PORN: A Novel of Extreme Horror, Sex and Gore

by Matt Shaw

  * * * * *

  “Thank you, Tom…” I said (to myself) as I lifted the heavy chainsaw off the floor. I wasn’t sure whether it was in Tom’s house for a legitimate reason or whether it was part of their side-line business operations. I was hoping it was for the latter because - if that were the case - Harry was about to experience what other people had been forced to endure. Although, to be honest, it’s not the end of the world if it’s a virgin tool to this lifestyle. It’ll still be fun. It’ll still be a fitting way to end his unpleasant life.

  I walked back through to the main part of the warehouse and was surprised to see that, despite his horrific injuries, he was trying his best to crawl towards the exit. A waste of energy if you ask me because - looking at him - there’s no way he’d get much further than the door before passing out (again). I strolled up behind him holding the chainsaw with two hands due to the weight of it. How people can use these machines for long beats me - so damned heavy.

  “Where are you going?” I asked him - a hint of delight in my tone at the fact he was clearly desperate to survive. The ‘delight’ coming from the fact that despite his wants - I knew he wasn’t going to survive. I knew that, within the next five minutes, he’d be dead. He didn’t answer me. Too busy concentrating on fighting through the unbearable pain to answer me. Too busy trying to crawl his way, dragging his dead legs, towards his supposed freedom. Deluded man. There is no freedom. “Recognise this?” I asked him. I lifted the chainsaw up. He didn’t turn around to see what I was referring to. He just kept going - making slow progress yet still trying. “I took it from Tom’s house. I was hoping you could tell me whether he was going to use it for, I don’t know, some pruning perhaps or whether it was part of your business. A tool you guys used. In fact, if you could have a look at everything I brought with me tonight - even the bag, I’d be grateful if you could say whether you’ve seen it before. Whether you’ve used it on other women before. You see, I took it all from Tom’s house…”

  Under the table, where I’d found the chainsaw, I’d seen the bag. Curiosity had got the better of me and I had had to take a look; had to see if there was anything else that would be as useful as the chainsaw. Imagine my delight when I had found the hammer and the chains. It was then I had formulated the plan. I would text Harry - pretending to be Tom - and warn him I’d seen me. I wasn’t dead. I was still out there and that could only spell trouble for the pair of them. I sent him a text saying that we needed to meet up to discuss it as - details - it couldn’t be talked about on the phone. I left it at that. Too many details, I thought, and he’d get suspicious. I pressed ‘send’ and within a couple of minutes, despite the time, I received a reply. Harry. It simply asked where and when Tom wanted to meet.

  And that’s how we ended up back here - the same warehouse where they had based my attack. It made sense. I suggested – by text - to Harry that we needed to meet the following evening and gave him a time. Clearly it was safe to carry out the meeting here. Had it not been safe, they’d never have brought me here on that night. For all I know - one of them actually owned the warehouse and this was the only purpose it served; four walls to hide the torturous events which unfolded under the roof. That was - of course - best case scenario but even if they didn’t own it and someone did swing by to see what I had done (or was doing) - who cares? So I’d go to prison. Locked up for seeking the justice I believed these fucks deserved. My life is over anyway. It was the moment they first touched me. I was fine with going to prison. I really was. It wasn’t as though I was trying to hide the crimes I was committing. I didn’t care if they were discovered. Hell, I wanted them to be found. I wanted them to serve as a warning to the fucks out there, like Tom and Harry, who believe they have the right to carry out such atrocities the way they did with me. I want them to know that people aren’t afraid to stand up to them and that - if they’re not careful - they’ll end up as the bodies I left behind.

  Thinking back to Tom’s house - as I continued to laugh at Harry struggling to make any progress on the floor - the chainsaw, hammer and chains weren’t the only things I had taken from the seemingly nice family home. Knowing the pain I wanted to inflict, I had gone back up to where his corpse was slowly rotting and grabbed the knives I’d used to kill him. A quick look around, in the drawers, to see if there was anything else of use and I found the sex toys. More than I needed - dildos of various shapes and sizes, butt-plugs, penis enlarger; he had the whole collection. I took the biggest of dildos and the butt-plug and that was it. Without tidying up behind me I ran from his house whilst still in the witching hour. Sticking close to the walls I hurried back to my car in the next cul-de-sac as quickly as I could, considering the excess weight of the bag over my shoulder and the chainsaw in my hands. I threw the stuff in the boot and high-tailed it out of there; back to my own apartment for the last time.

  “It had been the first time I’d gone back to my apartment since that night,” I told Harry for no other reason than completion of the story. The last piece of the picture I felt he deserved to see. “The latex cat-suit, this one, the one you made me wear that night - it was on the floor where I’d dropped it when getting changed whilst the good samaritan was waiting for me. Seemed fitting to wear it for the meeting, don’t you think?”

  Harry still didn’t answer me - still too busy trying to make his feeble escape. Considering how far he’d managed to drag himself I couldn’t help but wonder whether he knew it was pointless. Did he really believe he was getting anywhere?

  “I’m looking forward to this,” I told him, “to killing you. The only thing that bothers me is the fact I know you’re not the only ones who deserve to die. The other men - the voyeurs on the set - they deserve to die as well. If they’re happy to pay to watch someone get tortured and killed then they deserve everything they have coming their way. The same as you and Tom. I hate the thought of them thinking they’ve gotten away with it. Not sure if Tom was telling the truth when he told me you don’t keep their details but - just so you know - when you’re dead I’m going to take that driving licence in your wallet, the one I found when I stripped you - and I’m going to search your house from top to bottom. Any signs of these fucks, or any of the people who like to log onto your website…I’ll go after them. I’ll do everything I can to find them and hurt them. If Tom was telling the truth and you do not have the details anywhere, or I can’t find them - well I guess that’s the end of the road. They get away with it. At least I can go to my grave knowing you didn’t though. I can die knowing you’re rotting in a special place in Hell. Just as you deserve.”

  Harry screamed out. Nothing in particular. No apology. No insult. Just a scream.

  Those last few hours - in the apartment - before heading out here to prepare the warehouse for Harry’s arrival…They were spent thinking about all the things I wanted to do to him. The chainsaw being the grand finale. Ideas about fucking his ass with a dildo - sharpened to a point whilst counting down the hours, the hammer to beat his body to a broken mess, the tying him to the pillar - everything was considered and planned. I even got the padlocks from my suitcases to ensure he couldn’t break free from the chains.

  * * * * *

  I parked my car around the corner from the warehouse. I didn’t want Harry showing up only to get spooked by a strange car parked out front. It was two hours prior to our meeting. Again, if Harry showed up early - it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d already be there, waiting. I couldn’t see him showing up as early as this. Maybe thirty minutes or so before the scheduled meeting but not two hours.

  I had carried the stuff through to the warehouse - climbing in via a broken window at the back of the property - and dumped it all in the room out back. The main floor of the warehouse was empty other than a little litter in the corner. The bed, which was used during our time together was missing, and obviously there were no signs of the cameras. Of course not - they wouldn’t leave either behind. Luckily I had brought my own camera along. Sure it wasn’t as fancy a
s the ones they had used but - even so - it was better than nothing. Something, at least, to capture our moment together. Something, at least, to permit me the opportunity to upload to their sordid website at a later date (if I could figure it out or find his computer).

  The plan was relatively straight forward. With my possessions stashed, I was going to lie in wait, just to the side of the warehouse door. There was only one ‘normal’ way in and one shutter entrance so it wouldn’t have been hard to hear which entrance he was going to use. I’d wait for him to step into the building and I’d wait for the door to shut. Then - and only then - I’d rush him and hit him with the hammer. Hopefully one blow would be enough to knock him out but worst case it would be enough to stun him - and a second blow, maybe third, would get him unconscious. Actually, the worst case was the one hit could kill him outright but I didn’t have any choice but to try. After all - there was no other way I’d be able to subdue him.

  God I hope it doesn’t kill him.

  Only now I was in position, patiently waiting, did I start to panic about my plan. My brain playing the game of ‘what if’. What if he sees me before I have a chance to hit him? Considering I am only pressed up flat against the wall beside the door he’ll be using - it’s possible he will see me. What if he manages to wrestle the hammer from me? What if he doesn’t come alone? What if there are more people with him? I won’t be able to fight them all off. My heart was beating hard and fast when the door handle finally turned.

  This is it.

  The moment I’ve been waiting for.

  I gripped the hammer tightly and prepared myself.

  * * * * *

  “You know the rest,” I told Harry. “You went down like a sack of shit. I thought I had killed you. I only realised I hadn’t when I felt your pulse. Out for the count as planned. Long enough for me to chain you to the pillar - no easy feat I can tell you. Long enough to change into the latex cat-suit. Long enough to carry on dreaming about what I was going to do to you. Long enough to think of this moment.” I smiled. We were here. The moment I’d been waiting for.

  I powered up the chainsaw. The loud roar of the motor as the saw span around in a blur. I started to laugh as I inched it closer and closer to his rectum. He started screaming before it even touched his skin. Music to my ears that - despite the roar of the chainsaw’s blade - I could still hear the screams perfectly.

  “Fuck you!” I shouted as I pressed the saw into his flesh. His scream changed pitch entirely - a pitch I’d never heard before as the skin tore from his body in splatterings upon splatterings of blood. I screamed again, “FUCK YOU!” I pushed down with the chainsaw; no resistance from his skin as it sliced through him as though his body were nothing. Skin turned to muscle which turned to bone. I pulled out slightly before pushing back in and pulling out again; fucking his ass with the heavy-duty tip of the saw. I could have gone all the way through his body had I chosen to do so but - no - that was too easy. I pulled the chainsaw out and kicked his body over so he was on his back; cock-side up. His body was convulsing as blood poured from behind him onto the floor. He’s practically dead so I can but only hope he still feels this. I pressed the chainsaw down onto his genitals and let the motor do its work. By the time I lifted the saw back up again his penis was nothing but shredded skin. No scream from him though. I looked at his face, his body still violently shaking, and his eyes had rolled to the back of his head. Blood and drool spilling from his mouth. That fucking face. I could still picture the look on his face when he was unchaining me from the bed, the smug fucking grin as he whispered that I had my freedom now…With no hesitation I took the chainsaw to his face and slice in an upward motion - careful not to go too deep. I didn’t want to take his head off. Just his face. It came off in one satisfying chunk and left nothing behind but a perfect cross-section of the inside of his head…His mouth (now silent), his tongue hanging there, his eye-sockets with sliced eyeballs still sitting inside and his brain - the front section sliced off along with his facial features. I killed the power of the chainsaw in time to hear his final gargled breath. Pretty sure that he was already dead. Pretty sure. The breath, no doubt, a final escape of air previously sucked in. Nothing more and nothing less. A shame though for I’d have loved for him to feel all of that. He deserved to.

  I dropped the bloodied chainsaw at my feet and just stood there a moment. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I must have looked a state, the blood splashed everywhere with each slice and dice. I could feel it in my hair, matting it up. I could feel it running down my bosom, cheeks…I looked around the room and couldn’t quite believe the distance the spray had travelled.

  With no warning I screamed out loud - as loud as I could - and dropped to my knees and burst into tears. I allowed myself the luxury of tears for a minute or two before I slapped myself in the face, “Stop it!” Still crying. I slapped myself harder, “Stop it! Pull yourself together! Stop it!” I covered my hands with my eyes. A little bit of darkness, a little bit of blocking out the reality of where I am. A little time to gather my senses and calm down.

  “You’re pathetic!”

  A voice. I jumped at the sound of it. I recognised who it was but I couldn’t bring myself to look. It couldn’t be real. Must be in my head. Must be. There’s no other possible solution.

  “Open your eyes, cunt!”

  It was Harry. His tone was filled with venom. But it can’t be. It can’t be him. I slowly peeled my hands away from my eyes and turned to look at him. He was there - staring at me from the floor where I’d left him. Not a drop of blood on him. In fact, he looked perfect. Not a hair out of place.

  “What the fuck is this? You’re trying to fucking kill me? What? You a fucking vigilante now?”

  “You aren’t real. You’re dead. I killed you…”

  “I said - open your eyes, you fucking cunt! OPEN THEM!”

  My vision faded to black. I blinked repeatedly until I could get it back. A struggle. I tried to rub my eyes - to try and help the process - but couldn’t. I couldn’t move.

  “I can’t move,” I cried. Panic was starting to set in. And my head…My head…Such a headache.

  “Of course you can’t. Open your fucking eyes…”

  Slowly my vision focused. I realised I was standing up. More so - I was looking at the floor. I tried to move again. I couldn’t. My hands…My feet…Chained. What the hell is going on?

  “What’s happening?” I stuttered.

  A hand went around my throat and startled to throttle me. I looked up. Harry was standing in front of me. Fully dressed. Unharmed. How is this possible? As vision started to fade again, I noticed the hammer - my hammer - in Harry’s other hand. He relaxed his grip on my neck and started to laugh.

  “What? Did you think you were going to hit me with this? Was that your plan? Hit me with the hammer and - I’m guessing - chain me to the pillar like this? Is that how it was going to be?” Harry started to laugh at me. “How’d that work out for you? Jesus - you got away from us, you were safe. We thought you were dead and yet - here you are. You could have got away with it. You could have just got on with your life and put the past in the past. But you didn’t…And now you’re here.” He paused as he looked me up and down, “I hope you don’t mind - whilst you were out cold…I put you in the outfit. Found it out back with a whole load of goodies…What? Those meant for me?” He glanced to the side. I followed his gaze and noticed the chainsaw on the floor, next to the bag of toys. “Oh - and I found that too…Thought I’d set it up for you,” he nodded to the other side of me. I turned. My camcorder was set-up recording.

  My brain ached as though it was on the verge of breaking; straining, trying to remember what had happened.

  * * * * *

  I was in position, patiently waiting, and starting to panic about my plan. My brain playing the game of ‘what if’. What if he sees me before I have a chance to hit him? Considering I am only pressed up flat against the wall by the door he’ll be using - it’s possible
he will see me. What if he manages to wrestle the hammer from me? What if he hasn’t come alone? What if there are more people with him? I won’t be able to fight them all off. My heart was beating hard and fast when the door handle finally turned.

  This is it.

  The moment I’ve been waiting for.

  I gripped the hammer tightly and prepared myself.

  Harry stepped into the warehouse. Immediately I screamed and dashed towards him, the hammer raised high in the air. He span, on the spot, and jumped when he saw me. I swung the hammer downward towards his skull and screamed again when he caught a hold of my wrist; the hammer inches from the side of his temple.

  “Get the fuck off me!” I screamed.

  I saw in his face that he recognised me, as I struggled to break free from his grip. With little effort he snatched the hammer from me and swung it towards my head. I tried to get away but tripped over my own feet. I landed on my ass as the hammer smashed past my head, mere inches away. Harry wasted no time, he stepped towards me with the hammer raised high in the air again; ready for another blow…I braced myself.

  OUR LAST SHOOT (PART 2)

  I started to cry as I continued to struggle against the restraints. Harry was still laughing at me. He composed himself long enough to address me once more.

  “How did you get his phone?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “I’ll ask you again - how did you get my friend’s phone? I mean - I’m guessing you sent me that text message…What with you standing here and him being nowhere around? And - whilst you’re explaining that…” He looked across to the chainsaw, “Pretty sure I recognise that too.”

  “Fuck you.”