Snuff Club: An Extreme Horror Novel

by Sam West

  Curly stood behind Crystal and fumbled with the crotch of his black baggy jeans. Only then did Stevie realise that he was no longer hard. Any sexual arousal he had felt had disappeared along with Dairy’s orgasm. He wasn’t a fucking faggot, it was just plain weird watching other men fuck her.

  “Mate, her cunt is full of your jizz. That’s just gross.”

  “Man up, bro, it’s just a bit of spunk,” Mark said, laughing.

  He was sitting at the end of the sofa now, arms folded, facing Stevie and Dairy.

  This is getting really fucking weird.

  “Then I’ll guess I’ll take the backdoor.”

  That seemed to rouse Crystal from her stupor.

  “Oh, she won’t like that,” Mark chuckled, still not turning round. “She was always very protective over her arsehole.”

  “Shame,” Curly grunted.

  Crystal thrashed and bucked, but Curly pushed down on her neck, pinning her in place. Stevie had to look away. All was silent in the room, save for Curly’s grunting, Crystal’s muffled screams and the porn on the TV, mostly drowning them out.

  Fleetingly, Stevie wondered what that anal sex must feel like for Curly. He guessed it must be really fucking tight and against his will, he felt his cock stirring again.

  Curly took less time than Dairy and he grunted as he finished up.

  Mark got up off the sofa and picked up the breadknife from the floor. Stevie went cold, then hot. He couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs but he didn’t dare rip off the tights. Next to him, Dairy chuckled.

  “I need some help, here,” Mark said.

  Curly, who had stuffed his cock back in his jeans, stepped sideways to allow Mark access behind the sofa.

  “Did you enjoy that, bitch?” he said slowly and loudly as he fisted her ruined topknot and dragged her head upwards. She looked completely out of it with the way her eyes rolled in her head like that. “Do you want Stevie to fuck you?” He put on a falsetto voice, vigorously nodding her head for her: “Ooh, yes please, Marky, that would be lovely.”

  He let go of her hair and her head flopped pathetically forwards. “Because if you don’t, Stevie, I’m gonna slit your throat open, do you understand me? Get the fuck over her. Now.”

  “Go on, those holes ain’t gonna fuck themselves,” Dairy said, shoving him hard in the back.

  Stevie lurched into the middle of the room, almost tripping over his own feet. He looked imploringly over to his brother whose expression was unreadable behind the gauzy material. Stevie knew his brother. He knew he had to do it otherwise his life would be hell.

  So? That’s no excuse to fucking rape her…

  Yet it was almost of their own accord that his feet crossed the room to join his brother.

  “Good lad,” Mark said, slapping him on the back.

  None too gently, he shoved him behind Crystal. Stevie’s groin bumped into her and he only just managed to stop himself from apologising as he reached out to steady himself on her hips.

  The full magnitude of what he was doing hit him. Crystal’s arse was there before him, right beneath his sweaty palms. It was soft and hot to the touch, and his gaze was helplessly drawn to her wet crack that oozed the other men’s come.

  To his surprise, he realised that he was as hard as a rock.

  Just do it. What difference is one more cock going to make to her?

  He knew perfectly well that that was a shitty thing to think, but his brain was fogged by lust.

  This was how he felt in the seconds before he came whilst looking at smut on the net. He was at that point of no return, nothing could stop him from finishing up.

  In a daze, he unzipped his jeans and his average-sized penis sprang out. He was no longer disturbed by the semen leaking down her thighs.

  Lubricant, a gleeful little voice whispered in his mind.

  He guided the head of his cock to the entrance of her vagina and holding himself steady by her hips, he plunged inside.

  Fucking her felt like coming home; all his previous misgivings had vanished as surely as if they’d never been. This was who he was, who he was meant to be. All his life had been leading up to this one moment. A sense of pride washed over him, that his brother was here with him, watching him become a man.

  He didn’t last long; two or three hard pumps and it was all over. Mark – who still held down Crystal by the back of her neck – smiled at him.

  “I knew you’d come good. It’s in the genes, Steven.”

  As his hard-on withered and slipped wetly out of Crystal’s snatch, he realised that for the first time in his life, his brother had called him Steven.

  I’m not ‘Stevie’ anymore. I’ve grown up. I’ve changed. I’m Steven now.

  He looked dispassionately down at Crystal, every last shred of pity gone.

  “What happens next?”

  “Move aside, little brother. And pass a pair of those tights. You got this Ratski?”

  “I sure have.”

  “Hold her head steady for me, Steven.”

  Steven obliged, fisting her straggly bun with no concern whatsoever that he might be hurting her. In fact, his grip involuntarily tightened at the thought of it.

  “The knives were just for show, to scare the little bitch,” Mark said conversationally. “And to cut her clothes off too, of course. Far too much mess with fucking knives.”

  He proceeded to wrap the length of the tights around her neck a total of three times. As he did so, he freed his cock and fucked her with all the finesse of a horny dog.

  The hosiery tightened and her face bloomed red. Her head tilted backwards, her cheeks puffed, and Steven let go of her hair. In fact, it was like her entire face expanded, for a fleeting second reminding Steven of that kid from the 70’s film adaption of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory who turned into a swollen blueberry.

  “So. Fucking. Tight,” Mark panted, barely audible over the blaring porn in the background.

  With a final grunt, he yanked hard on the tights. Crystal’s eyes bulged in her crimson face, her bunged-up nostrils flaring above the gag of electrical-tape.

  Then just like that, it was over. Her head lolled forwards, slack on her neck. When Mark pulled out of her and his hands went slack on the tights, her body slumped to the ground between their feet. Mark shoved his wet cock back into his jeans.

  “Oh, and by the way, Steven. Happy fucking birthday.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sometime during dinner, that awful sounding porn had stopped. And thank God for that, thought Julie. If it even was porn. It could well have been a horror movie from the way the woman was screaming. Blood-curdling music with a heavy beat and discordant acoustics had accompanied the woman’s cries of agony. Industrial metal, she believed it was called. Not that she ever listened to such stuff, she was more of an Indie Pop kind of girl – one of life’s genuine throwbacks to the late nineties.

  Grant was washing up in the kitchen and she was relaxing in front of the TV with a glass of wine. Or trying to, anyway. A bad feeling that she couldn’t quite place squirmed in her guts and try as she might, she couldn’t shift it.

  Doing her best to ignore the strange feeling, she cranked up the TV. The X Factor was on, a show she hated, but the normalcy of it went some way to soothing her jangled nerves.

  Plus it drowned out next door.

  Grant appeared in the living-room, making her jump.

  “Howsabout a foot-rub?” he asked, sitting next to her on the sofa.

  “You really are the perfect man, aren’t you?”

  “I try my best,” he said with a wolfish grin.

  She was painfully aware of the fact that they were both trying to ignore the porn that was playing so loudly next door. She was as embarrassed as she was irritated and upset. With a jolt of surprise, she realised she was dangerously close to tears.

  Oh God, she thought, this simply won’t do, what the hell is wrong with me?

  In that moment she was unable to bare the thought of Gran
t touching her, and she lurched to her feet.

  “Bathroom,” she mumbled, avoiding his wide eyes.

  Upstairs in the bathroom, she gripped the rim of the sink until her knuckles turned white. She found she was shaking as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her blue eyes wide, sparkling and crazed.

  At least up here she couldn’t hear the porn film, and for that she was grateful. Inhaling deeply and slowly, she forced herself to calm down.

  Why am I getting so upset?

  Except she knew perfectly well why she was getting upset. Thirteen years ago, when she had been just twenty years old, she had been raped by an acquaintance at college. Somehow, despite loving Grant, she hadn’t quite gotten around to telling him. She knew he would be understanding and supportive, but she didn’t want his perception of her to be tarnished. On a rational level she knew that was silly, but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

  Listening to the porn film coming from next door had stirred up all those old feelings of terror and humiliation. That casual objectification of women cut her to the core. When men could watch films like that together, in a god-damn group, she knew on an instinctive level that those men were potential rapists. A part of her knew she was being overly harsh, but it was a notion that she couldn’t shake.

  Grant didn’t get it. He professed to not get turned on by porn, but deep down, she didn’t believe him. And she could live with that, she honestly could. What she couldn’t live with was men that saw women as lumps of meat, as objects to be used and abused. She couldn’t cope with the type of men that thought pornography was socially acceptable. She couldn’t cope with men that laughed at female subjugation and humiliation.

  More than anything, she couldn’t cope with having those type of men living next door.

  She splashed cold water on her heated face, forcing herself to breathe and keep calm.

  Don’t let it get to you. You can’t go there, don’t drag all that shit up again.

  She wasn’t the girl she had once been. Never again would she let the opposite sex hurt her like that. She was a changed woman. Yes, she loved Grant, and mostly she was fine with sex. But there was a place inside of her that would never heal, that that bastard had taken from her. That piece of her heart that used to love unconditionally and freely was gone. Killed stone dead.

  If there was one thing that Julie was never going to be again, it was a victim. Once she felt confident she had got herself under control, she went back downstairs to her fiancé.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Crystal lay dead on the sofa.

  Steven blinked. That hadn’t just happened. It was impossible. His brother was a lot of things; thug, petty thief, drug dealer. But murderer? No. Impossible.

  But it wasn’t Crystal’s murder that shocked him the most. It was the fact that he was excited. It was more than just nervous energy that coursed through his system, for the first time in his life, he felt really, truly alive.

  Which is more than can be said for Crystal…

  He smirked.

  “You get all, that, Ratski?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  His little eyes were glazed, and he looked pale. Steven sensed the shift in the room, it wasn’t something he fully understood, but things were different now. He was no longer an outsider in his own home. He had never felt so close to his brother and his brother’s friends. At last, he was part of the gang.

  Ratski was the one on the outside now. Steven watched as Mark strode over to him and snatched the phone out of his slack fingers.

  “What’s the code for your phone?”

  “Huh?”

  “The code. For your phone.”

  “Six, two, eight, one,” he whispered.

  “Thanks. I’ll film this one. Okay guys, he’s all yours. Make sure he don’t scream.”

  Curly and Dairy didn’t have to be asked twice. They jumped him and Dairy landed a neat, right-hook on his jaw.

  Ratski’s head snapped sideways, his mouth open as if to draw breath to scream.

  He didn’t get the chance. After that, the blows rained down, hard and fast. Curly dragged him off the armchair by his ankles, and Ratski thumped on the floor on his back. Dairy kicked him in the face and Curly kicked him in the guts.

  It didn’t end there, and Steven watched on, fascinated. For a moment, he didn’t think that they would actually kill Ratski. But they didn’t stop. On and on, they kicked him. They may have been wearing trainers, but the power behind their kicks was evident in their red, scrunched up faces. Dairy repeatedly kicked him in the head until his face was an unrecognisable mask of blood and ruptured skin. Already, his eyes were swollen and closed over.

  His torso writhed and jerked on the floor as Curly kicked him in his gut, groin and chest.

  Suddenly, both men stopped, hunched over their knees and breathing hard with the exertion. Steven stared hard at Ratski. Just when he thought they had killed him, he made this pathetic, gurgling sound and blood pooled in his open mouth.

  “End it,” Mark said softly.

  Dairy stamped on his head, and Steven cringed when Ratski’s skull cracked open. It was an atrocious noise, somehow sounding neither hollow nor solid, but very wet.

  His body jerked comically as his heart beat its last.

  He fell still. From first punch to death had taken under two minute. All three men stood in silence for a moment, the porn still playing in the background. Mark was the first to remove his stocking-mask, scrunching it up into a ball and throwing it to the ground, and the other three followed suit.

  “Well, that’s that, then. Are you guys gonna clean up? Me and Steven need a little chat upstairs. And when we’ve had our chat, we’re gonna take a shower. And when we’ve taken our showers, we’re gonna come back down, then you guys can take a shower. Help yourself to beer, okay?”

  As Mark was speaking, Curly and Dairy were already in the kitchen. The sound of running water and cupboards slamming drifted their way.

  “Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Mark said, exiting the living-room.

  Steven was surprised how sturdy his legs felt beneath him as he followed his brother up to the room he used to share with Crystal. As corny as it sounded in his head, he felt reborn. He had discovered a new leash of life.

  No. Not a new leash of life. A whole new life…

  Mark sat down on the bed and patted the empty space beside him.

  “You did good tonight, Steven. I’m dead proud of you. How do you feel?”

  Steven felt a rush of pride – not only was his brother calling him ‘Steven’ now, he was still reeling from the fact he had been excused from cleaning up. He wasn’t just part of the gang, he was also escalating rapidly upwards through the ranks. For a moment, he pondered his brother’s question.

  “I feel good,” he said eventually, still searching for the words that could possible express how different he felt. “Tonight was good.”

  Mark beamed at him. “I was never sure which way you were gonna swing. I’ve always known I was like this, but you? You’re such an egghead, such a swot, I didn’t know you had it in you. Like I say, I’m dead proud.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Mark said, still smiling.

  “Have you done this type of thing before? Like, actually killed someone?”

  Mark was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve hurt people. But I ain’t ever gone this far, until now. Dad did, though.”

  Steven looked at him quizzically. This was a first. They never talked about Dad. Their father, Bradley Jones, died of alcoholism when Steven was ten and Mark was nineteen. For the remaining years, Mark had effectively been the only father-figure Steven had known.

  “What do you mean?” Steven asked.

  His memories of Dad were sketchy at best. He remembered his fists. He remembered his screaming. He remembered him standing up, falling down drunk. He remembered him going into hospital one day and never com
ing out again.

  And he had never known his mother because she had died giving birth to him. Of everything, that was the one thing that made him the saddest.

  “Dad liked to hurt women. He used to smack Mum around, nothing major. He saved that for the whores he used to visit behind her back. But after she died, he lost it. I think he really loved her, in his own special way. The alcohol took hold, and he weren’t the same. He taught me a lot, Dad did. Women are shit, Steven. Mum weren’t shit, but the rest of ‘em are.”

  Steven closed his eyes, letting his brother’s words sink in. He thought about every woman that had turned him down, that had sniggered and gossiped about what a loser he was behind his back. He thought of the way Crystal had felt when he had fucked her, how her terror had been such a turn-on.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You know it, bro. Women equal shit. They’re all fucking cunts and sluts, every last one of ‘em. They’ve all got it coming, especially fucking Crystal. You know that Curly’s got a new job in the sex shop in Leigh, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he got connections there. Me, Curly and Dairy was talking about it the other night. People pay a shit load of money for the darker stuff.”

  “Darker stuff?”

  “Don’t be thick, Steven. Under-the-counter stuff. The type of stuff that you can only get on the darknet.”

  “What, you mean like pedo shit?”

  “Yeah, that too. But that’s not the type of film we made tonight, is it?”

  The penny dropped fully for Steven. “Curly’s gonna sell that film of Crystal at the sex shop?”

  Mark whacked him on the back; hard enough to hurt. “There ya go, now yer getting’ with the programme. I wanted rid of Crystal, figured I’d make a few quid out of her in the process.”

  “What about Ratski? I thought he was your friend?”