marc hard dick.
Marc reaches up to Angela’s face and rubs his fingers in the blood running down from her lip until his hand is dripping in blood. He takes his bloody and and reaches down to Angela’s dry pussy. He sticks his fingers in and starts to work them around, using the blood for lubrication.
At the idea of being raped Angela starts thrashing harder than ever. Torture is one thing, but rape is something worse, something more primal and evil. Marc smacks Angela in the mouth so that the needles twist and poke her in the face and cheeks. Several tiny drops of blood manifest on Angela’s tear soaked, fear ridden face.
Marc starts to finger fuck Angela’s loose little pussy with his bloody fingers. He moves his fingers in and out, slowly at first, looking at the bloody mess dripping and undulate. Angela’s tears start flowing again whenever Marc starts moving faster, more rough, more violently. Marc just laughs.
After a few minutes of brutal finger fuck, borderline fisting, Marc pulls his fingers out and grabs his forceps and needles again. At this moment of calm Angela starts to work her courage back up and says “So you want pussy, huh? No wonder you hafta rape girls; who would want to fuck a dick that small?” she pauses to see what Marc says, but he says nothing. “What have you got there?” she adds on “About four or five inches? Huh?” Marc face starts to redden. “I’ve fucked guys with ten fat inches of cock, you aren’t shit. So go ahead and rape me.” At this Marc grabs ahold of Angela’s neck and starts to squeeze, “I will.” he tells her.
Angela courage starts to wane whenever Marc throws his forceps away and grabs ahold of her left labia. He stretches it out and jams his needle through it, roughly. He grabs another needle and does the same thing lower on her left labia; and again and again and again on both sides until she has eight needles sticking through her labia, point out and into her thigh.
The drugs are wearing off and the pain is more exquisite now. She sobs and cries and begs, but it won’t work, not after how she taunted Marc. He wants her blood. All of it.
Marc grabs Angela by the hips and lifts her legs into the air so he can watch the blood from her labia drip into her pussy. He licks his lips. Marc lowers his face into the bloody mess and pushes his face into it, hard. He pushes his tongue inside and presses his cheeks against the back ends of the needles, causing them to dig into Angela’s thighs deeper, drawing more and more blood.
The presents of the pain is undeniable, but after everything Marc has been putting Angela through she has just lost her lustre. She’s too tired to move, too tire to struggle. You can never be too tired to experience pain though.
After a few more moments up drinking up Angela’s pussy blood Marc puts her back down and glares at her, and at this moment he does look truly inside; blood dripping off of his chin, an enraged look on his face, and the way that he’s sitting makes him look like a gargoyle.
Marc grabs another needle and forces it through the skin on the bridge of Angela’s nose, and then two or three more through her eyebrows. Marc jumps off of the bed and stands away so that he can look over Angela, his new piece of art. The blood is dripping and by now Angela’s face has started bruising and has become more shiny from the swelling.
“It’s time.” Marc says to Angela as he climbs back on the bed and sitting between her limp, spread legs. Marc jams his fingers in once more to watch Angela wince and cry out before her grabs ahold of his cock and gets on his knees.
Marc grabs ahold of Angela by her throat and start squeezing. Angela is choking and turning a little bluer when Marc pushes his cock up against her bloody pussy. Angela takes a deep breath and Marc shoves his cock into her. Time seems to stop and Angela doesn’t breath out.
Marc cock slides in with ease. Angela finally breathes out.
The curtain of fear parts and Angela starts to feel a little better. After all she’s been through getting fuck with a dick she can’t even feel inside of her isn’t such a terrible thing. She just wonders if he’ll keep his word and let her go.
Marc starts out slow, sliding his cock in and out, moving his hips side to side, feeling around inside the bloody flesh trap. He slides in and out and then pushes in and holds it while he gives Angela’s throat a few quick squeezes, then he slides his dick all the way out.
He looks down at the blood dripping off of his dick and then decides he want’s to get his dick sucks a little. Marc hold on to Angela’s throat tight with his left hand and pulls the needles out of her lips with his left. The dried blood splits and tears some of the skin on Angela’s lip. She cries out.
Marc stands over Angela and puts his cock to her lips. but she won’t open her mouth. Marc tells Angela that if she doesn’t suck his dick he’s going to cut her right hand off with the power saw he keeps in his bottom drawer. Angela believes him and opens her mouth.
Marc crams his bloody dick into Angela’s mouth and starts fucking it like it was a bloody pussy with teeth, this idea excites Marc. Marc uses both hands to hold on to Angela’s hair. He’s pulling her head back and forth, trying to jam his cock down her throat, but it’s not quite long enough.
After very little gagging, and frustration Marc decides it’s time for something else. Anal.
Marc thrusts his groin into Angela’s face once more, to see if she would gag, then he stood up on the bed and moved back down between her legs. Marc grabs ahold of Angela’s hips and pulls her closer to him, then he puts his hands under the backs of her knees and lifts her legs as high as he can.
He takes a moment to look at the dried up, crusty blood that’s covering Angela’s vagina, then he turns his eye on her ass. Rivlets of blood have run down her ass crack and dried up, so he spits on her asshole and starts to work the lubrication around with his middle finger. Another wad of saliva and he starts using his fore finger, sliding it in and out.
Marc can tell Angela has never had anal sex before because of how she’s breathing and how she clenches her stomach whenever he sticks his finger in. This is going to be go Marc is thinking to himself.
Marc sits on his knees and takes his cock in his hand, after spitting on it he starts pressing it against Angela ass, moving like he’s going to slide it in slowly and gently. We all know this isn’t going to be quick, and it won’t be pain free.
Marc starts rubbing Angela’s asshole with his dick, moving in circular motions slowly, watching the dried blood smear and ooze mixed with his saliva. Marc draws back to lick Angela’s asshole, to taste the blood, or perhaps to taste her fear. It’s intoxicating.
Marc presses the tip of his dick slowly against Angela’s tight, pink asshole until it gives way and he can slide his head in. He watches himself doing this in an almost vacant fashion. Just when his jaw starts to slacken he regains his composure and rams his small dick into her asshole hard.
Angela moans in pain and starts writhing weakly, trying to stop him, but having no strength to do so. Marc pushes his cock in until his groin it resting against Angela’s ass, and his stares at his dick and watches the shaft disappear.
Marc starts pumping in and out, stretching Angela’s tight asshole a little bit with each thrust. Angela’s lower stomach starts turning and rumbling, confused about the sensations she’s feeling. She can feel it coming on, but it never does.
Marc pulls all the way out and spreads Angela’s ass cheeks to see how much damage he’s done. When he spreads her cheeks her asshole is only slightly agape, and this upsets him a little. So he slides his dick back in, with more ease this time, and starts fucking her hard and fast. He moves like a pissed off jack hammer until Angela is crying again, begging him to stop.
So he pulls away and spreads her ass cheeks again. No change.
This is truly bothersome for Marc, one of his favourite things is to see a wide open, bloody, newly de-virginized asshole. Marc jumps off of the bed and runs into the bathroom; Angela’s eyes follow him, disoriented. After a few moments and rustling noises from the closet Marc comes back to Angela holding a large package.
Marc lays the box beside Angela and flips the lid off and reaches inside. He pulls out a rubber dick at least twelve inches long and eight inches in girth. With the rubber cock in hand he moves up to Angela and starts stuffing it into her mouth, getting it wet. Marc relishes the choking and gagging noises Angela is making; he drinks it up.
After the dildo is wet enough he jumps back on the bed and presses it up against Angela’s asshole, then he crams it in none too gently. Tearing flesh makes Angela cry out, and Marc loves it.
Marc sits on his knees and moves the dildo in and out as quickly as he can, and with each thrust inward Angela lets out a painful moan, mixed with what might be an inkling of pleasure. Marc moves faster and faster, ramming hard with each thrust.
Then pulls the fake cock out and spreads Angela’s ass cheeks; perfect, wide, bloody, and newly bleeding. Marc puts his face down to Angela’s ass and starts licking around her asshole in a circle.
Then Marc takes the dildo and stuffs it into Angela’s little pussy. He slides it in and out slowly at first, watching Angela’s face soften and turn a little bit more pinkish. Abruptly Marc starts going faster, pushing the dildo in as far as it will go, hitting Angela’s cervix, and then pulling it out and doing it again.
The pain mixes with the pleasure and Angela’s moans gain a little pleasure with them.
Marc moves faster and faster watching Angela’s face turn again, more pleasure now, more and more pleasure with each thrust. The pain mixes exquisitely with the pleasure, and Angel’a is getting close to an orgasm, the first bit of pleasure she’s felt since they came back to Marc’s house.
Marc moves faster and faster until Angela’s body starts quaking and spasming, her face contorts and then the moans come load and hard. Angela starts shrieking with pleasure but Marc keeps going faster and faster still.
After about twenty seconds of orgasm Angela comes again, harder. Next thing, Angela starts squirting her warm pussy juice on Marc and on the tarp that covers the blood. But the orgasm starts to fade and the warm juice turn cold and mix with the blood already on the tarp.
Marc spreads Angela’s legs to look at the bloody gaping hole the huge, fake dick left behind, and it turns him on more. Marc grabs a knife out of the box he got the dildo from and leans over Angela. He holds the knife to her neck while he slides his dick back in.
Marc starts fucking her as fast and hard as he can, but Angela keeps a distant, blank look on her face. She’s getting no pleasure, and after all she’s been through its not even humiliating anymore. This is what her life has become, and as far as she knows she’ll be dead soon anyway. Why give this fuck the pleasure?
Not being able to feel Marc’s dick give her courage, he has no real power over her, so she says “Oh baby.” in a terribly sarcastic fashion. Marc glares at her and hold the knife closer to her neck while he’s fucking her.
After a few more moments she says “C’mon, after that huge cock I can’t feel any of your shit.”
“Bitch if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m gonna kill you.”
“A man with a dick that small has no guts, I don’t think you’ll do it, you slimy pindicked son of a bitch, I could finger myself with my pinky and actually feel it.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Marc yells out at her, furiously.
“No, either kill me or come and let me go you fucking prick.”
“Fine.” Marc says, and he starts fucking harder.
He thrust in and out of the bloody mess until he feels himself getting closer, then he fucks even harder. Finally he starts huffing and puffing and he comes inside Angela. She sheds a tear or two whenever Marc spreads he legs to watch the wad of come drip out of her pussy.
“You wanna have a rape baby?” Marc asks her, but she says nothing.
“Fine,” Marc tells her, “Well do it your way.”
He jumps off of the bed, with knife in hand he moves closer to her. She doesn’t look at him until she sees him raise his arm up. She shrieks when she sees the arm come down, and she screams even louder when she sees and feels the knife slide into her chest.
Jets of blood squirt and then ooze and subside into streaks that run down either side of her chest. Angela’s breathing becomes labored and shallow, so Marc pulls the knife out and thrusts it into Angela’s stomach. She spasms, coughs up a little spittle with bloody, then slips into the never ending abyss of nothingness.
After cleaning up and disposing of Angela Marc goes back to six-oh-nine the next night, looking for another girl to help him live out his fantasies.