Story: Internet snuff star, part 5

Buck was walking the streets, but he wasn’t hunting. He’d made enough from his twofer commission with Mark that he didn’t need to make another recording for a while. Tonight, he was setting up supply.

Buck liked to have a “stable” ready and waiting in case he received a request for a specific type of victim. The best way he’d found to do this was to deal weed to as many of the rentboys as he could. He never went in for anything harder than pot, though—not worth the heat. He’d had some good times letting some of the whores get in to debt, then inviting them over to “work it off.” They’d worked, all right. And even when they stopped working, Buck still had fun.

Now, he was approached by someone he recognized. Danny was true street scum, a needle junkie whore, probably about twenty-one years old. He’d bought weed from Buck a couple of times, but he preferred to shoot coke. It made him horny. He’d clearly just scored, since he offered himself freely to Buck after his offer for a $20 blowjob was turned down.

Buck eyed the kid thoughtfully. Danny was wearing a denim jacket over a white t-shirt. His tight faded jeans ended at a pair of expensive hightop kicks that must have been stolen. He had straight black hair and the fuzzy beginning of a mustache. Danny was buzzing hard; he kept licking his lips and moving erratically. His pupils were almost invisible and there were fresh tracks down his arms.

What the hell, thought Buck. The kid was asking for it. And the cocaine in his bloodstream would give a boost when the terror kicked in.

Danny immediately disappeared into the bathroom when they got back to Buck’s place. The fact that he’d done another bump was obvious when he came out—his eyes were glassy and staring and his tongue protruded.

“Take your clothes off,” Buck ordered, “But put your shoes back on after. I’m gonna fuck you in your kicks.”

Danny did as he was told. He was too high to think rationally when Buck grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the next room.

Buck fastened Danny onto the bed face up. After strapping Danny’s arms in at the wrist, he pulled the boy’s legs up and tied them in above the knees so Danny could still wrap them around him while getting fucked. He gave the kid a huge snort of poppers.

While Danny closed his eyes and let the rush take him, Buck silently slipped out his commando knife and placed it within easy reach. Danny never noticed it.

He did notice the next thing that happened, though. Without warning, Buck rammed his fat cock into Danny’s exposed, unprepared hole. Despite the rush of the poppers and the numbing effect of the coke, the pain was excruciating; it was like getting raped with a bayonet. Danny screamed and tried to move.

His struggles were useless. He was impaled on Buck’s dick like a bug on a pin.

Buck was pumping Danny’s ass brutally, reaming the junkie whore with each thrust. Danny’s asshole was well-stretched, but Buck’s thick meat still managed to tear it. No lube meant that every stoke of Buck’s massive tool was inflicting more damage, ripping and bruising more tender flesh. Blood leaked onto the bed. Good, thought Buck. He enjoyed Danny’s agony.

Danny’s scream had become long, sobbing howls. “Please stop, man, please stop—you’re killing me!” he cried.

“Not yet,” replied Buck, “You’ll know when I’m killing you. It’ll hurt worse than this. You’re gonna to die in horrible pain with my dick inside you.”

Danny’s eyes widened and he began begging for his life. He was crying too hard for his words to be coherent. “Please…oh god…please no…fuck, man, please don’t do this…god, no, please…don’t…”

Buck felt Danny’s struggles become more frantic beneath him. Leaning forward, he clamped the kid’s mouth and nose off with one hand. After holding it for close to a minute, he released one nostril and applied the poppers. Danny’s huge reflexive gasp was nothing but fumes. Buck clamped his hand back down, throwing all his weight onto that arm, pressing down on Danny’s face, making it hurt. He held the knife up in front of Danny’s panicked eyes.

“See this?” Buck whispered. “I’m gonna fuck you in the head with this. I’m gonna rape your brain with it. You can’t yet imagine how much it’s gonna hurt. If I do it right, I’m gonna hit the part of your brain that controls orgasm. You’ll die like a pig with my knife in your brain and my cock up your ass and you’ll shoot your wad harder than you ever have in your worthless fucking life, you punk. You won’t be able to control it. You’re gonna die helplessly just so I can use your death agony to dump my cum, then throw you away like the piece of shit you are.”

He took his hand off Danny’s face. The boy was in sheer mindless terror, sobbing and struggling. Buck felt his balls tighten.

It was time for the kill.

“Are you ready for it, bitch?” Buck snarled. “Are you ready for my knife and my spunk? I’m gonna ram this cold hard steel into your brain stem. It’s gonna go under your jaw, through the base of your tongue and up into the back of your throat. You’ll feel every inch of my blade in your head before it reaches your brain. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still gonna cum. You’re gonna spurt blood and seed.”

Buck quickly applied the poppers again. Then, one hand on Danny’s face holding it down, he brought the knife up under the junkie’s jaw and stuck it in.

Slowly.

The muffled screams under Buck hand suddenly became much shriller. Buck could feel the resistance lessen when the blade emerged from the back of Danny’s tongue into the open cavity of his throat. The resistance built again as the knife continued upward and encountered bone on the underside of the skull. Buck applied more force. There was a crunching sound as the blade pierced the skull, then slid into Danny’s brain as if into butter.

Danny’s body stiffened instantly in shock. His legs clamped Buck’s torso, the heels of the hightops digging into Buck’s ass. His pupils dilated. When he opened his mouth, Buck could see the knife bisecting the back of his throat. His breathing became a series of ragged, hoarse gasps.

With another involuntary clenching of his muscles, thick ropy strands of cum began erupting from Danny’s rigid cock. His ass tightened around Buck’s dick, forcing it to shoot like a geyser. As always, Buck felt his control slip away. He was cumming so hard he was almost unaware that he was cursing. With each fountain of spunk that he blew, Buck twisted and reamed the knife into Danny’s brain, causing horrible trauma.

It was several minutes before Buck became aware of his surroundings again. He was lying on top of Danny, his cock still buried in the boy’s ass. Danny was quivering beneath him, the mindless twitchings of uncoordinated nerves. Like Tim before him, he was technically alive, even though his brain was destroyed. He continued to spasm jerkily as Buck pulled out; his breathing was faint and irregular.

“Well, shit, you little fuck, I guess you ain’t done yet,” Buck said to the trembling piece of meat beneath him. “Let me grab a smoke and we’ll saddle up again.”

--end of part 5
 
Story: Internet snuff star, part 6

Buck pulled his knife out of Danny’s head. No major blood vessels had been cut, so there was little mess—just a slight trickle of blood from the wound and another from the corner of the kid’s mouth. Buck had taken his usual precaution of laying down a plastic sheet, since he hadn’t been sure how the kill would go down. So far, he hadn’t needed it this time.

He would now.

He freed Danny from the restraints. They wouldn’t be needed any more; the junkie was just mindless twitching flesh now. Buck rolled him over onto his belly and straddled him; his massive cock nestled between the boy’s quivering asscheeks.

Buck stuck his finger up Danny’s ass and was surprised that he could barely fit it in. Brain trauma had clinched Danny’s sphincter during the assault and it had remained that way.

“Shit, boy, you’re too tight. Guess I’m gonna have to loosen you up a bit,” said Buck.

He grabbed his knife and rammed it into Danny’s hole, sawing and slicing the whore’s ass. The more Buck knife-fucked the kid, the harder his own dick became.

Finally, Buck had enough. He mounted the dying junkie whore, shoving the swollen head of his cock into Danny’s bleeding, mangled man pussy.

The blood acted as a natural lube inside the kid’s rigid, inflamed rectum. Buck’s dick went in smoothly, like a spear into an apple. It was like fucking velvet. Danny’s colon had been sliced open and Buck could feel the boy’s guts being shoved aside with each thrust.

Buck started fucking with a rhythmic motion but found it hard to keep up as time went by. Intracranial bleeding had built up inside Danny’s skull. The increased pressure caused the kid’s death throes to become progressively more violent.

The boy’s body had responded to Buck's cock with only a slight twitch, repeated at random intervals. These intervals became shorter and more intense, Before Buck had been fucking him for five minutes, Danny started to thrash wildly beneath him. His arms bonelessly beat at the bed. His legs struggled to kick from under Buck’s.

Buck felt pleasure and rage build inside him. The pleasure was from his approaching orgasm; the rage was from the fact that this little punk-ass bitch wasn’t dead yet.

Feeling the spunk starting to boil over deep within his balls, Buck lay full-length on top of Danny. He grabbed the boy’s hair in one hand and pulled his head back. With his other hand, he brought the knife up to the kid’s throat.

With his first overpowering ejaculation, Buck cut Danny’s throat.

Blood erupted from the gaping wound in powerful spurts. Buck answered each jet of blood with a geyser of cum, sawing at the punk’s neck the entire time.

When Buck finally became aware again, after the intensity of his orgasm, he was lying on top of Danny’s decapitated body, the head still in his hand, clutched tightly by the hair. A faint gurgling sound was coming from the exposed trachea as the fountain of blood had slowed to a trickle.

Reluctantly withdrawing his still-erect rod from the corpse, Buck surveyed the scene.

“Well, goddam, you sure made a mess, you little shit. Guess I’d better dump you before you start to stink.”

--end of part 6
 
Look for part 7 over the weekend. BTW, if anyone has any requests for victims/deaths, let me know. I'll try to work it in...
 
Story: Internet snuff star, part 7

Buck had come across Andy online. Andy had an amateurish web page that noted that he was in his “early twenties” and billed himself as a “male model”—which, in this case, meant that he would strip for rich guys (and do their drugs) but wouldn’t have sex. A whore who wouldn’t put out after getting paid, in other words.

He had no problem posing nude for kinky solo photos, though, and that was how Buck lured him in. Andy jumped at the offer of a hundred bucks (payment after the shoot, of course) for a set of bondage pics.

Andy arrived for his photo shoot eager to start. Looking good was what paid for his drugs and he had dressed for the part. There was gel in his red-gold hair and a simple leather jacket over his bare, muscular chest. His bulging package was clearly defined by his skin-tight jeans, over which he had laced tactical combat boots.

He’d picked a great outfit to die in, thought Buck.

Getting him into position for the kill was absurdly easy. There was a low footstool, about fourteen inches high at one side of the room. Buck had Andy stand on this, explaining that he wanted to get some shots from below. Andy had no problem with it.

The cocky little bitch never noticed the rope above his head.

Buck switched on the video recorder and picked up his camera. “Take out your junk, but keep your jeans on. All I want right now is your cock and balls.”

Andy had the gift of getting hard no matter how high he was and the thick, erect dick he exposed was impressive. Crouching in front of him, Buck shot a few close-ups.

“All right, now turn around. No, hold on a sec.” Buck grabbed a chair and placed it facing Andy, a couple of feet away. He also picked up a short length of nylon cord. “Now turn around. I’m gonna tie your hands and get some shots of that.”

Andy obliged willingly, unaware that he was helping with his own death.

Ensuring that Andy’s hands were securely bound behind him, Buck made the kid turn back. A swift jerk of his arm was enough to bring the looped nylon rope down around Andy’s neck.

“Hey, what is this shit? You didn’t say anything about this!” objected Andy.

“I didn’t tell you that you were gonna die tonight? Too bad, punk. Lights out.”

“W-wait,” stammered Andy, “I don’t wanna—urk!”

Buck had kicked the box away.

Andy thrashed at the end of the rope, his boots drumming wildly against the wall. His hands scrabbled against the smooth soundproofing behind him, trying desperately to grab ahold of something that would let him lift himself up and ease the ring of agony that circled his throat. His bulging, horrified eyes stared at Buck, who had taken a seat in front of him and was beating off.

The realization that he was dying pierced the chemical fog in Andy's mind. This guy was getting off watching him choke at the end of a rope. The only thing Buck wanted was his death. And Andy couldn’t stop it; he was powerless in the face of his own death.

He lost control of his bladder in a wave of terror. Piss darkened his skin-tight jeans and splattered from his flailing boots.

Each kick, each effort to free himself only tightened the cord around his neck. A loud ringing filled his ears and great bursts of blackness exploded in front of his eyes. Thick grunting, gagging sounds escaped his closed-off throat. He could still see Buck, pounding his meat, lusting over the death agony of the boy dangling and twisting in front of him. But it was getting harder to see…

Andy gave another kick and was rewarded with a sudden new intensity of pain in his throat. There was a slight cracking sound as his windpipe was crushed.

The build-up of pressure was excruciating. Andy’s tongue swelled and forced its way out from between his lips, along with a thick foam. Tears and snot ran down his face, causing the foam to drip from his chin. Blood vessels burst in the whites of his frantic eyes, turning them red.

As his cock strained painfully erect, Andy could hear Buck talking to him. It sounded like a whisper over the roaring in his ears. A trickle of blood streamed from his nose and mingled with the foam oozing out of his mouth.

“Almost over, bitch. Make me cum. Work for it. The longer it takes you to die, the better it’ll be. C’mon bitch, I wanna see you kick away the last few seconds of your life…”

Andy gave Buck what he was looking for, his boots jerking nervelessly a few inches off the ground. He convulsed and twitched at the end of the rope. His last sensation as the cold darkness of brain death overwhelmed him was of liquid fire erupting from his engorged, throbbing cock. His brain was too damaged for him to realize that he’d hit Buck square in the face with his first blast of cum. He never saw Buck’s own geyser of spunk or heard his animalistic grunts.

When Buck finally became aware of his surroundings again, after his mind-bending orgasm, he switched off the video and lowered Andy to the ground. Again, he’d contrived not to kill his playmate immediately. Andy’s body convulsed rhythmically, the spasms of mindless meat, lacking the control of a functioning brain.

Buck was pleased. As good as jacking off had been, he was looking forward to ramming his rod deep into the kid’s asshole. He liked the feeling when massive brain damage made them jerk and twitch on his dick.

“Lemme catch my breath and I’ll do ya again, dude. Think I’m gonna string ya up again. Hang ‘em fresh and fuck ‘em fresh, as my daddy used to say.”

--end of part 7
 
Story: Internet snuff star, part 8

Buck, wearing only his boots by now, stooped low over Andy’s jerking body. He untied the rope that bound Andy’s hands together. Deep red marks on the wrists showed how frantic the boy’s hopeless fight for his life had been. He’d struggled tenaciously up till the moment his brain was damaged irreparably.

Now he was swaying gently with the momentum he’d gained while Buck cranked the noose back up. Andy’s beautiful face gazed out from half-lidded eyes. The look of dull horror in those eyes indicated Andy’s realization in the last seconds of his life that he was dying solely for the purpose of making another man cum--that when there was no more use for his corpse, it’d be thrown away like garbage and not found until it was a stinking mound of rotting meat.

Andy’s boots, toes pointed down, were swinging a couple of inches off the ground. A pink streamer of drool dangled from his chin and anchored itself on his hard, flat belly. His dick was still erect, the head grotesquely engorged. A slow trickle of semen still oozed from it.

Buck stood on the box behind him and pulled down his tight jeans. The jeans hung just above Andy’s ankles, at the point where they had been tucked into his boots.

Buck pulled Andy’s ass back onto his cock. It was smooth, with no resistance. Buck slid the kid’s ass off and on his dick rapidly, feeling Andy’s combat boots swing into his shins each time he pulled the corpse back.

And it was a corpse now. Andy died while getting fucked. His brain and heart had completely shut down. An unnoticed occasional spasm in a random muscle, the death throes of a neuron, were the only movements. Buck was plowing his tool into dead manmeat.

Buck had moved one hand forward and was thrusting the body back onto his cock by using the boy’s dick as a handle. The shaft and the balls were sticky with cum.

He clamped his other hand over the stiff’s mouth, feeling the tip of the protruding tongue in the palm of his hand.

Time for shit to get real, Buck thought.

Buck was banging the bitch violently. He flailed his dick with the punk’s corpse, wildly yanking back on the kid’s thick member. He came up onto his toes each time he felt the corpse’s ass against the base of his cock.

When he spunked, Buck hunched forward and held the body tightly to him. As he bent, there was a sound like a twig snapping. Andy’s neck became three inches longer. His boots now rested flat on the floor.

Gasping and sweating, Buck stepped off the box and released the catch on the rope. The corpse fell in a boneless heap. Andy had been a fun playmate and for a moment, Buck considered facefucking him. But the rope had tightened considerably during the death fuck and Buck doubted he could force the head of his dick down the crushed throat.

It would have been nice, thought Buck, but there’s always next time. Next time, he’d film himself fucking the body. But at the moment, what he needed was a garbage bag. It was time to take out the trash.

--end of part eight
 
Let me do some poking around this weekend and see what I can dig up on Yahoo...
 
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