M
m3m1
Guest
Buck was out cruising for supplies. He was recording another episode tonight, and his fans wouldn’t keep paying if he didn’t give them a good show.
The last show hadn’t been great. The hustler had already been under the influence of something when Buck had drugged him and he’d died before Buck had even gotten him on camera. Buck, horny and very angry, had filmed himself fucking and beating the corpse, but the revenue had been down. The audience wanted something else.
They wanted to watch the little fucks struggle and die.
A hard smile crossed Buck’s face. He wasn’t a man to disappoint his fans.
He was a lean, hard man in his early 30’s, with shoulder-length brown hair and a trim goatee. Tonight he was in hunting gear—a wifebeater showing his muscled chest and arms, cutoffs displaying his thick thighs. The sweat socks showing just above his construction boots completed the outfit. Just another fag on the prowl for a rentboy. A roll of bills in his pocket served for his lure.
In three years, he’d never pulled a single bill off the roll. By the time he was done with them, they had no use for money.
Tonight he was hunting for general meat. On occasion, he’d recorded private commissions, for a large fee. These jobs had usually specified a type of victim or mode of death, or both. Most of these jobs he’d accepted—he’d only turned down the ones he found personally repellent, like requests for minors or excessive gore. But after the last show, no new requests had come in. Tonight needed to be good.
Buck parked at the end of a dead-end street, facing out, and put out his lights. This street ran parallel to a major road and afforded access to small alleyways that were used by the businesses facing the road. At night, the alleyways were popular with hustlers. It had been a while since Buck was here; he never used the same hunting grounds twice in a row. But this had been a good spot and it still was. In a couple of minutes, Buck had two targets in view.
They’d emerged from an alley about half a block up. One was short and had short blond hair. Jeans, sneakers, no shirt. He was young, maybe too young. Buck ignored him. The other was taller, with curly black hair--looked to be in his early 20’s. He wore a sleeveless denim vest with no shirt and tight jeans. On his feet were partially-laced combat boots pulled up over the cuffs of his jeans.
Buck recognized him. His last victim had pointed him out as Buck had driven him off to his death. “Stay away from that dude,” he said, “He says he’s straight. Great at sucking dick, though. Put one of his tricks in the hospital after the dude wouldn’t pay—slammed his head in the car door till his skull fractured.”
Just what Buck was looking for. This one wouldn’t go quietly. This one would kick and fight for his life. When he finally submitted, it would be so fucking hot…
The bargaining process was brief. The whores had split up before Buck had started his truck, so the pick-up was unseen by anyone else. The kid agreed to go back to Buck’s place for a blowjob for thirty bucks. He explained frankly that he wanted to re-up; he only had one rock left and he was going to smoke it before blowing Buck.
Back at Buck’s place, the hustler pulled out a glass stem.
“Before that, smoke one of these with me,” said Buck and handed the kid a joint. Buck then lit one of his own, knowing the kid wouldn’t be in the mood for crack after the doctored joint.
After five minutes, the drugs had taken effect. The kid wasn’t unconscious, just very, very stoned.
“Come into the next room. That’s where I want you to blow me,” said Buck and opened the door.
In the center of the room was a double bed. At each cornet of the bed was a metal post, from each of which dangled various forms of restraint. In the center of one end of the bed was a smaller device made of metal poles.
There were multiple webcams pointed at the bed, covering many different angles.
Buck took off his shirt and, leaving his construction boots on, stepped out of his shorts. Then the boy-whore groped unsteadily into the room. Buck grinned—the little shit must’ve read his mind. He’d stripped down to nothing but his combat boots.
“Lay down on the bed,” Buck commanded.
“No way, dude,” slurred the boy.
Buck sprang upon him unexpectedly. Suddenly the kid found himself on his back, his hands shackled to the metal posts by straps pulled up by nylon cords. Buck quickly strapped another set of restraints around the boy’s legs just above the knee and then a third set at the ankles. The whore was flat on his back, arms above his head, with his legs raised and spread. Prime fucking position.
“What the fuck are you doin’ dude?” he demanded. The sedative was wearing off. It had already done its job.
Buck had started locking cameras into place. He paused. “I’m going to rape and strangle you; that’s what I’m doing. And I’m recording it. A lot of men are gonna cum watching you die. Don’t worry, you’ll cum too.”
The kid’s face clouded with rage. “Lemme outta this, you crazy fucking faggot! I’m gonna fuck you up bad, you bugshit motherfucker!!”
Buck put the final restraint into place. This was the smaller device at the end of the bed. A pair of poles, just above the kid’s shoulders, with a looped cord between them. Buck maneuvered the rope over the boy’s head and around his neck. A set of pulleys on one end allowed the device to act as a garrote. Yanking on the control cord on one side would cause the loop to tighten. The cord on the other side would ease the tension.
Buck kept it loose for now. He wanted the kid to talk. He wanted to hear him lose his tough attitude and plead for his life. He wanted hear him cry and scream as he was raped. This room was soundproof. Let him shout.
Buck got himself into position, kneeling on the bed. He gently nudged the whore’s pink quivering asshole with the thick head of his dick.
“Get the fuck away, fag! Don’t touch me!” screamed the kid.
Buck spat on the punk’s asshole and thrust his rigid member in hard. The kid screamed, struggling violently, only able to move his hands and feet.
Buck slowly pulled out, then rammed his dick back in all the way. The kid’s cry became a drawn-out howl of pain. For all his noise, though, Buck was sure the whore had had other cocks up his ass before. It might hurt, but it was familiar. The boy wasn’t scared enough yet.
Well, that was easy enough to take care of. Buck leaned forward and grabbed the control cord, giving it a couple of yanks. The cord around the kid’s neck tightened—not enough to cut off his air completely, but enough to get the point across. The boy fought to speak, having to gasp for air at each word.
“Please…don’t…don’t...kill…me…please…”
That was better. The boy was staring at him, eyes wide with the realization that he might actually die today. He hadn’t truly known it before. Buck made sure it sank in.
“Oh yeah, you’re gonna die, bitch. Thousands of guys are gonna shoot their wads watching you die on my dick,” he whispered to the helpless punk. “You’re gonna ride my cock all the way down and you’re gonna blow your load as you die at the end. You won’t be able to stop yourself.”
The rentboy started blubbering. Tears streamed from his eyes as his combat boots jerked uselessly in Buck’s hands and his legs pulled at the restraints.
Buck kept reaming the boy, pulling all the way out before shoving his swollen cock back into the hustler’s traumatized hole with a brutal thrust. He gave the cord a couple more yanks. Now the kid could only give a throttled croak.
The kid was overwhelmed with the agony in his ass and in his throat. Panic swept over him as he strained to breathe and remain conscious. His drug-numbed brain was trying to grasp the fact that the john whose dick he was gonna suck, the faggot he was planning to beat down and rob, was choking the life out of him.
Buck felt his balls tighten at the base of his dick and knew that it was nearly time. Never missing a stroke in his vicious pumping, he learned forward and gave another couple of yanks, cutting off the kid’s air completely. He gripped the kid’s chin and turned his face to the camera.
“Come on, man, let ‘em watch. Let ‘em see your eyes glaze over as your life ends. They want to see you spunk and die,” he whispered.
The whore’s eyes bulged as the lack of oxygen increased the pressure in his head. His tongue protruded and a string of drool ran from the corner of his mouth. His struggles became more frantic, his hands grasping the empty air, his boots twitching wildly.
Suddenly Buck had an idea. He reached down by the side of the bed and pulled out a bottle of poppers. He opened the bottle and capped it with his thumb. The he used the release cord to ease the tension on the kid’s throat.
After allowing the rentboy a couple of shuddering, sobbing breaths, Buck lay on top of him, between his strapped-back legs and clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth and nose, blocking his air again.
The boy began jerking and turning blue. Buck held him down, feeling the kid writhe beneath him. After about 45 second, He released one nostril, holding the poppers up to it. The kid inhaled deeply and reflexively. In a flash, Buck tightened the cord down on his throat again. Recapping the bottle after taking a hit himself, Buck started pounding the kid’s ass like he was trying to fuck him in half.
The whore’s dick began to swell. Somewhere in the loud banging darkness that had become his world, the hustler knew that he was dying, that he was dying so that this stranger could use him as a cum dump and toss his stiffened body into a ditch to rot., that he was being brutally raped and was going to die on this guy’s dick…and he knew that he had the most painful, intense hard-on he’d ever had in his short, worthless life.
The kid’s body had settled into a rhythmic convulsive movement that matched Buck powerful pumping. Suddenly, the boy’s body went rigid. Buck gave a loud grunt as the little fuck’s asshole clamped down on his engorged cock. He tried to control himself as he watched the boy’s half-opened eyes start to drain of life. Then he felt a spurt of liquid on his chest and another on the underside of his chin. In the agony of his final seconds on earth, the rentboy was shooting massive loads. Long ropy strands of cum splashed over Buck’s chest.
Buck lost control. “Oh fuck,” he groaned as he unloaded in the dying boy’s ass, “fuckin’-A!”
The last things the kid felt as darkness closed over him were the incredible agony of his orgasm, as if his life was spurting out through his dick—and the searing, red-hot pain of cum splattering the inflamed nerves of his rectum.
Buck had lost all control with his orgasm. He’d screamed and shouted. At one point, he’d realized he was beating the dead whore’s face with his balled-up fist. He spunked several times, punching the corpse with each load and shouting, “Take my load, you fuckin’ whore! Die on my fuckin’ cock, bitch!”
When he finally shuddered to a stop, he felt limp and drained. He quickly released the body from its restraints and removed the cord from the neck. Then he lay on top of it for a while, enjoying the feeling—two cum-covered sculpted chests, one warm and heaving, one cooling and still, pressed together. He kissed the boy’s dead, staring face, licking off the cum. Keeping it in his mouth, he frenched the corpse, leaving the kid’s cum in his own mouth.
Rolling off the body with a happy sigh, Buck switched off the cameras. This had only been round one with the kid. He had to reposition things for round two…
--End of part one
The last show hadn’t been great. The hustler had already been under the influence of something when Buck had drugged him and he’d died before Buck had even gotten him on camera. Buck, horny and very angry, had filmed himself fucking and beating the corpse, but the revenue had been down. The audience wanted something else.
They wanted to watch the little fucks struggle and die.
A hard smile crossed Buck’s face. He wasn’t a man to disappoint his fans.
He was a lean, hard man in his early 30’s, with shoulder-length brown hair and a trim goatee. Tonight he was in hunting gear—a wifebeater showing his muscled chest and arms, cutoffs displaying his thick thighs. The sweat socks showing just above his construction boots completed the outfit. Just another fag on the prowl for a rentboy. A roll of bills in his pocket served for his lure.
In three years, he’d never pulled a single bill off the roll. By the time he was done with them, they had no use for money.
Tonight he was hunting for general meat. On occasion, he’d recorded private commissions, for a large fee. These jobs had usually specified a type of victim or mode of death, or both. Most of these jobs he’d accepted—he’d only turned down the ones he found personally repellent, like requests for minors or excessive gore. But after the last show, no new requests had come in. Tonight needed to be good.
Buck parked at the end of a dead-end street, facing out, and put out his lights. This street ran parallel to a major road and afforded access to small alleyways that were used by the businesses facing the road. At night, the alleyways were popular with hustlers. It had been a while since Buck was here; he never used the same hunting grounds twice in a row. But this had been a good spot and it still was. In a couple of minutes, Buck had two targets in view.
They’d emerged from an alley about half a block up. One was short and had short blond hair. Jeans, sneakers, no shirt. He was young, maybe too young. Buck ignored him. The other was taller, with curly black hair--looked to be in his early 20’s. He wore a sleeveless denim vest with no shirt and tight jeans. On his feet were partially-laced combat boots pulled up over the cuffs of his jeans.
Buck recognized him. His last victim had pointed him out as Buck had driven him off to his death. “Stay away from that dude,” he said, “He says he’s straight. Great at sucking dick, though. Put one of his tricks in the hospital after the dude wouldn’t pay—slammed his head in the car door till his skull fractured.”
Just what Buck was looking for. This one wouldn’t go quietly. This one would kick and fight for his life. When he finally submitted, it would be so fucking hot…
The bargaining process was brief. The whores had split up before Buck had started his truck, so the pick-up was unseen by anyone else. The kid agreed to go back to Buck’s place for a blowjob for thirty bucks. He explained frankly that he wanted to re-up; he only had one rock left and he was going to smoke it before blowing Buck.
Back at Buck’s place, the hustler pulled out a glass stem.
“Before that, smoke one of these with me,” said Buck and handed the kid a joint. Buck then lit one of his own, knowing the kid wouldn’t be in the mood for crack after the doctored joint.
After five minutes, the drugs had taken effect. The kid wasn’t unconscious, just very, very stoned.
“Come into the next room. That’s where I want you to blow me,” said Buck and opened the door.
In the center of the room was a double bed. At each cornet of the bed was a metal post, from each of which dangled various forms of restraint. In the center of one end of the bed was a smaller device made of metal poles.
There were multiple webcams pointed at the bed, covering many different angles.
Buck took off his shirt and, leaving his construction boots on, stepped out of his shorts. Then the boy-whore groped unsteadily into the room. Buck grinned—the little shit must’ve read his mind. He’d stripped down to nothing but his combat boots.
“Lay down on the bed,” Buck commanded.
“No way, dude,” slurred the boy.
Buck sprang upon him unexpectedly. Suddenly the kid found himself on his back, his hands shackled to the metal posts by straps pulled up by nylon cords. Buck quickly strapped another set of restraints around the boy’s legs just above the knee and then a third set at the ankles. The whore was flat on his back, arms above his head, with his legs raised and spread. Prime fucking position.
“What the fuck are you doin’ dude?” he demanded. The sedative was wearing off. It had already done its job.
Buck had started locking cameras into place. He paused. “I’m going to rape and strangle you; that’s what I’m doing. And I’m recording it. A lot of men are gonna cum watching you die. Don’t worry, you’ll cum too.”
The kid’s face clouded with rage. “Lemme outta this, you crazy fucking faggot! I’m gonna fuck you up bad, you bugshit motherfucker!!”
Buck put the final restraint into place. This was the smaller device at the end of the bed. A pair of poles, just above the kid’s shoulders, with a looped cord between them. Buck maneuvered the rope over the boy’s head and around his neck. A set of pulleys on one end allowed the device to act as a garrote. Yanking on the control cord on one side would cause the loop to tighten. The cord on the other side would ease the tension.
Buck kept it loose for now. He wanted the kid to talk. He wanted to hear him lose his tough attitude and plead for his life. He wanted hear him cry and scream as he was raped. This room was soundproof. Let him shout.
Buck got himself into position, kneeling on the bed. He gently nudged the whore’s pink quivering asshole with the thick head of his dick.
“Get the fuck away, fag! Don’t touch me!” screamed the kid.
Buck spat on the punk’s asshole and thrust his rigid member in hard. The kid screamed, struggling violently, only able to move his hands and feet.
Buck slowly pulled out, then rammed his dick back in all the way. The kid’s cry became a drawn-out howl of pain. For all his noise, though, Buck was sure the whore had had other cocks up his ass before. It might hurt, but it was familiar. The boy wasn’t scared enough yet.
Well, that was easy enough to take care of. Buck leaned forward and grabbed the control cord, giving it a couple of yanks. The cord around the kid’s neck tightened—not enough to cut off his air completely, but enough to get the point across. The boy fought to speak, having to gasp for air at each word.
“Please…don’t…don’t...kill…me…please…”
That was better. The boy was staring at him, eyes wide with the realization that he might actually die today. He hadn’t truly known it before. Buck made sure it sank in.
“Oh yeah, you’re gonna die, bitch. Thousands of guys are gonna shoot their wads watching you die on my dick,” he whispered to the helpless punk. “You’re gonna ride my cock all the way down and you’re gonna blow your load as you die at the end. You won’t be able to stop yourself.”
The rentboy started blubbering. Tears streamed from his eyes as his combat boots jerked uselessly in Buck’s hands and his legs pulled at the restraints.
Buck kept reaming the boy, pulling all the way out before shoving his swollen cock back into the hustler’s traumatized hole with a brutal thrust. He gave the cord a couple more yanks. Now the kid could only give a throttled croak.
The kid was overwhelmed with the agony in his ass and in his throat. Panic swept over him as he strained to breathe and remain conscious. His drug-numbed brain was trying to grasp the fact that the john whose dick he was gonna suck, the faggot he was planning to beat down and rob, was choking the life out of him.
Buck felt his balls tighten at the base of his dick and knew that it was nearly time. Never missing a stroke in his vicious pumping, he learned forward and gave another couple of yanks, cutting off the kid’s air completely. He gripped the kid’s chin and turned his face to the camera.
“Come on, man, let ‘em watch. Let ‘em see your eyes glaze over as your life ends. They want to see you spunk and die,” he whispered.
The whore’s eyes bulged as the lack of oxygen increased the pressure in his head. His tongue protruded and a string of drool ran from the corner of his mouth. His struggles became more frantic, his hands grasping the empty air, his boots twitching wildly.
Suddenly Buck had an idea. He reached down by the side of the bed and pulled out a bottle of poppers. He opened the bottle and capped it with his thumb. The he used the release cord to ease the tension on the kid’s throat.
After allowing the rentboy a couple of shuddering, sobbing breaths, Buck lay on top of him, between his strapped-back legs and clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth and nose, blocking his air again.
The boy began jerking and turning blue. Buck held him down, feeling the kid writhe beneath him. After about 45 second, He released one nostril, holding the poppers up to it. The kid inhaled deeply and reflexively. In a flash, Buck tightened the cord down on his throat again. Recapping the bottle after taking a hit himself, Buck started pounding the kid’s ass like he was trying to fuck him in half.
The whore’s dick began to swell. Somewhere in the loud banging darkness that had become his world, the hustler knew that he was dying, that he was dying so that this stranger could use him as a cum dump and toss his stiffened body into a ditch to rot., that he was being brutally raped and was going to die on this guy’s dick…and he knew that he had the most painful, intense hard-on he’d ever had in his short, worthless life.
The kid’s body had settled into a rhythmic convulsive movement that matched Buck powerful pumping. Suddenly, the boy’s body went rigid. Buck gave a loud grunt as the little fuck’s asshole clamped down on his engorged cock. He tried to control himself as he watched the boy’s half-opened eyes start to drain of life. Then he felt a spurt of liquid on his chest and another on the underside of his chin. In the agony of his final seconds on earth, the rentboy was shooting massive loads. Long ropy strands of cum splashed over Buck’s chest.
Buck lost control. “Oh fuck,” he groaned as he unloaded in the dying boy’s ass, “fuckin’-A!”
The last things the kid felt as darkness closed over him were the incredible agony of his orgasm, as if his life was spurting out through his dick—and the searing, red-hot pain of cum splattering the inflamed nerves of his rectum.
Buck had lost all control with his orgasm. He’d screamed and shouted. At one point, he’d realized he was beating the dead whore’s face with his balled-up fist. He spunked several times, punching the corpse with each load and shouting, “Take my load, you fuckin’ whore! Die on my fuckin’ cock, bitch!”
When he finally shuddered to a stop, he felt limp and drained. He quickly released the body from its restraints and removed the cord from the neck. Then he lay on top of it for a while, enjoying the feeling—two cum-covered sculpted chests, one warm and heaving, one cooling and still, pressed together. He kissed the boy’s dead, staring face, licking off the cum. Keeping it in his mouth, he frenched the corpse, leaving the kid’s cum in his own mouth.
Rolling off the body with a happy sigh, Buck switched off the cameras. This had only been round one with the kid. He had to reposition things for round two…
--End of part one
