A Brutal Slasher Story - Please Add On To This
It's easy to tell when John returns due to the smell of a freshly lit joint. Jesus, that guy is insatiable. You hope quietly that his need to get off flares up with equal frequency through the night.
In the next moment you let out a low, gutteral scream as an undeniably thick, knobby cock slides right up into your hole. The sought-after lubricant was definitely not a part of the copulation.
"John you fucking idi...," You are cut off as a leather-gloved hand moves to take hold of your hair, yanks it upwards, only to slam your face down into the hard wooden desk with force. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, and your mangled nose shrieks with pain.
As you try to get free, a form that is notably too tall to be John hovers over you. The man -- whoever it is, continues to lunge in deep, painful thrusts. As you hear your mystery rapist's breath begin to pant, you realize with some horror that your panic and discomfort are only creating a tighter, more pleasurable vice for his erection to be buried in.
You scream -- whether more from pain or fear it is too difficult to tell. You feel the black leather jacket of your rapist push into your back, the signature earthy scent of the fabric filling your nose as you get the softest of kisses to the nape of your neck.
That kiss turns vicious, though. In the next moment those leather gloves move forward and firmly wrap thick, cutting metal wire around your neck. You try to scream again, but the sharp wire cuts off your air, silencing you. You feel the rapist tighten the wire more, tearing into the soft skin just above your adam's apple, and displacing it in a way that gives you even a more intense sensation of choking. Your hands move to your throat, trying in vain to create some slack and provide much-needed air.
Even as you struggle and fight, the cock buried in your hindquarters continues the savage claiming. As you move to get free of your pinned position on the desk, your mystery predator only adjusts to your new position, his hips moving lower, as he thrusts upwards into your battered depths. Through the haze of low oxygen you realize for a moment you must be bleeding from both ends now -- your neck from the metal slicing into it, and your ass from the savage carelessness of the fuck.
You don't have too much longer to dwell on such ironies, though. You hear the moans of the man behind you, his breath hot. You feel the tell-tale sign of his shaft beginning to lengthen and twitch inside you, knowing it is the promise of an impending orgasm. The simultaneous tightening grip of metal promises your own impending death.
As the man cums and you feel your bare ass being filled up with warm spurts of your unknown attacker's seed, you feel the choke of wire grow tighter still. More streams of blood birth from your neck, though you soon no longer feel it.
You no longer feel anything at all as the edges of your sight get dimmer and dimmer, your ass finally relaxing for the rapist as your body gives way. Once more there is the softest kiss to your nape, which is an appropriate farewell, as in the next moment you are forever lost to oblivion.
In his relaxed sexual afterglow, the leather clad figure returns you to your original lewd position at the desk -- bent over, pants around your ankles, ass out, and your head down, as if anxiously waiting for the next desirous man to have his way with your hole.
He doesn't bother to wipe away the indecent pink-colored trail that evidences his bloody rape and semen release within you, which now runs from your buttocks and all the way down the inside of your right leg.
Your body soon stiffens, permanently frozen in that about-to-get-fucked position. The only hope for a final dignity you have rests on the march of time and air to break down your flesh before some unsuspecting person stumbles across you, and sees for themselves just how important it was for you to get stuffed full of cock at the infamous campsite.
In the next moment you let out a low, gutteral scream as an undeniably thick, knobby cock slides right up into your hole. The sought-after lubricant was definitely not a part of the copulation.
"John you fucking idi...," You are cut off as a leather-gloved hand moves to take hold of your hair, yanks it upwards, only to slam your face down into the hard wooden desk with force. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth, and your mangled nose shrieks with pain.
As you try to get free, a form that is notably too tall to be John hovers over you. The man -- whoever it is, continues to lunge in deep, painful thrusts. As you hear your mystery rapist's breath begin to pant, you realize with some horror that your panic and discomfort are only creating a tighter, more pleasurable vice for his erection to be buried in.
You scream -- whether more from pain or fear it is too difficult to tell. You feel the black leather jacket of your rapist push into your back, the signature earthy scent of the fabric filling your nose as you get the softest of kisses to the nape of your neck.
That kiss turns vicious, though. In the next moment those leather gloves move forward and firmly wrap thick, cutting metal wire around your neck. You try to scream again, but the sharp wire cuts off your air, silencing you. You feel the rapist tighten the wire more, tearing into the soft skin just above your adam's apple, and displacing it in a way that gives you even a more intense sensation of choking. Your hands move to your throat, trying in vain to create some slack and provide much-needed air.
Even as you struggle and fight, the cock buried in your hindquarters continues the savage claiming. As you move to get free of your pinned position on the desk, your mystery predator only adjusts to your new position, his hips moving lower, as he thrusts upwards into your battered depths. Through the haze of low oxygen you realize for a moment you must be bleeding from both ends now -- your neck from the metal slicing into it, and your ass from the savage carelessness of the fuck.
You don't have too much longer to dwell on such ironies, though. You hear the moans of the man behind you, his breath hot. You feel the tell-tale sign of his shaft beginning to lengthen and twitch inside you, knowing it is the promise of an impending orgasm. The simultaneous tightening grip of metal promises your own impending death.
As the man cums and you feel your bare ass being filled up with warm spurts of your unknown attacker's seed, you feel the choke of wire grow tighter still. More streams of blood birth from your neck, though you soon no longer feel it.
You no longer feel anything at all as the edges of your sight get dimmer and dimmer, your ass finally relaxing for the rapist as your body gives way. Once more there is the softest kiss to your nape, which is an appropriate farewell, as in the next moment you are forever lost to oblivion.
In his relaxed sexual afterglow, the leather clad figure returns you to your original lewd position at the desk -- bent over, pants around your ankles, ass out, and your head down, as if anxiously waiting for the next desirous man to have his way with your hole.
He doesn't bother to wipe away the indecent pink-colored trail that evidences his bloody rape and semen release within you, which now runs from your buttocks and all the way down the inside of your right leg.
Your body soon stiffens, permanently frozen in that about-to-get-fucked position. The only hope for a final dignity you have rests on the march of time and air to break down your flesh before some unsuspecting person stumbles across you, and sees for themselves just how important it was for you to get stuffed full of cock at the infamous campsite.
