by Havok, Rayne
I release the tether holding her feet to the footboard and fold her in half, moving her ankles next to her wrists at the headboard and then reattach the belt-like strap, giving me complete access to her puffy pussy lips and tight little asshole.
I take a second to admire what she has to offer, breathing her aroma deep into my lungs before I suck as much of her pale, bare, flesh into my mouth as I can manage.
Her taste evokes everything I crave, youth, desire, ownership and a sweet agony that causes my skin to erupt in excitement. She squirms, and begs, but the pain in her toe hopefully reminds her that resistance is futile—and dangerous.
I nip her harder, relishing the flavor of her fear, and sweetness of her submission, licking it from my lips, savoring it for my memory.
"Do you know why you're here?" I ask her, watching her eyes well with tears between the blinks that send them streaming down her cheeks.
"Please, just leave me alone,” she says with a trembling chin.
"I will not be doing that. I'm here to make a movie," I taunt her, helping her realize that there is no amount of pleading that will save her.
"Don't hurt me anymore, I’ll do whatever you want me to, I’ll be good, I promise."
"It will stop hurting when I’ve had my fill, but that won’t be until you’re dead." An involuntary smile reaches my eyes when I say the words to her. I can feel the moment it hits her, the flood of heat rushing from her core.
I press my thumb against her puckered asshole, keeping my eyes on hers for a moment to watch her reaction.
My thumb breaks through, forcing into her tight, perfectly shaped, classic example of anatomy. Hefting her ass up, I rest it on top of my thighs, aligning it with my cock before I shove into her remorselessly. She clenches tightly but it’s too late, I’m in too deep, and she can’t prevent me from entering as I use my weight to force inside. She screams and bucks, only helping me to penetrate her completely.
It’s tight—virgin tight, and feels so good, letting myself succumb to the bliss, my eyes rolling back in my head as I glide in and out of her, slowly, making her feel every inch of me while I lose myself in the pleasure of it all.
A sudden shift in the room, something I can't identify, brings my eyes open in a beat. A sting in my neck, sharp and surprising, forces a confused and startled yelp from my mouth.
And then there is only black.
A pounding in my head rouses me, a thundering pain in my extremities reminds me something isn’t right. One second, I am inside a dream come true, the next, I'm waking up.
I survey what happened while I was out, and maybe a reason for it. I realize I’m in some sort of contraption, hoisting me above the mattress. Securing me by my midsection, like some superman imposter, leaving my arms and legs to dangle. I assume that’s what the sharp pins and needles feeling is coming from. They are asleep.
It couldn’t have been too long though, as I’m redirected to the girl on the bed, being unshackled by two women—both naked and in masks of their own.
They’ve broken loose and are helping free the others?
Does that even make sense?
What the fuck is going on?
She is loose now, rubbing each of her wrists, and then daring a look at her toe.
"What the fuck? Why did you guys take so long? Look what he did to my fucking toe!" she yells, frantically climbing off the mattress that was supposed to be the stage for my performance of a lifetime.
My state of shock is not helping me understand anything, I need help deciphering what the hell is going on here.
I’m not able to dwell in the confusion for long. The soft voice of one of the women comes from behind me. I can't turn to see her, although I wish I could, the harness around my middle keeps me immobile.
“Yea, I'm sorry about your nail. I’ve already sent a message to our Dr. friend; she is expecting you when we are done here. And we know how much you enjoy the rough stuff; you aren't fooling anyone. It probably made you come. It's not like we were going to let him kill you. After a good pedicure, you’ll be fine"
"Listen, ladies, you got this all wrong." I try very hard to sound like I'm not about to become shrill and shit myself from fear.
The copper haired girl speaks instead. "We don't have anything wrong, Wesley," saying my name as snidely as I’ve ever heard it, she grins. "We have everything exactly the way we intended… well almost." Bringing attention to her toe with an irritated chuff.
As if the words spoken were their cue, all three converge on me. My arms fight to grab them, my legs kick, but to no avail, I'm quickly left too tired to expend any more energy.
They've stayed far enough away for me to miss every blow, watching, as if waiting for me to gas out, getting to work only after I still. I struggle mentally to regain my strength for a possible surprise attack later.
I realize quickly that chance may never come, when I lurch up, the harness tipping, and I'm in a standing position without being able to touch the ground.
The dark-haired woman, with the Betty Paige haircut steps forward, and even in this warped time, my dick takes notice of the colorful tattoos that cover most of her tight body.
She moves behind me, lightly running her hands up my back, which I think for a moment could be ok—that I may have gotten the wrong idea about the situation—but then, she pinches a chunk of skin at my shoulder blade area hard enough to make me flinch. A sharp stab bites, letting me know that this whole movie thing was not for me, that I may be the star in this film in a very different way. It causes my heart to sink as the roles are reversed.
I should’ve known. I've never been lucky.
The other shoulder gets the same treatment. I can feel the blood trickle from those areas. Panic turns to hysteria—an even higher-level claws it's way in when a jerking tug hefts my shoulders up. A yelp lodges in my throat.
The last girl, the petite, naked, blonde, with youthful pigtails and doe eyes a shade of lavender I’ve never seen before, comes to my front and releases the harness from my middle. I remain suspended by the hooks in my shoulders.
Her barbie doll body presses against me. I try to shake her loose, but I have no real plan. What the fuck could I possibly do now? I think hard about my options. Pleading is never going to work—these don't seem like amateurs, and this doesn't seem like an accident.
They've brought me here under the guise of satisfying my sickest fantasy, and I fucking fell for it like a jack ass. I mentally chastise myself.
Escaping the hooks suspending me from the ceiling is a no-go.
How did I miss those?
How did I miss the rig that caught me in the first place? —may be a better question.
I look to the ceiling for the answers that don't come. The room was built for this trap.
It dawns on me… why the fuck would this girl let me do all that stuff to her in the first place? They could have just locked me up before it had even gotten this far. What the fuck kind of sick twisted games are these bitches in to?
The ginger girl’s ass has got to be torn from what I did to it with no lube—and she played the victim so fucking well.
Who the fuck are these women?
"What if I had started with the really sharp stuff?" I blurt out, honestly wondering about it, and also trying to buy some time to think more about my escape.
“Please, you guys are all the same—so excited to fuck—instant gratification is your genders downfall. If you had gone too far too quickly, my girls would have jumped in. A toe nail is nothing, Brin had half of her pinky lopped off by one of you fuckers our first year. We don’t fuck around anymore. Now shut up," she says to me. Then, addressing her raven-haired friend, who is holding up said pinky in a way that declares she’s proud of it, she says, "Brin, why don't you get Wesley’s ass hooks in place. He looks like he's ready to play now."
"I don't want to play," I whimper, sounding pathetic and juvenile.
The tattooed girl gets to work, looking a little too excited to be t
asked with something so horrible. I feel the familiar pinch at the top of my ass cheek, and then, what I've come to know as the hook being inserted. A burning fire deep in the chunk of flesh at my hip lights up. The barbie girl is quick to give her friend help with the other side.
They rotate me into position and I'm back to facing the mattress, arms and legs hanging, but my midsection is up.
The piercing hooks aren't hurting anymore. I've seen suspension videos before and always thought it looked so painful, but after the initial burn that feels like a searing fire, it numbs quickly.
Brin, the tattooed girl, smacks Fiona on the ass. "You're up, copper top, make it a good one."
"The subscribers are gonna love this," Fiona says to her.
I roll my eyes, "I don't think a bunch of men are going to want to see you hurt me, if that’s your angle, it’s a shit one," I say, hoping I can grab at something that might give them pause.
"Oh," the blonde laughs high-pitched and wildly claps her hands, "this fucker thinks our viewers are men!" To me, she says, "honey, we have just shy of a million subscribers—all women. I think we know what tantalizes our audience."
"What the fuck?” I say, not loud enough to be heard and I’m not expecting a response.
How the fuck does that even happen? Women don't like this shit; they don't need this. It astonishes me that there are three women into this, let alone a whole underground group of bitches that subscribe to this sort of stream.
There really is some crazy shit out there in the world. It’s scary how fucking unassuming they look. All three of these women are the type you'd see in the grocery store, shopping for their families, not kidnapping and torturing men. Over a million subscribers...there are so many, they can't all be here for gruesome acts of violence and blood, this has to be some hardcore dominatrix type shit and not the most extreme stream, this is something I can survive.
The two girls walk behind me, but I can't take my eyes from Fiona. I nearly swallow hard enough to chase my tonsils to my stomach when she gets on all fours under me, aiming her pussy right at me. Needless to say, I’m confused.
Turning her head to look at me, she says, "what was that you said about fucking me raw? Wanting my pussy to bleed." She wiggles her ass, "it doesn’t feel raw, maybe you need to try harder."
I nearly laugh—my dick is never going to comply with her. I guess that's why I never thought something like this could happen to men. Whether it be with women behind the wheel, or not. You can't force a man hard, especially when he’s nearly pissing himself.
My cock would never cooperate with her—or me, even if I really wanted this. "Good luck with that. I can't imagine you think I could actually get hard right now." I’m surprised I’m able to reach the level of sarcasm that I do in the state I’m in. It all feels like a waste of time.
"Oh, I came up with an idea for that, it’s so good, I practically copyrighted it. It works wonders—and the subs love it." There’s a glee in her eyes that stops my heart, this is a sick bitch.
I think for a minute she means submissives, but it doesn’t look like this group is leaning that way. Which is weird, I've always thought it was the norm—that women loved to please and be dominated. And most importantly, I kinda thought they were nurturers not torturers. Wicked trickery is what all this is. My whole life is a lie.
Keeping my eyes diverted from hers calms me a little. I've seen excitement in the eyes of children at Christmas, and considers that to be the epitome of the word. This freak looks ready to come right now, just thinking about what horrible things she's planning to do.
"Ladies, as requested, we have our dad bod here." Brin is talking the way girls do when they’re trying to be cute, and I assume it's for her subs.
"This boy wanted to kill Fiona. Can you fucking believe it? We found him on the dark web, sniffing around for some snuff," a pause, and then, "that's right, he is about to regret that." Brin laughs, and then they all laugh. "Fiona wants to use her special technique to get him big and hard for her."
Looking dead at me, Brin says, "Wes, they love it. Looks like you're going to be able to fuck Fiona like you've always dreamed."
"Yes, ladies,” she continues her announcement with her eyes still on me, “we will definitely sock this sick fuck."
Fiona says something, drawing my attention away from Brin, "I am the inventor the sock." She winks, poking her tongue to her top lip. A look I would want to see at the far end of a bar, not right now, never right now. I have to look away.
The blonde girl comes forward with a small bag, setting it on the table.
Brin turns her focus to the ladies online. I'm hoping against everything, that they will talk her out of this, but she keeps laughing, and I don't think that's the mood everyone is in.
"Bella, glad you're here!" she shouts at the screen. "This guy bought one of your films, it's forty-grand-guy!"
That rings a bell. I paid forty-grand for one of the videos I have. It’s my prized possession. I used one of my annual bonuses for it—the entire thing. I’d told Steph the company fucked me over. I had to talk her out of making me quit. It was a horrible time for our marriage, and one that only seemed worth it when I was reminded of what the money bought.
Brin brings the laptop over to me, and I'm face to face with the living, breathing, petite girl from my favorite film—my forty-grand film—as expected, and dreaded, my stomach drops.
I’m a fucking idiot.
It had all looked so real, the hole in her side, the massive things inserted into her, stretching her open. Gaping her ass wide enough to give birth out of it.
It’s like seeing a ghost, here she is now, nerdy glasses surrounding the eyes I've come to countless times as they looked to have lost the vibrance of life—laughing at me now with a twinkle.
"Hey, Wes, thanks for the check. My son goes to private school now, and I got these babies." She lifts her top and shows her new giant boobs. I can't help but hope I get another chance to see them.
"You're welcome," I say, sarcastically. It makes her laugh.
Brin sets the laptop on the metal table, covering the implements on its top. She angles it up so that my image fills the screen, bringing to light my situation once again.
"Casey, Brin, get that dick ready for me," Fiona says, sounding oddly excited.
All the times I’d fantasized about hearing those words, two hot chicks ordered to fluff me… and this is how it happens. Just my luck. The coveted words don't bring my heart-rate up in anticipation of pleasure, instead, my unease skyrockets.
I feel hands on me immediately, but not on my dick, like I expect—where I think it should happen, no, they are at my asshole. A cool instrument is inserted with little finesse and I am reaching upward to new levels of terror. Then I feel it stretching and opening me—and I am launched to a whole new kind of fear throughout my body, I shudder.
"Speculum is in, moving on to the larger stretcher," I hear one of them say, in a tone befitting a medical assistant in a legit procedure.
"I'm so excited for this," Fiona, the fucking freak, says. Her hand comes up between her legs and she smacks her pussy hard, a sticky string of her wetness clings to her fingers as her hand comes back down for a second smack, sounding wetter this time.
The bipolar sensations are wreaking havoc inside of me. Watching a hot girl, with a perfect ass—the smell of her arousal like a marketable air freshener, invading me, inserting her fingers into her wet hole. While the unfamiliar pain in my ass reminds me that they have stretched me apart like what happens in one of my videos.
I don't know their exact purpose for doing it and that possibly makes it even more terrifying than knowing… I think.
"You guys, let's just call this whole thing off, let me down." Hearing the panic tone in my own voice cements a certainty into the situation, solidifying the foundation of a fear that seems to grow bigger by every second.
"Ok Fiona, get ready, I'm making the incision now." The clacking from the laptop keys remind m
e I'm on full display for a bunch of sick fucking women.
“Incision!?” My heart runs wild.
Fiona speaks up, belittling me, "don't worry, Wesley, in a minute, you're going to have a big 'ol dick for me. You'll get to fuck me until I'm so raw, just like you wanted."
"You can't get me hard while doing all this, just let me down and I'll get my head in the game. Then we can do whatever you have in mind." I'm begging Fiona, she seems to be the leader in all of this. "Ask the audience, maybe they'd like that more.” Even I nearly laugh at my hopefulness.
"Girls?" she says, polling the audience.
The responses she gets back must not be in my favor, they all laugh.
"Resounding no. Sorry, Wesley. What I have in mind is happening. I want your big dick to fuck me raw. So, I'm having the girls back there open up your asshole, then, that thin layer of flesh separating your dick from said hole, well, Casey is going to make an incision three inches long. Then, Brin will go in from your asshole through that taint incision, and push that big dildo into your cock, like a foot in a sock—a sock-cock, if you will… and you will."
I feel them making the incision before she’s even done talking, and it steals my voice, pain holding it hostage.
I try to scream when I see the big red dildo disappear from the table, nearly choking on the dryness in my mouth, nothing comes out. Tears fall, running down my cheeks, as I feel the massive phallus force into my asshole.
The searing pain as it stretches the slit they’ve made churns my stomach, but nothing is more painful than the pressure I feel in my flaccid dick as the girl’s shove and stretch me until the dildo is sheathed by my cock.
Risking what sanity I have left, I feel compelled to look down and see what they’ve done.
Shock and nausea take over at the sight of my cartoon dick and I dry heave until I'm dizzy. My head feels fuzzy and I pass out.
***
"He's really holding up well, the last boy was such a mess by this time," I hear one of them saying, and I wish I was still out—or dead.