PORN: A Novel of Extreme Horror, Sex and Gore

by Matt Shaw

  For the second time this evening I felt sick. Hold it in. Need to hide when he gets here. Need to take him by surprise. Can hardly do that if I line his floor with vomit.

  * * * * *

  I walked over to the pillar, where Harry had been previously bound, and scanned the area on the floor. There it is. The small butt-plug I’d earlier used to loosen Harry’s rectum. I picked it up trying not to get a hold of the shit covered end.

  “Nearly at the point where we’re going to need to…Well…No sense ruining the surprise for you.” I looked at him to see if there was any reaction. Nothing. His eyes were closed as he continued to roll from side to side - still in agony. I wonder if he even heard me? Not a problem if he didn’t. He’ll soon understand what’s happening. Not long to go now.

  With the plug in one hand, I took a hold of the bag of goodies with my spare hand and took them over to where Harry was sprawled out. I let go of the bag and positioned myself next to Harry’s dirty rectum once more.

  “I know what’s coming,” I told him despite knowing he wasn’t really hearing me, “so I’ll be nice again to show that despite what you did to me, there is still a part of me deep down admittedly, which does have feelings and care for the well-being of people.”

  “Please…” I could barely hear Harry’s words as they came from his mouth, “kill me…”

  I laughed. “I will. That you can count on. But not yet. Are you not even curious to know what I did to your colleague? Your so-called business partner? Not even a little bit?”

  I reached down with the small plug and re-inserted it into Harry’s arse. He barely registered it. So much pain going on in his body - it wouldn’t surprise me if he couldn’t. He’ll be thankful though. Might not know it yet but he will definitely be thankful in the long run. Thankful for the stretching of his tender ring.

  “Is that nice?” I asked him as I started gently fucking him with the toy. “Can you even feel it?” He didn’t answer my question. I was a little disappointed at the lack of appreciation. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered with this little act of kindness. Perhaps I should have just continued with the story at hand.

  * * * * *

  I was hiding under the bed. My heart was beating so hard I thought he’d hear it the moment he walked into the bedroom. I was even paranoid that my breathing was too loud. I held my breath as he flicked the light switch on. He walked over to the bedside cabinet and turned the small lamp on. With that on, he returned to the doorway and killed the main light. The room was only illuminated by the small lamp now. The mattress groaned as he threw himself into the middle of the bed. A slight panic as it sagged towards me - a little part of me worried that I’d get crushed.

  Despite putting myself into this position - I was scared. Scared of being discovered, hiding here, scared of making a mess of what I wanted to do, scared - I guess - that I wouldn’t have the guts to go through with it. That I’d panic at the last minute and try and get away - something, I’m sure, I wouldn't manage. Not a second time. Especially now I know where he lives. If I don’t go through with this…and if he discovers me - he’ll make sure I don’t live to try it another day. I need to go through with this. I need to make him suffer for what he had done to me.

  I heard him move around on top of the bed before the light went out. More movement from the top of the bed as he made himself comfortable. I gripped the two knives in either hand and prepared myself…This is it. Now or never.

  * * * * *

  Still fucking Harry’s arse, I hooked a knife from the bag and placed it against the skin of Harry’s neck. He closed his eyes as he braced himself for the blade to slice his neck.

  “Not yet,” I told him as, with my other hand, I pulled the plug from his arse and threw it away. “I was hiding under Tom’s bed waiting for him to turn the lights out. As soon as he did so, I moved out from where I was lurking…I placed the blade of one of the kitchen knives against his throat before flicking the bedside lamp on. Should have seen his face. His expression. When he saw me. He recognised me immediately. I won’t lie, that made me happy…Saved me having to remind him of what he had done to me. Saved wasting time after all - I wasn’t sure if his wife was due home…I wasn’t sure if we were going to get interrupted. I just wanted to do what needed to be done and get out. In and out as quiet as possible. Not that I needed to be quiet. He screamed. Man did he scream.”

  CONFESSIONS

  “What are you doing here?” Tom asked. Panic in his voice. Clearly a rhetorical question. He knew what I was doing there. He knew what was coming.

  “Wanted to talk to you,” I told him.

  “Talk?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “What the fuck do you want to talk about?”

  What was this? False bravado? He doesn’t fool me. I can see the fear in his eyes. I can see he is uncomfortable with the situation and I can see in his eyes that he knows he isn’t the one in control. In this instance - unlike the last time - the power was mine.

  “I want to talk about that night,” I told him, “I want to talk about what you did to me.”

  “It was just business,” he said. He didn’t sound as ‘angry’ now. In fact, he sounded as scared as he looked.

  “Tell me more about the business,” I ordered him. I wanted to know whether I was a one-off or whether it was a regular thing. I already knew the answer though. I already knew. The real question was - how many people had he seen before me? How many girls - whether they be prostitutes or actresses…How many girls hadn’t made it off the film set? At least - made it out whilst they were breathing?

  “It’s just business.”

  “We’ve covered that. Tell me what happens. How does it work?”

  “What?”

  “I want to know. We never got to the end…I got scared and left if you remember. Have to be honest, thought you guys would have spent more time looking for me…”

  “We did look for you. We thought you drowned.”

  “You didn’t think of looking a little further down the river? That was a mistake you won’t live to regret.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You look scared.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I can see it in your eyes. It’s not nice, is it? The knowledge that you’re going to die. Not a nice feeling to have. Tell me - is your family flashing through your mind? Happier days you’ve previously lived? I didn’t have that feeling immediately but - when I was in the river - I did have flashes…Made me want to live. Made me realise I had much to lose. Do you have much to lose? A pretty wife?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Clearly not going to get much more from him continuing down this path. I changed tact, “Do you want to live? And, please, don’t say fuck you again. Let’s have an honest answer for a change - a straight answer. Do you want to live?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell me about the business you run.”

  “People pay good money…”

  “To what?”

  “To watch. They like watching.”

  “Watching what? I want you to say it.”

  “To watch us hurt women.”

  “Why film it?”

  “You think it’s just the people who were there who wanted to see? We can only have a select few people on the site or else…Wrong people could get invited and…”

  “You’re scared of the police making an appearance. So what? You film it and offer people the chance to see it online? For a subscription of course?”

  “Yes. Please. Move the knife.”

  “I don’t think so.” I pushed the knife against his throat harder. Must have cut the skin a little as a small trickle of blood ran down his throat and onto the pillow. Nothing a plaster won’t fix. He winced in pain. I didn’t take the pressure off.

  “How much? The people who were there? How much did they pay?”

  “A thousand.”


  “A thousand?” I felt sick. The thought that there were people out there who were willing to pay that sort of money just to watch someone get hurt (and killed). It’s a sick world.

  “And where do these people come from? How do you get that audience?”

  “I don’t deal with that side of things. I’m just the guy on camera…That’s Harry’s domain…Please…I’ve told you everything.”

  “No you haven’t. There’s still much to talk about.”

  “I heard Harry talking to someone. Apparently someone paid more to finish me off…”

  “The golden ticket.”

  “The golden ticket?”

  “He was the one who’d kill you, when the time came. He’d paid the most - in a bidding war via text…It was always the same; highest bidder got to pull the trigger.”

  I took a moment to try and make sense of it; to try and figure out why there were people out there who wanted to hurt others so badly that they’d pay good money to do so. It scared me that I couldn’t think of an answer. Certainly not a sane one.

  Keeping the knife against his throat, with the pressure applied, I crawled over him and laid down next to him. Pushing against him, I managed to move him onto his side so that I was behind him, still reaching around to keep the knife against him. He was shaking. Quite funny really - how pathetic he looked when the shoe was on the other foot. I wished I’d had a camera to record it. Something to remember him by in years to come when he was nothing but dust and bone.

  “How much was my life worth?” I asked him. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know.

  “Ten grand.”

  “Ten?” I wasn’t sure what the value should have been but it seemed a lot for something which would have been over within a second - for the man pulling the trigger at least.

  “How can I track these people down?”

  “We don’t have their details. Just numbers and they’re deleted after each session. No connection. We use pay as you go phones and swap them after each film…”

  “What? Then how do you build your audience?”

  “The website. It’s always through the site. When we want to make a new film, when we’re ready, we advertise a new number…I swear…”

  “What about your friend Harry?”

  “I have his number. My business phone - the one downstairs on charge in the living room - it has his number stored. Please…Take it…”

  “Oh I will.”

  I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to track down all the people - at least, all the people who were on the set. I’d wanted to make them all pay but…Well…I wouldn’t know where to start. The only reason I got here - to Tom - was sheer fluke.

  “Want to know a secret?” I asked him. He didn’t answer. Must have thought it a rhetorical question. “Before you got silly - you know, heavy footed - I enjoyed some of what you did to me…Actually enjoyed it. One bit in particular…You know which bit?”

  “What?” he stuttered.

  I purred in his ear, “I liked it when you fucked my ass.”

  He didn't say anything. His lack of response surprised me.

  “You like it in the ass?” I asked him, breathing seductively into his ear. “It’s okay - don’t be shy…We’re all friends, aren’t we?” I repeated the question, “You like it in the ass more than the pussy?”

  “Yes,” he stuttered again.

  “You want it in the ass now?” I asked him. “The girl, earlier - the one you picked up from the estate…Did she get it in the ass?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she enjoy it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Make her cum?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so? You know - there’s a g-spot in the man’s ass…The prostate and if handled correctly…It can give the man a really powerful orgasm. Did you know that? I’ve been on some sets where the director wanted the man to experience it…And - I have to say - at first I was dubious…But having seen it with my own eyes…It’s true. Some of the actors I worked with - they said it was the most intense orgasm they’ve ever had…”

  “What are you doing?” he asked. What I was doing was running a plastic handled knife up and down his crack with my other hand.

  “You fucked my ass, seems only fair that I fuck yours. Aren’t you just a bit curious to see if it’s true - the fact men can have an even more intense orgasm with a little prostate massage?” I kept my voice low, non-threatening - seductive even. I didn’t wait for an answer as I slowly pushed the plastic handle in. He winced away. Whoops. My bad. Should have used a little lubrication or spit to make it easier for him. I pulled out slowly and pushed back in - a motion I kept repeating until he started to sigh. “Is that nice?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he sighed. His tone was weird - a cross between a man being pleasured and a man fearful for his own life. Pathetic.

  “Want me to carry on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Want me to hit that fabled g-spot?”

  “Yes.”

  * * * * *

  With the knife against Harry’s throat still, I reached into the bag and pulled out a large black dildo. Not just any dildo though. This one had been modified. The end sharpened to a point. I threw the knife to the other side of the warehouse - just in case Harry suddenly found the strength to make a grab for it when I put it on the floor - and rolled Harry onto his front. He screamed out in pain but I ignored him. I gobbed down onto the dildo and gave it a quick wank with my hand - to get the spit all over it, ensuring the whole tool was slippery. Perfect. Then - with no warning - I stabbed down onto Harry’s rectum as hard as I could. The dildo went straight into his ass with no problems - no doubt thanks to both the lube and the fact it had been sharpened to a point. Once again - Harry screamed out. He was feeling what Tom had already experienced.

  * * * * *

  I pulled the handle of the knife out again and quickly span it around in my hand before thrusting back into Tom’s ass with the sharp point. He screamed so loudly I thought the whole cul-de-sac was going to wake up and come investigating. Didn’t stop me though as I started fucking his ass as hard and deeply as I could.

  “You like that, bitch?” I screamed as my motions became more frenzied. Soon both the mattress, the sheets, Tom and I were saturated in blood. At this point, realising our time was coming to an end, I ran the second knife across his throat. A fine jet stream of blood burst from the major artery I’d successfully sliced through as he started to gargle - the sweet sounds of a dying man.

  * * * * *

  “Don’t you dare pass out, you motherfucker!” I screamed at Harry as I continued to fuck his ass. I wasn’t done with him. I had one more trick up my sleeve. One more for him to enjoy before I’d finally let him die.

  I pulled the sharpened dildo out of his ass and threw it close to where the knife had landed. I knew it would have done some damage but even I was a little shocked by the amount of blood coming out. Looking at it - it wouldn’t be long before he bled to death. And whilst it wouldn’t be the nicest way for him to go - I had something even better up my sleeve.

  “Don’t you dare fucking pass out. I’m not done with you yet. Cunt! We’re not done!” I climbed to my feet and hurried out to the back room once more - the final tool I’d need for the evening was in there, waiting for this moment. I couldn’t help but smile when I walked into the room and saw it. Right there, on the floor, where I’d left it. I’d been waiting for this for a long time. A weird feeling rushing through me; I can’t wait to get started and yet, at the same time, I want to delay it because I know - once we get going - it’s over. No one survives this for more than a couple of seconds. No one.

  KILLING HARRY

  I looked at Tom’s corpse from the foot of the bed where I was standing. The blood still dripping from my turned-on body. I was numb. It surprised me, this feeling. I thought I’d feel - I don’t know - maybe a little ‘good’ for killing him. The pain he had put me through, the suffering I had endured…I
thought I’d feel a little satisfaction for killing him. Maybe I will do when the adrenalin stops? Maybe - at that point - things will be better? I paused as I gave it a little more thought - no, I won’t. I don’t feel satisfaction because I know he is still out there. Harry. All the time he is out there I won’t feel what I yearn to feel. It’ll just consume me. I need to find him. I need to finish this.

  I remembered what Tom had said about his mobile phone. Harry’s number was on it. All I had to do was text him, let him know I needed to meet up…Let him know I’d…I smiled as a plan formed in my mind…I’d tell him I had seen me - the girl that got away - and that we needed to talk. That would get him out from whatever rock he was hiding under. That would do it.

  I hurried from the room and down the stairs. A quick look around and I soon stumbled across Tom’s mobile phone - on charge just as he’d told me it was. Another smile. I picked it up - pulling it from the charger’s lead - and immediately started scanning through the mobile phone until I came across the number I was seeking. There it was. 07557980571. All I had to do was send him a text…Tell him to meet me and that’s it…I could have the revenge I yearned for. I could stop him from doing this to anyone else again. I could make him feel everything I had felt on that night. Let him know what people experienced just so he could earn a little extra money.

  I felt my blood start to boil as I remembered the night and thought about the experiences other girls had suffered. He needs to suffer. He needs to feel pain. He needs to feel what we had felt. And then - and only then - he needs to die.

  I slid the phone into my pocket and hurried back up the stairs to fetch the knives. I grabbed them from the bed and went back down the stairs. Night would be turning to day soon and I really can’t be around here for morning commuters to see leaving the property. I needed to sneak out just as I had sneaked in. In the kitchen I suddenly stopped dead; my attention caught by something sitting on the side - on the kitchen table to be more specific. Something that hadn’t been there when I first had walked in. Something he must have brought home with him, when he returned from dropping the prostitute off…Something which would surely come in handy…