I answered an online ad for models for a gangbang rape porn shoot. I have been violated and gangbanged by men all my life, but never been paid for it. This was a chance to make money off of being a submissive whore. When I arrived there were a dozen or so men I met who would be my costars. I was given the code word “red,” to say if things got too rough for me and I needed a break. In all my life with masters and various men, no safe word has ever been honored. This was sounding promising.
The filming took place in a warehouse bathroom. To say it was disgusting would be praising it’s condition. The stench was awful. It smelled like death. I swear this was the bathroom from the original Saw movie. The director instructed my costars to tie me up. This was to be a bound gangbang film. Duct tape immobilized my legs; rope on my arms restrained my upper body. The filming began once my body was secured. They fucked my ass, my mouth, my cunt repeatedly. I couldn’t escape the smell of death. I tried to push it out of my mind, but I knew something was up. This was all too good to be true for a subby bitch like me.
While I was being drowned in cum, I saw blood on the floor in one of the stalls. The director realized I saw it. He grabbed me by the hair, dragged me over to the toilet and shoved my face into the nasty bloody water. “The next stall will be coated in your blood whore,” he snapped. Then he bounced my face off the cold hard toilet seat. I woke up on the floor, blood dried to my face, covered in jizz. I squinted to see better as stark light was hindering my eyesight. Every man who had fucked me was holding some sort of deadly weapon. I saw a knife, a gun, a hatchet, a hammer, a chainsaw, brass knuckles, even a stiletto. I yelled “red” repeatedly hoping their weapons would drop to the floor.
“Stupid greedy whore. This is a XXX snuff porn shoot and you are the victim,” were the last words I heard before, “Snuff the bitch out.” I was bound, gagged, laying on a dingy floor when they charged me. I was stabbed, beaten, cut, shot…My fingers were being snapped off my hand. I could see nothing but red. As I laid in an huge pool of my own blood, unable to move or even speak, the director said, “Cut.” The final words I would ever hear. I thought it was over; that I would be released to get medical attention. Wrong. Cut meant cut my head off. I saw the axe rise above my bloody head, then everything went dark and cold, so very very cold.
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1 comments
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