User:Tfo/Snuffer2

From Encyclopedia Dramatica

Subject:

       SNUFF: The Snuffer, 2/2 (m/t, tort, snuff)
  Date:
       Tue, 13 Oct 1998 04:15:36 PDT
  From:
       "Slavonic K" <slavo...@hotmail.com>
    To:
       moderated.stor...@bigfoot.com

WARNING! This story contains detailed descriptions of very cruel tortures and murder of a teenage victim. I insistently recommend you reading it ONLY if you are really interested in the things like that. I am not going to accept any complaints or disapproval from those who might be squicked with it but who read it nevertheless.

THE SNUFFER, 2/2

I put my palm on the stretching lever and turned it once more. There was something that was making me sick when I saw how his rib-cage stuck upwards even more and his limbs, unbearably drawn out, started vibrating, as if on the verge of tearing. He made a harsh howl, hardly imaginable for the dainty creature like he was.

Now I was going to start the water torture.

I knew they were getting right crazy when watching it; they never had enough of it… It was a big part of my services I was paid so generously for. So, I pushed another button and my appliances appeared on the scene.

I doubted that Mary Beth followed me with his eyes lucidly by now. His head was either sagging or leaned back and then I could see some spit leaking out of his mouth. His lovely-colored irises were so black and kept being like this - it was almost frightening. When I approached him with the hoses he made a short inhale. He already knew he had to expect pain and nothing except pain from me, whatever I had in my hands.

I pushed another lever and the rack flopped down - horizontally. I looked at the trickles of blood changing their directions on Mary Beth's chest and between his legs. I guess there practically was no pain when I inserted the edge of the hose into his hole. Then I released the clamp and water flooded to his insides.

It was just water - and I had already done it to him today. Perhaps he could think now there was not going to be something bad. Or wondered why I was doing it again. If he was able to wonder by then. Only it was not the same. The bag that was positioned on the fixture was thrice bigger than any I would make anyone take for other reasons. Liters of lukewarm water filling Mary Beth's guts implacably.

When I read the first severe cramps over his face I took another thin hose in my hands. A catheter. There was no much flesh on his cock to hold it because of the pins but I managed it, pushing the flexible tube inside his piss-slit. His eyes became great when he realized what I was doing. He could be well-accustomed to the enemas - but I don't think he ever had something like that done to him.

When I knew I reached his bladder I attached another bag of water to the outside edge of the tube and let it pour in. Into him, backwards, through his urethra to his bladder.

Well, I knew it wouldn't mean that much after what I was going to do next - maybe, just add to his agony but not multiply it. Only that was the point - to do everything meticulously, every step by step.

Even though he was stretched almost impossibly I still noticed a great shudder going through him when he realized the unspeakable sensations. He was being filled from two ends. And filled quickly. I realized it when I noticed that his belly - looking like a cavern until then - started flattening somehow. The place above his pubis where his bladder was - when I put my palm there I could feel feeble but perceptible bloating. I knew how his guts were accepting the water, too - more and more of it, bringing him new cramps.

The cramps will be nothing when we come to the end of this.

"Mary Beth," I came up to his face and bent to him. "Listen to me."

The eyes of a trapped animal looked at me.

"Please…" his throat had to be raw, his voice didn't sound as before at all. I cut him short.

"I'll be giving you to drink now. And you'd better swallow it - or you are going to choke. Do you understand me?"

I waited. He nodded; almost didn't moved - but I recognized his nod. He didn't have any alternative, you see.

I put the funnel to his mouth and poured a jug of water into it. Then I covered his nose.

He jerked. At first I was amazed how he could stir so much being so stretched - and then I saw that the skin on his wrists under the shackles tore - and the flows of blood ran down from there.

But still it was too little for him to get any freedom of movement. I didn't have any problems holding him - and when what I told him became reality he started gulping the water fast and hard, as fast as he could.

I let him a tad of time to resurrect his breath before pouring another jug. After the third one I went to see what was going on at his bottom part. Yes, the bag of water that was going to his bladder was empty by now - and the bloating in the bottom part of Mary Beth's belly was very visible. His bladder held more liquid than ever at the moment - I knew it hurt - seemed it was going to burst out. But I knew it would hurt much more in a very little while.

I clamped the catheter so that there was no chance for the little bitch to piss it out and took the empty bag away.

The quantity of water from the enema in his bowels started being significant, too. It looked like his abdomen was sort of swelling from inside, bursting open. So weird - because just some minutes before it was so very flat.

He was making unbearable "Ah! Ah!" sounds - too exhausted to cry out louder. I returned to his face. Another jug of water. I knew it was as much as he could possibly get without causing much suffering - and I knew he felt it. He tried not to swallow when I poured the next jug into the funnel. But it was his body ripped between the sources of pain that chose the longer agony of drinking to the shorter pain of drowning.

Two more jugs and I found that by this time the enema bag was empty, too. He had to feel he was going to explode with it, I thought, every bit of his intestines filled with water on the verge of rupturing. I looked at his swollen belly - incredible sight - but it was what the water in him was doing. I fixed the clamp to shut his anus from release and dropped the other bag down.

I heard Mary Beth's moaning, steady and tearing, as low as it could be, with his vocal chords worn out - but I couldn't stop looking at his belly for a while. It was glistening with sweat film and the skin on it was so taut that it seemed I could tear it just with my finger. The flower of his pretty belly button started coming out.

And I could see the place where his overfilled stomach was. I couldn't say how much of the liquid went out of it to his bladder - but I knew that it was bringing the same amount of pain to him as his other bursting inner organs. I brought another jug to his mouth. His eyes were looking at me with the unforgettable expression of inhuman torment.

I made him swallow this one - and one more - and then I said:

"The last one - it will be over."

But I had something else for the last one. I didn't know if Mary Beth's vision was clear enough to see what it was. I put it to the funnel before pouring the water. A string of thin steel wire with twelve metal balls on it, 1,5" in diameter each. I pushed it to his mouth - and when he started gulping the water he was swallowing the string with the balls with it. His throat bulged agonizingly when the balls went through it. I fixed the outside end of the string to the bit that I put to Mary Beth's mouth when it was over.

The sight the unfortunate sissy slut was presenting now was the most repulsive and the oddest possible. How many times I had seen it before - it still was shocking me. And it still was working better, maybe, than anything else for my customers.

The little prostitute's body was distorted beyond imagination. Narrow and outstretched, it had a monstrous bulging cupola on the place of the belly - as if he was pregnant on a long term, as if there was an alien foetus developing inside him. His abdomen was more prominent than his rib-cage now - a disgusting swell under the tightest skin. His navel seemed being turned inside out - its stem emerging, its cavity extended incredibly.

Mary Beth's face looked frightening - wax pale, with its features sharp and haggard and the eyes that seem to splash suffering out. He didn't make a sound through his gag - he couldn't. There were two trickles of bloody fluid coming out of his nose - the only orifices the water was leaving his body through.

I walked away from the scene letting my clients come closer to the rack. Back in the room where I saw Mary Beth for the first time I lit my cigarette. I knew what was going on the scene - as they were approaching the ugly form of the suffering hooker, touching his pulled out limbs, probing the tears on his skin, tasting his blood. I could imagine without any effort how their palms slid over his huge belly, groped carefully his pierced genitals, pressed the nubs of his nipples. They were patting his hair and his face, passed their fingers over his gag-spread lips.

I chain-smoked looking at my watch from time to time. Every minute had to make Mary Beth's agony more bitter. In half an hour I came back.

They knew exactly how long term there was for them - when I entered the scene they were in their arm-chairs again. I looked at the little martyr. They enjoyed him - I could see the spurts of their wad in his hair, on his chest and in his belly button that was not hollow any more.

I came very close to Mary Beth's face and whispered:

"I'll help you now."

I didn't know if my words penetrated the misery he was in. I turned the rack into vertical position and took off the clamp of the catheter. When I dragged it out for a moment there was nothing - his insides seemed to be destroyed. And then a stream of piss hit out of it. Red piss.

I heard some orgasmic sighs from the audience. The flow, so strong that Mary Beth's cock seemed erect with it, didn't become thinner. It changed color, however, to pink at first and then almost to normal. I removed the clamp that prevented him from voiding his bowels next. The sight was appalling. The flush of water spouting out of him was incredible. There were blood clots in it, too.

Did he have some of his insides ruined? He well might have had. His kidneys could be injured beyond recovering - and if he were going to stay alive he would need some complicated surgery on his intestines. But he was not going to stay alive.

With the water still gushing out of his bottom orifices I reached my hand to his mouth and took out the gag. I pulled it - and it pulled the string with balls out of his stomach and throat. Every part of Mary Beth's body convulsed with monstrous pain it was bringing him. The balls, every one of them, were emerging his throat, coated with bloody slime. He puked agonizingly after that - erupting the water that was forced into him so cruelly. It looked scary - his body quaking on the rack - not too visibly because it couldn't be with the stretching it was under - and the streams of bloody water leaking out of it endlessly.

His nasty belly was falling down slowly.

It took three quarter of hours for the leaking from his bowels to stop and for his vomiting to become just dry heaves. His body hanged limp, doll-like - and there still was a trickle of piss seeping from his penis. With his head lolled awry I couldn't see his face under the wave of his hair.

I waited some minutes before the new lot of torment started.

• * *

Slowly I pulled out the pins from Mary Beth's nipples. His only reaction was a slight movement of his sagged head. The tiny jets of blood from the punctures seemed unnatural, as if painted, on his chest. I dropped the pins on the floor absent-mindedly. When I started retrieving the pins from his cock and balls he moaned again - so low that this sound was unimaginable. The pins went out unwillingly from the resilient flesh of his testicles. He didn't stop pissing all the way.

When I took out the last of the pins I kept some of the longest ones in my hand. I didn't know if there was some relief for Mary Beth and what he thought about - if about anything - but he couldn't possibly expect what I did next. I picked the same pins and stuck them violently in his under-arms, right till their heads. It demanded strength - they were quite blunt after the first piercing. The cross-dresser's head tossed back and I saw his blackened mouth opening in a silent scream. He was practically past making sounds by now.

I pushed some more of the pins in his groin. Then I stooped to my bag and took out the next thing.

It was a dildo. Well, being a prostitute he had to be used to take something like that. But I was sure he had never even seen anything like this. It was 4,5"-thick, a foot and a half long object - but worse than that, it had a sand-paper-like surface. I didn't raise it to show it to Mary Beth - he wouldn't probably understand anyway.

But he understood when I put it against his anus and tried to force it in. There was such a wild jerk of his head - the only kind of movement he could do that witnessed the most unspeakable pain he had to feel.

He was a whore - but even he was not stretched enough to accommodate it. I pushed. I think he strove to escape it - even though there was no any way his body could change its position. Some short yelps were coming out of him. I hit the dildo up and inside - and then it entered. Because I tore a wound in him to let it in, I knew.

When I looked at my arms I could see my own bulging muscles while I was pushing the monstrous thing into his ass. It didn't matter if he didn't have space there to take it. I was mutilating him but I was thrusting it in.

It was inside for about a half of its length when Mary Beth passed out. I stopped. There was no speech if I preferred to do it with him unconscious - a silly question at all! - the thing was I was paid for keeping him responsive. I found a syringe in my bag, filled it and stuck it into his forearm. It was a powerful stuff; something like that we used in Afghanistan, then, years ago. It didn't take a couple of minutes before he stirred agonizingly and made a tearing animal-like howl.

I seized the dildo and pushed it again. And then, when at last it was in for as much as it was necessary, I pulled it out. The effect it made on Mary Beth, who seemed by then absolutely exhausted with the pain, was immediate and stunning. The piss from his seeping cock went in a thicker stream - and with a wet retching sound he splashed some bloody fluid over his lips and chin. His eyes were enormously huge - and if he was able to think by then he had to think I was tearing his colon out.

It was a sort of this, actually. When I looked at the dildo, pulled out from his rectum for almost its entire length, it was soaked in blood and had some tissue rags on its rough surface. I pushed it in. Out. In. I was fucking his torn rectum to the shreds.

I left the horrible thing deep inside him when finishing.

The second instrument I took was a sound - and it was not again the thing you use for your sexual games. It was as thick as my little finger and a foot long and with the same surface as the dildo I used before had.

I took Mary Beth's small blooded cock in my hands. It was cold and wet and still leaking piss. I didn't pay attention to it. His urination will stop when I force the sound inside his urethra. And I was going to do it, no matter how it would hurt him, how it would destroy him.

You are going to be destroyed completely tonight little thing.

It was a terrible sight - and the sight I couldn't miss, unlike when I was pushing the dildo into his ass - when I was submerging the sound into his ripping piss-slit. It seemed I heard distinctly how I was tearing something inside his penis - and I was tearing, of course, I couldn't doubt.

When I pulled the sound out it felt like I was wringing his cock off. He was shrieking, even though nobody could already hear him. His vocal chords were dead. But he was not - yet.

For several minutes I imitated fucking motions with the sound through his urethra. Blood was making my hands slippery and inconvenient to hold his organ. I left the sound buried in his bladder at last.

The next object I took was looking like a dildo, too - only much smaller - about 1" in diameter and 5" long. Even after everything what was done Mary Beth revealed some reaction when I stuck it into his belly button.

If there was any possibility for his to draw in his abdomen it wouldn't be too much pain, you know. The thing was there was none. He was stretched so madly that he seemed paper-flat in his stomach area. And his navel was kind of strained by then after the water torture and everything. I pressed the little dildo to it. I didn't penetrate it - just pushed it much deeper than it could go. It almost seemed I made it touch his spine.

The agony of these fucking-like motions was indescribable. By now there were blood snots leaking constantly out of Mary Beth's nose. His face didn't have anything in common with the face I saw in the next room just several hours ago. His eyes were black holes - he seemed dead, long dead - a corpse - but at the same time this corpse was alive and continued to suffer.

When it was enough with the navel-fucking I fixed the dildo on the solid belt and, putting it against his horribly looking belly knot, tied the belt around his waist firmly.

Saliva and blood was dripping out of his mouth when it gaped open after I had done it. It seemed Mary Beth looked astonished with what was done to him. But I knew he was not able to have feelings like this any more. It was just crazing pain that caused this reaction. The belt, tied extremely tightly, was making his waist so very tiny. And I tied it so that there was no any prominence on the place where the navel dildo was fixed. It was pushed into his navel to the end.

One more thing I did was to turn the stretching lever again. I saw Mary Beth's skin on his thighs tearing. And I knew I tore some of his muscles and ligaments, too.

It was time to let my customers explore the victim's body closely again. I left the scene once more, went to the bathroom and washed my hands. I was starting feeling light-headed with the sleepless night and a lot of cigarettes. But I knew it would pass as soon as I got home and have a little nap.

There was a black plastic pocket at the wall - well, it was there from the very beginning but I preferred not to look at it until my work was over (and it was almost over, you see). I didn't have to check it to know what was there. My fee. Fifty thousand bucks. The reason why I was doing it.

For my own country I was doing it almost free of charge. But it was a long time ago - and very far away from here. My own country that would give me a zinc coffin if I failed - but gave me much more than that. It taught me to kill. And now in this country my knowledge was claimed by a bunch of exorbitantly rich guys whose special pleasure was to watch death - as long and as agonizing as could be provided.

I didn't care. What I cared about were my children who would go to any college they would feel like when the time came - and would have cars and friends and opportunities to travel. For them this work on Saturday nights several times a year was not too much, really.

Then I returned to the scene to finish it.

I don't think Mary Beth felt when they were touching him, jerking off on him, twisting his nipples and squeezing his balls. I could see the traces - but this kind of pain must have been already imperceptible for him. His eyes were rolled back and I made another injection to his vein. His throat moved - and that's how I understood he was back.

For a moment I felt like saying something to him - something like: "Farewell Mary Beth". But I knew it was useless to speak to him. What existed for him now was just sheer pain. It didn't matter if I spoke to him, if I was killing him roughly or with gentleness.

I brought him some relief again - took out the dildo and the sound - blooded, frantic-looking things - and I took off the belt. With some sickening feeling I noticed that the point of the dildo went into his navel for about two inches - and when I pulled it out the stem came out with it.

But it didn't matter. He will live long enough for me to do other things.

I turned the rack for a tad, putting it to the position between vertical and horizontal, to provide the better view of everything I was going to do. Mary Beth's mauled tits almost didn't have normal tissue on them to touch. I still put my fingers on his left one and rolled it. It didn't grow erect, no more than you would be able to make a dead man's nipple erect. I still could see the slight contour of his tit-bud in this mess of injured flesh. I stopped trying. I just took the pincers, locked them around the soft knot of flesh and yanked it out.

The stimulator I had given him was working. His head jerked in a convulsion of pain. But more shocking and much more visible than that there was a flow of blood from the wound on his chest where I had torn his tit out.

I put the bit of flesh on the tray carefully. They were going to use it as a souvenir. Then I put the pincers on his other nipple and made the same with it.

It was a weird thing - Mary Beth was silent now, even though still feeling pain - but the audience was not. I heard a plash of applauds when I removed his nipples - a short one but nevertheless. And even louder than that there were their sighs and moans of pleasure.

"Jesus… Ooh, Jesus…" someone was repeating all the time.

I took another kind of pincers, bigger than the first ones. There was no any reply from Mary Beth when I clasped them around his genitals. They were big enough to be locked on his cock and balls at once. But he did reply when I pulled them up with all my force.

It was a work, you know. I was slick with sweat and my arms were already aching. The harsh hissing sounds that were escaping Mary Beth's throat were his screams he couldn't produce any more. The jets of blood were spattering from under the pincers and the sound of tearing flesh was maddening. I saw how his pubic skin was bursting and sliding off - and I still had to pull and wring his organs to separate them.

I was breathless when I had them detached at last.

The dying whore's head was shaking finely, as if in tremor. He was not in his mind any more, I thought. I put his private parts on the tray to his nipples. There were one more pincers ready.

I fixed them around his protruding navel and twisted, pulling the stem of it and the skin around it out. I was tired; I could hardly make these efforts. I yanked and wrenched - and at last it was done, and I put what I had on the tray - and there was this unimaginable hole on his belly instead of his belly button - that was gushing out with streams of hot crimson blood. I could see his bowels through this hole - his pearly purple intestines there.

Now it would be only minutes before he would die himself. But it was not what my customers paid for. When they paid they wanted everything they could get for their money - and I was going to deal the final blow - the blow of death - for the poor little hustler. And I had to be careful - it was not going to be a coup de grace.

I raised my gaze for a moment - to meet the flickering red eye of the video camera looking at me from above. One more movie in their collection was reaching its denouement. This movie won't be distributed around the world through Internet. There will be only six copies of it.

I turned the rack for the last time, putting it vertically. The flows of blood washed Mary Beth's chest and belly, streamed on his legs unceasingly. His head was hanging listlessly. It seemed there was nothing that could extract any reaction from him.

I put my hand on the lever and turned it sharply. Not for one turn - but as much as I could - and even though the device was constructed so that I could do it with minimal efforts I still had to put force into it.

The shackles pulled his limbs up and down - and now there was no speech about any degrees. I heard the most terribly, harrowing sound of his spine ripping.

This was the end. Once more Mary Beth's head jerked up - and we could see his face, dreadful in its suffering - and there was thick dark blood spouting out of his mouth in flood-waves. His legs twisted in convulsions - and his arms, too - but these were the jerks of a smashed insect.

And then I froze up. Because his eyes suddenly moved and turned to me - immense orifices of infernal torment - but they found me in the same manner as he looked at me when I was guiding him to the place of his martyrdom - as if I was the only person who existed for him. And then his black lips moved - and though there was just breath, no sound in what he said I understood him.

"Rodion," the word was.

Then it was washed with more blood out of his mouth - and the agony rose to its peak momentarily to be over a second later.

I turned away and walked from the scene.

• * *

Both Nadya and the children were sleeping when I came in. I didn't bother the kids, just looked at them breathing peacefully in the shadowy room. Our bed was warm and ready for me - and I slid into it feeling how Nadya shifted a little, giving me place. Her night-gown slithered from her shoulder and I couldn't help it - I bent to her and put a kiss on her opalescent soft skin. She smiled dreamily.

The End