Crossing the Line

by Bobe, Jordan

  Brute stood up then and turned away from Fritz. It seemed that he had lost interest in his victim. He walked to the edge of the raft and looked at the house. The enormous muscles on his back tightened.

  Fritz shoved himself away from the killer. His broken arm howled in pain and he did his best to ignore it. He had to figure out a way to escape the psycho while Brute was distracted. He rolled over and grimaced when he saw the puddle of blood where his head had cracked the raft. As he army-crawled toward the edge of the raft the world swam in and out of focus. He had no idea how severe his head wound was, but he figured he was dealing with a severe concussion.

  He had almost reached the edge of the raft when the huge hand wrapped around his ankle. He clawed for purchase as the giant lifted him up into the air. Two of his fingernails pulled away, lodged between boards. His body was in so much pain that he barely noticed the stabbing sensation as they tore away from his fingertips.

  Brute twisted him around so that he was facing the man’s massive knees. He looked up at the gruesome mask as it stared down at him. “Please,” he said. “You gotta let me go, man. You don’t know my family. They’ll burn down this entire fucking forest looking for you. Let me go and I won’t say shit to anyone.”

  Brute seemed incapable of understanding him. There was absolutely no recognition to the way he cocked his head to the side. He moved his wrist so that Fritz would begin swinging back and forth. The blood spilling from his torn scalp dotted the boards beneath his head. He looked down and saw that they were becoming more like streaks of crimson.

  Pain announced itself in Fritz’s crotch. He looked up and saw that the killer’s free hand was twisting at his penis and scrotum. He howled in pain and outrage. Brute pulled at the flesh in his hand and Fritz actually heard the skin ripping. Blood poured down his belly and chest and splattered into his eyes.

  He let his head fall limp and howled with agony. The castration was not a quick procedure. Fritz felt every second of the hand jerking his dick from side to side, shredding the muscle and skin that kept it connected to his pelvic bone.

  Just before the organ was completely removed from his body Fritz’s testicles ruptured under the intense pressure. His innards cramped as if poison had been pumped into them. And then he was falling. He crashed into the raft hard enough to jar three teeth from his gums at the front of his mouth.

  Wild with terror he reached down with his good hand and dug his fingers into a mess of tore flesh where his manhood had been. “Fuck!” he screamed. “Fuck you, motherfucker! You tore my fucking dick off!”

  Brute knelt down next to him and dangled the handful of flesh in front of his face. Fritz lashed out wildly, knocking the skull partially off of the big man’s face. This solicited the first visible response from the mad man. He punched Fritz in the mouth, cracking all of his remaining front teeth.

  Fritz screamed, blood and tooth fragments spraying from between his busted lips.

  Brute set the torn cock down long enough to right the skull mask. He picked back up the wad of flesh and chuckled. The laughter sent a shiver up Fritz’s spine. He pulled the bowie knife from his waistband and bashed Fritz’s mouth with the handle a dozen times. By the time he was finished there were only a mess of torn flesh and broken teeth left behind.

  Fritz gagged on blood as it ran down his throat. Even with the agony coursing through every inch of his body he was not prepared for the atrocity that came next. Brute stuffed the entirety of his shredded sex into his broken mouth. A huge hand clamped over his shredded lips so he could not spit the flesh back out.

  He thrashed wildly as he felt the meat sliding down his throat. His blood provided lubrication and without his teeth to cinch hold on his penis it pushed past his uvula and lodged in the back of his esophagus. A sensation akin to that he had felt while being held under the water filled his chest. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes as he choked.

  He thrashed as best as he could, the realization that he was being choked to death with his own cock was somehow worse than anything else he could imagine. Brute held his hand tightly over the dying man’s mouth. The visible part of his face didn’t so much as twitch.

  At least the sick fuck isn’t smiling, Fritz thought.

  Brute moved his hand after a moment and panic filled Fritz. He wondered what else the sick psycho had planned for him. He hoped that he would strangle to death before he found out.

  Brute flipped the bowie knife around so that the tip of the sharp blade was aimed down at Fritz’s face. He plunged it forward, the thick blade slicing straight through Fritz’s bottom jaw. The bone split in two. The razor sharp weapon split his tongue in half in the same motion.

  Brute set the knife aside and plunged his fingers into the gash that he had made. He used both hands to pry the lower jaw apart. Fritz’s chin split so that he could feel it touching the bottom of both of his ear lobes.

  Blood rushed past the clog of his manhood and filled his lungs. The knot in his chest grew tighter. The world finally began fading away completely. But before he could die he realized the murderer’s final move.

  Brute shoved his fist into the wad of flesh clogging Fritz’s throat and drove it down. It stopped just above his clavicle, leaving a visible lump in his neck. Only a few more seconds passed before Fritz finally died.

  As he passed away he wondered why the big man had come for him.

  Brute wiped the blood from his blade on Fritz’s clothes before stepping off of the raft. He vanished into the lake.

  11

  No one in the house paid attention to the sounds of Fritz’s death. The tension in the living room was so volatile that it almost seemed to be a living thing. Clint was sitting on the sofa with a chilled bottle of beer pressed to the enormous knot on his temple. The eye closest to the injury was filled with blood from a ruptured blood vessel behind it. The blow he had taken to the head had come dangerously close to killing him.

  The girls were sitting in a circle in the center of the room. They had all been stripped down and their undergarments were being used to bind their wrists. Their pants had been torn into strips and wrapped around their forearms to reinforce the bras and panties.

  Marty and Quentin were each working on their fourth drinks. Marty had skipped beer and went straight to whiskey. Quentin had been mixing beer with six ounce glasses of tequila. Stan had snorted nearly an eighth of coke as well as drinking most of a bottle of wine.

  Now that intoxication had taken hold of the three of them they seemed much more agreeable. Thad was glad that none of the others had gone the way of Justin. He should have known better than to bring Justin. The kid had to be convinced just to smoke weed. He had a big heart and often chided Thad for being too “mean” to his customers. Still, Thad had hoped that the man’s immense size would have scared everyone into submission.

  Thad had covered the big man’s corpse with a faux bear skin rug. Even as he hid the body from view he smirked as his mind popped off with a tasteless joke. He had voiced it, “Guess Justin had more brains than I thought.” No one else had laughed.

  Now he sat staring at Anna. He admired her breasts. Her nipples were erect and bright pink. They were the perfect size, just a little bit bigger than half dollars. The nipples were centered perfectly on her tits. He remembered how fun they had been to play with the last time he had gotten her naked.

  Anna was not oblivious to his staring. In fact, she felt as if she was being molested even if he hadn’t touched her yet. She knew that he had every intention of finishing what he had started. She tried to build up courage for it. She didn’t want to be raped, but she wanted to die even less. Thad had already proven that he had no problem with killing. He had shot one of his own friends. She didn’t want to imagine what he would do to her if she tried to fight against his desires.

  Stan got to his feet and smirked at Thad. “I don’t want to sit here all night, man. You called dibs on Anna, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with the others, right?” />
  “Take your pick, brother,” Thad said. He lit another joint and took a deep hit. “Ain’t no wonder you stole this shit, fatty. It’s even better than my last crop.”

  “We gave you back your weed. Why not just let us go?” Chandra asked.

  “Because my boys and I want to have a little fun. We drove an awful long way to get to you cunts, we deserve to get something out of it.”

  Stan walked around the girls, eyeing them. He stopped in front of Gabby. She dropped her eyes to the floor and scrunched down as if she could make herself invisible. Stan knelt down in front of her and smiled.

  “Eenie-meenie-minie-moe, catch a hooker by the toe, if she’s loose let her go, but only after you fuck her throat,” he sang.

  Marty laughed enthusiastically. “Now that’s some funny shit, man.”

  “I bet you ain’t loose at all are you, Gabby? There’s no way. You have to be smaller than even a size zero. Do you still wear little girl clothes?”

  Gabby didn’t respond to the question. She leaned against Lynne and kept her eyes to the floor.

  Stan reached out and gently caressed her breasts. They were barely even big enough to grab, far less than a handful. He didn’t mind that, though. It reminded him of when he went on a long weekend to Mexico. He had thought the rumors about the country’s corruption were lies until he paid twenty dollars to have sex with an eleven year old. It had been the best orgasm in his life. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the way the girl had cried or how tight she had been, but he had managed to come four times in under two hours.

  Gabby’s tiny body reminded him of the girl. Of course the eleven year old hadn’t shaved her pubes like Gabby, they just hadn’t developed yet. Still, looking at the tiny frame he could imagine her as a child.

  “I think it’s time we got to know each other a little better, Gabby. What do you say I give you the best night of your life?” he asked. He brushed hair away from her face and forced her to look at him. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk.”

  “Leave her alone,” Lynne said. “Just leave her alone.”

  “Don’t be jealous, babe, I’ll fuck you when I’m done with her.”

  “Dude, you ain’t gonna fuck them all,” Marty protested.

  Marty walked over to the girls and a huge grin spread across his face. “I think it’s only fair that Stan has to fuck Chandra again. I mean, that’s the only reason that we’re up here anyway.”

  “Fuck you, man,” Stan said. “I’m going to turn Gabby inside out. I’ve already had my fun with Chandra. You should try her out, it’s some good pussy.”

  “I don’t fuck walruses,” Marty said. He saw a look of pain cross Chandra’s face and grinned even wider. “Did that hurt your feelings, Chandra? Does the truth make you want to cry? You’re a fat, ugly cow. I don’t care if that makes you sad or not. If you want people to stop thinking of you that way you should do something about it. Lose fifty pounds and get your face worked on.”

  “Leave her the fuck alone,” Clint snapped. He glared at his friend. “You ain’t got no room to talk about someone being ugly, Marty. You have to beg for sex and half the time the only person that feels bad enough to fuck you is your cousin.”

  Thad sensed the fight coming and stepped in. “You two quiet the fuck down. Decide yourselves a couple of women and fuck them. We need to get this shit done before the end of the night.”

  Marty and Clint were chastised by the words. Like the women they had discovered he was a ruthless killer. Neither of them felt like being put on his list.

  After a moment of silence Thad spoke again. He looked Marty directly in the face without a hint of good nature. “Since you had to go open your mouth you are going to fuck Chandra. I don’t give a shit if you fuck one of the others when you’re done, but you’re going to fuck Chandra first.”

  “Man, that’s fucked up. What if I can’t even get it up?”

  “You’ll perform just fine. Now take her to one of the bedrooms and do your thing.”

  Marty clinched his jaw to hold back any angry outbursts. He roughly picked Chandra up off the floor by a handful of hair. “I’m going to rip you apart,” he growled.

  Thad turned his attention to Clint next. “And you, pissface, you’re going to fuck Tracy. You done made sure no one else is going to want to fuck her tonight. No one wants to stick it in someone that’s been all sliced up. It’s your job to show her the last good time of her life.”

  “But the bitch pissed—”

  “I’m well aware of what happened earlier. I don’t care if you shit on her head you’re going to fuck her.”

  Clint nodded his head and grabbed Tracy under the arms. He picked her up off of the floor and shoved her in the direction of the staircase leading up to the bedrooms.

  Thad cracked his knuckles and looked at Stan. The man had a look of concern coupled with eagerness. It was such a funny expression that Thad had to laugh. “If you’re really going to fuck Gabby you had better get to it.”

  Stan needed no further instruction. He stood and led Gabby away.

  Once he was alone with the remaining girls Thad sat on the sofa and leaned back heavily. “I’m sorry, ladies, but I’m just not in the mood to fuck just yet. I kind of feel like a shithead for shooting Justin. He was a good kid.”

  None of the women said anything. Marcy chanced a glance toward the stairs. Tears were running down her cheeks, making her eye liner run.

  An idea came to Thad then. He lit the joint and took another deep hit off of it. “I think I’ve got a way that you bitches could put me in the mood,” he said. “Marcy, I want you to eat Lynne’s pussy.”

  “Don’t do this, Thad,” Anna begged.

  “Shut the fuck up, Anna. If you keep good and quiet I may make Lynne get your cunt wet before I fuck you.”

  12

  Ivy had no idea how far she had run or if the killer was stalking her. Her chest felt like it was on fire and her bare feet had been torn open all along the soles as she sprinted. She was losing steam quickly now that the adrenaline began wearing off.

  In her panic she had rushed right past the house and the cars. She didn’t remember which direction they had come in, so she made a hasty decision to turn right and run up the driveway. As she continued her flight away from the savage murderer she stumbled a couple of times. Her knees were badly scraped, as were her palms and the bottom of her chin. She knew she would look like a lunatic high off of LSD if someone should happen by, but she hoped she had sobered up enough to give a good citizen some sort of coherent version of what had happened.

  She then considered how she must truly look. She was no longer a hot blonde running through the night stark naked. She would have had a lot easier time finding someone to pick her up if she wasn’t covered in scrapes and bruises. Of course her physical condition only told the truth about who she was and what had happened to her. She had been violently raped and barely escaped with her life.

  She had managed to make it a half mile down the long drive before she ran her foot into a large stone jutting up from the gravel. Pain sprang up her leg as she fell face first into the tiny, unforgiving bits of stone. She slid a foot and a half through the loose stones. She sat up and looked at the dirt and cuts that covered the front of her body. She pulled her foot closer so she could see it in the pale moonlight. A two inch long laceration ran from between her big toe and the next. The gash ran up the top of her foot to the midpoint.

  She kept herself from screaming in agony by sheer willpower. After a few moments she fought the pain long enough to stand again. She took a few steps. Ivy turned around and saw crimson footprints followed her short progress. She gritted her teeth and pressed on. Her progress would be dramatically slowed by the injuries.

  She pressed on. She refused to die in the middle of nowhere. She could see the street as she rounded the last turn of the driveway.

  For a moment she considered how cowardly it was to leave her friends behind. She knew that they woul
d most likely do the same, but it still felt like she was doing something wrong. Ivy looked back over her shoulder and felt her heart leapt up in her throat. Just the idea of heading back to the house was enough to drive her close to a full blown panic attack.

  She rationalized that it was completely insane to even fantasize that she would be able to do anything for her friends. She would be breaking into a house full of God knew how many armed men completely naked and suffering from dozens of injuries. She wasn’t Bruce Willis and this definitely wasn’t one of the Die Hard movies. She was a one-hundred and ten pound woman with arms far too weak to brandish a rifle, automatic or not. The only way that she would be able to save her friends was if she was able to find a means to notify the authorities.

  She limped forward. The pain continued to increase as she moved. Every step she took added another sharp pain. It seemed to take days to get to the street. She turned onto the road and the ground instantly felt much more pleasant beneath her torn feet. She knew it was not any different than the driveway, but the notion of escape seemed to soften the gravel. She began limping away from the house.

  She had barely made it thirty feet when she saw two white dots in the distance. Excitement raced through her. The joy of seeing headlights coming into view made her forget her agony all together. She began moving as quickly as she could toward the oncoming vehicle. Her stride was so struggled that she hobbled as if she was an invalid.

  The vehicle drew closer to her. The white dots intensified and grew in size. She began waving her arms while she continued her stride forward. The sudden change in her body’s actions caused her to spill forward again. Her chin bounced off of the hard earth and split open. Her left nipple felt as if it was torn completely off by the impact. She forced herself back to her feet and saw the spill had split her open from the base of her left breast to the top of the nipple.