Collecting Rayne

by Havok, Rayne

  "Yeah good thing he didn't have the seafood platter like the super-fat-fuck did when he came to kill Casey."

  “You guys are dicks for even bringing it up! You know I hate barf, and now I can’t even eat sushi without remembering it all over me.” Casey makes gagging sounds so realistic; it makes me nauseous myself.

  I finally come to, with pain more severe than words can describe. My ass is burning, and my dick feels like I'm trying to squeeze… another fucking dick out of it, this one, three times bigger than my own, impregnating it.

  "Fuck me, Wesley," Fiona is saying, and I realize the other girls are thrusting me into her, one on either leg, swinging me. "You want to fuck me until I’m raw, huh?"

  She taunts me in between moans of pleasure; I have no time to figure out how to handle it. The back and forth motion bringing on the worst bout of seasickness. My dick has no sensation anymore, but the pressure is enough to turn my stomach and twist my equilibrium.

  "Oh, no you don't, Wesley." She moves quickly away from me before the next heave happens, but as quick as it appeared, the nausea is gone. As long as I'm not rocking, it subsides.

  The ability to breathe, and somewhat center myself, is a welcome distraction for now. But not seeing any of the women makes me paranoid and nervous.

  Turning in both directions, as far as I can, lends me nothing in the way of relief. I hear chatter as they entertain their subscribers.

  As soon as Brin, the dark-haired nightmare woman, shows herself, I wish to fuck she hadn't.

  Mentally willing myself to weigh more so I can tear free is my last defense. She has a wicked looking whip, like Indiana Jones—but not nearly as innocuous looking. The way she cracks it in front of me, barely missing the tip of my nose, tells me she's no stranger to using it.

  Without warning, or verbal threat, she cracks it again, this time ringing a vicious scream from deep inside me. The pain from my back ripping apart makes me forget every other thing I've ever felt. Shove more dicks inside of my ass and through my dick, but never hit me like that again.

  Holy fuck!

  She seems to appreciate her handy work, striking quicker than I can prepare for, and then another. The skin on my back opens up, I feel the trickles of blood. One last flick from her wrist and then a giggle from the girls as I lose my bladder. I openly cry, heaving sobs from pain I didn’t think possible to live through.

  "It's coming out his ass!" Fiona shrieks, clapping her hands and bouncing. “Ass pisser!”

  The laughter from the computer makes me wish I was dead. It's like 4th grade, and the girls are just assholes for no reason. Chanting of my new nickname embarrasses me further—annoying.

  “Ass pisser…”

  "Gross, Wesley," Casey mocks, and being such an incognito mean-girl, it actually bothers me more coming from her.

  She dips under me to take the monster cock between both of her hands. The sensation is mild, but nothing like I'm used to, then she jacks it off. Her small hands making it look even larger than the forearm-size it is, and makes me wonder if it was painful for Fiona to have inside of her. I hope it was, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

  "I want a shot at this," instead of Casey getting to her hands and knees, the blonde wraps her arms around my neck and leaps, locking her legs around my hips, her big fake tits pressed into my chest.

  "Get him inside me." The other two help her with her request. "Oh, my god, you're so big, Wesley." Wildly, she works herself against me, getting loud and seemingly enjoying this.

  I am just relieved that she doesn’t need the other ones to move me, that was horrible. She keeps her head back awkwardly, maybe it's to keep my mouth away from her neck so I don't bite her fucking head off, I can't be sure. The other girls are holding my arms back, if they're thinking it’s saving me from choking her, it's pointless. I'd lost control of them long ago when the sensation of them ran away.

  She fucks herself into an orgasm, the sight of it confirms that I might have never actually succeeded in giving one before. Childishly, I get annoyed at that.

  She slows, exhausted, and flops on top of the mattress below, bouncing as her body hits it. Her pussy is red rimmed and raw looking.

  I ask again to be let go. But I suppose, even if they did let me go, which I'm sure is not a real option, it may not even be a worthwhile life in my future. My dick will never be the same. It will never be functional, and I almost wish for death—knowing I'll never be whole again.

  I can't even mourn that for long though, because the whispers have taught me that horrible things are coming, and this time is no different.

  Naively, I thought keeping an eye on one would have me informed, but while Casey lain there recovering, the other girls were conspiring. Bringing with them the sick fucking bitches watching the stream. Together making the most frightening fucking force ever.

  I don't know what they are doing, but I feel the pressure as they pull the dildo out of me. It's not as relieving as I thought it would be. I look at my stretched and empty dick, long enough to catch a glimpse, but I can't lose what sanity I have remaining, so I look away before I cry again, trying to scrub that from my mind.

  Oh, god, they've turned me into an empty sock puppet.

  Held back tears fall, as I try to fight them back again.

  The dildo doesn't come all the way out of my ass though, I feel them pushing it further inside my butthole, instead. I thought it had hurt being stretched, but it feels so much worse having them shove it deeper. I try to fight the intrusion to no avail. The bright red dong is as big as an arm, I’ve never had anything but a finger in my butt, and I'm not prepared for how to handle this.

  What do the men in porn tell women to do when taking their dicks? To breathe? I can’t fucking breathe!

  I'm screaming, I realize, and the audience is loving it. Smiley faces and heart eyes floating up on the screen like children’s escaped balloons.

  No lube, nothing, just two girls shoving a fist-sized cock up my butt. It takes my breath away and brings burning tears to my eyes. Again.

  "You want to fuck all my holes, Wesley?" Fiona taunts.

  And then it dawns on me, they asked what I wanted to do to the girl during my application questionnaire. These bitches are going to do it all to me. I try to recall how in depth I got with my claims and aspirations.

  Then, horrified, I remember the amputation, and I lose it. I try to struggle again, clenching my ass in vain. The dong feels so large, like it might exit through my face, as I try to push it out, birth it back into the world where it isn’t inside of me.

  The girls don't stop, they rape me with a fierce aggression. Shoving hard, heaving in tandem, like they are trying to break down a castle gate.

  The sound of nails on the keyboard making me want to lash-out. Casey grabs hold of her boobs, perfect surgical symmetry, and massages them, "Oh, Wesley, are you having as much fun as we are? You're being such a good boy," she mocks.

  "Fuck you!" I can't help but blurt out, fuck this.

  "Oh, fuck me, Wesley? How about, instead, fuck you?" Grabbing the dangling skin that is my dick now, Casey makes one quick snip with the scissors and shows me my stretched-out dick free of my body, flapping in her hand.

  "You mean with this thing?" Her laughter is heart wrenching. Swinging it around like a single wet sock, it makes me sick, this time I do hurl.

  "It makes me sick, too. You were always a limp dick; it just took us to show you what you really are."

  Leaning back, Casey crudely smacks her pussy with it, blood stains her pink flesh and she continues. Then, she takes it by the head, I can't help but look horrified, and puts it in her mouth, slurping it up like a spaghetti noodle.

  "Getting off on killing innocent women is vile and unforgivable." She tongues the tip and I cringe.

  Her hand working its way inside until she wears it like a glove. "How about you fuck yourself, literally?" Turning her head to the screen, Casey asks if anyone has any special requests.

  �
��I do.” I hear a small voice break the pause. “I have a request for forty-grand guy.”

  I have to look at the screen, focus on the voice, see who it belongs to.

  “Go ahead, chicky, what should I do?”

  “S-S-Steph?” I studder.

  “Hey Wesley,” she waves like a child spotting her mother in a crowd. Ignoring me, she tells Casey her request. “Sock fuck him hard, he deserves it, fuckin’ liar, scum!” Steph shouts.

  She never shouts.

  The girls laugh, Fiona ooooooo-ing like some secret has just been revealed. “The wife has spoken!” she announces with her finger in the air.

  I lose sight of Casey as she moves behind me, I just know she is going to put my dick inside my ass. And the sobs begin to choke me. I was just barely off about the size of the dong, it is smaller, only slightly, than a forearm. She punches my insides, I swear I can feel it inside my chest, it's impossible to catch my breath, I feel the pounding in my head as the blood pulses though my wounds.

  With an abrupt quickness, she appears in front of me, the bloodied dick-condom on her arm, proudly shown to me in crudeness.

  Then Brin asks the screen once more for requests, and I pray, like I never have, that they all say nothing, and that even this has already gone too far. That the audience might encourage the women to let me go.

  The next best thing happens… silence. No more additional things added to my already-long-list of torture.

  Casey doesn't seem to care whether there was a response. She removes my dick skin inside-out, and flops it onto the floor like a surgical glove, and that, somehow, is what does me in. I scream for help until my throat feels bloody, and then I continue, praying Stephanie has had a change of heart, it’s only money, after all.

  I can't die like this; I can't be immortalized for all the internet freaks to get off to. Especially now that I know the internet freaks are a bunch of crazy-ass fucking women.

  I can't escape, I’m a turtle stuck upside-down in his shell, there is no hope for me. No help, no rationalizing with these heartless and callous women.

  Somehow it pisses me off right now, that I learned my costly snuff films were faked, and that this, oh my fucking god, this is real.

  The planning that had gone into this is wild. They'd used that screenname for years, three at least. They had provided me with most of my collection—my fake collection. My mind loses hope. All I have now is the wish that they make this quick. That I can finally just die. I focus on that, the darkness of death and hope it’s here soon.

  And a little part of me wishes I had talked to Steph about all this after all, another part wishing she’d burn in a fiery car accident for letting them do this to me.

  Would karma help me out, surely, they’ve done more wrong than I?

  three

  I think, for a second, what it might take for me to appear so boring that they all forget about me and slink back in to the dark hellholes from whence they’ve spawned, losing all interest in me, and that they'll call it quits. I mean, really, what else could they do to me?

  Too soon, I learn the answer.

  A girl at either of my arms, spreading them wide, and then Fiona busying herself at each. I can't see from this angle, but I know there's a ligature just under each of my arm pits. My limbs, down to my fingers, which I thought were already numb, lose every ounce of sensation after tightening. A loud whirring in my ears as the blood pumps harder to break the damn.

  "Wesley, you said something about wanting to hack off my limbs. You're a real sicko. I'm sure the ladies would all love to see you lose yours, next to the sock fuck, this is their favorite. A real brutal bunch, they are," Fiona mocks me with her disdainful eyes.

  She lifts the cord and walks it over to the post at the end of the room, and then does the same to the other side. She moves with no quickness at all, which I both hate, and appreciate.

  All three girls appear in front of me, relief doesn't even begin to flourish before I feel a tugging. Then a stronger pull. The razor sharpness of something cutting into my biceps deeply, scoring my flesh. The pain intensifies as the pull continues.

  Tearing my skin and muscle from the bone, both my arms fall heavy to the ground, empty of the bones that are still attached to me. The sight of my inside-out flesh brings a new sensation along my body—a wave of dread, felt like tickling energy, envelopes me, alighting the frenzy of fear.

  I see both of my arms lying on the ground. The girls, Brin and Casey, come over to grab me by my flesh naked wrists. Fiona left holding a webcam to show me off.

  “The secret to amputation, is removing the flesh first, and then," Fiona says, wrenching my arm, a cracking sound rings through my body, shocking my ears, "remove it at the joint, like a rotisserie chicken."

  Through my hazy, shock-filled, eyes, I see the strange gleeful smile on her lips. I have to turn away before it resonates too deeply that it could have been on my face, for her to see while I toyed with her, if roles had remained the same. I’m thinking now, it may be too terrible to inflict on another human. And a sliver of regret splinters inside me, cutting inside my chest.

  I'm not awake for the second break. If there was anything else that happened in the last few minutes of peaceful unconsciousness, I don't know that either, I realize I had lost consciousness again only when I awaken.

  I’ve been lowered atop the mattress and onto my back. I try to make a run for it. That mostly happens mentally, as no part of my body will listen to instructions my brain shouts at them.

  "Wesley, do you remember what else you wanted to do to me?" Fiona sits next to me, whispering into my ear, oddly seductive.

  "I'm sorry," I say, actually meaning it. I hadn’t weighed the value of life before now—before it was mine on the scale.

  "I know that, silly," she laughs. "I also know you love a good money shot," her excitement is more chilling now.

  “Sick fucking bitches!” I shout, knowing after it’s out, that it doesn’t insult them, it doesn’t even fuel them, it just makes them giggle—those horrible twinkling sounds that I used to think made such a beautiful call to those who heard. A sound of flirty sexuality that had many a time swollen me hard. Now, sending revulsion throughout my body, instead.

  Casey walks over and brusquely slices a box cutter down the center of my chest, the blood trickles from it, pooling on either side of me. Sliding her finger inside of it, the feel of her dirty digit mangling the cut, opening it wider.

  I can only hope that this is it, let me die now.

  All three girls take standing positions above me, straddling their legs across me, and begin rubbing themselves. The thought of them able to get off on this is sickening, hypocrisy be damned. "You wanted to come inside my open wounds, remember?" Fiona taunts.

  Working in unison, they all rub quickly, moaning loudly—above the level porn should be heard, it’s too much. A hot liquid shoots from Brin’s pussy, spraying my chest and face. The burning sting inside the cut along my chest feels like salt and fire.

  Casey comes next, quivering as she inserts her finger inside her pussy and then traces it through my yawning wound, bringing it back to her mouth to suck the finger as I look on, mouth agape, I’m both horrified and disgusted.

  Fiona plops down, a leg on either side of my chest, sliding along the wetness left behind by the other two, grinding her pussy against me like a crude, makeshift slip and slide. Her eyes hood, her face contorts as she comes on me, splashing the mingling fluid about, reminiscent of a young girl at a pool party, coyly playing around.

  And then all three of them produce short bladed knives, stabbing into me, striking hard and fast until I don't feel it anymore, I don’t feel anything at all.

  ***

  "Alright, ladies, you know to keep our secrets. It's no fun to let the boys in on this. If you want to sponsor a snuff, shoot us a link to his profile.”

  "Donate to Killstreme if you want to continue to be a member and keep up-to-date with all the cool fucking shit we do," Brin s
ays to the camera as we end the night. Zooming in to the aftermath of poor Wesley.

  four

  "Hey mom, how come you're up so early?" I ask.

  "Had a scratchy throat, just up for a glass of water. Do you want breakfast?"

  "No, thank you. I'm beat, long night at work.”

  "I'm proud of you Fiona, I'm sure you're doing great things."

  I am actually having a hard time keeping upright. My entire body feels like it's been run over and the last thing I want is to take another step on this fucking toe.

  I can't tell her what the Killstreme girls and I do, but I think we are doing great things. "I am, mom. Goodnight."

  ***

  Lunch with the girls for the recap is pretty norm. We like to go over the feedback from viewers. It's important that we listen to them and give them what they want to see.

  Even though I started this with Brin, bringing Casey in a few months later—we felt like the world was missing something. And that something was us—it feels necessary to include the subscribers in a few of the aspects. Some even playing the actresses in some pretty horrific videos to target the audience we like to keep close—enemies and all that.

  Thinking that, although, women don't generally like this kind of stuff, snuff, brutality, and just plain horrible things, there had to be some that thought like us. That we could cater to the few and maybe do something about our money situations with it.

  The popularity of Killstreme among our women viewers only took half a year to grow beyond what any other company like ours ever had—mainstream or underground.

  We are who everyone goes to for their filth, but only women know it's us who run Killstreme. Be it your typical female victim snuff, hardcore, brutal… anything you need to hide on your browser, that's us.

  We have the entire market in our pocket, and production spares no expense when it comes to the finished product.

  "Did you see the reactions we got when we showed Bella to Wesley?" Brin says, "the bitches loved it! I'm thinking we could venture into a revenge thing and get even bigger. Cheaters, sickos, all of them."