“I wouldn’t do that,” I warn you, “you wouldn’t want to end up like all the others.” You feel your breath catch in your throat. “W-what do you want?” You manage to stammer out. I walk closer to you slowly, pressing the barrel of the gun against your temple, cupping your face in my free hand. I give you a wet, sloppy kiss on the mouth, full of aggression and lust. “The only thing a whore like you has to offer.”

I pull at the hem of your shirt, and you pull away. I cock the gun, my finger teasing the trigger. “Go ahead, give me a reason,” I encourage, “I don’t mind fucking a corpse.” The threat gets through to you, and you shakily pull Your shirt over your head and undo your bra. My open hand greedily finds its way to your chest, groping and kneading roughly. You wince and squirm under my touch, but otherwise are rooted in place. Satisfied, I trail the barrel down your body and to your hips. “Off,” I command.

You oblige, stripping your lower half, standing bare. I twirl my pistol around, motioning you to turn your back towards me. You do, quiet sobs escaping your lips. I walk forward, grabbing a fist full of your hair and forcing you to bend down, your face pressed against the bark of a nearby tree. I drag the cold metal of my weapon up your thigh, the muzzle pressing against your entrance. I push it inside you, your body giving no resistance as I easily glide my pistol in and out of your cunt.

Your cries get louder and more pronounced. “Whats wrong?” I ask with faux sympathy, “you’re crying, but you’re so fucking wet.” I force the gun deeper inside you, and you let out a surprised moan. “You sick fuck, I knew you’d like this.” I up the rhythm, your pussy glistening from the attention. “I’ve been watching you for so long, I know all the fucked up porn you’ve been looking for. I know you’ve been fucking yourself wishing this would happen.”

Your only response are pathetic whimpers, and I pull the pistol out of you. I fish my cock out of my pants, throbbing as I rub the head against your entrance. “Admit it. Admit you’re a fucked up, disgusting whore and I’ll give you what you want.” My words only send more heat to your core, as you desperately try to grind back against me. I press the muzzle against the back of your head. “Say it, or I blow your fucking brains out.”

You squeeze your eyes shut tight. “I-,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I’m a fucked up, disgusting whore, please use me mister…” With your admission, I thrust myself inside you, the gun still pressed against your head. My pounding forces your head harder against the trunk of the tree, the wood digging into your face. But you don’t care, lost in the ecstasy of being used like a toy. I whip you in the back of the head with the butt of the gun, the pain sending you spiraling, squeezing around me.

“I could do it right now you know. I could pull the trigger and end your pathetic little life.” I pound harder into you, your moans filling the otherwise silent hair. “And you’d die happy, you know why?” You’re throwing your hips back into me now, desperately meeting my cock with every thrust. “Because there is nothing more that you want in life than being a piece of meat for someone to use up and throw away like garbage.”

My words send you over the edge, your cunt tightening around my cock, your body squirming and spasming. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you have the widest smile I’ve ever seen on your face. It would be a crime to see that smile go away. I pull the trigger, the bullet ripping through your skull, splattering the tree with your brain. Your body immediately goes limp, the only thing holding you up being my own body pressed against you.

I grab your hair and force you head up so I can see your lifeless eyes. It drives me over the edge, and I hilt myself deep inside your corpse, emptying myself , treating you like nothing more than a bin to dump my seed into. I suppose thats all you are now. I let your body collapse onto the floor. The look of ecstasy is forever etched onto your face. I clean myself, ensuring I look presentable, before marching out of the woods, leaving your body to become one with the forest.

Just think about it, You won’t start shaking when you see man walk down the street, or go into a panic attack whenever a door slams shut. You’ll stop craving attention from creeps and perverts online. Stop putting yourself in such dangerous situations because you’re that desperate for even a hint of human affection. Who knows, you could even become deserving of love.

Don’t be coy with me. I know what you are. I know how depraved, perverted, and fucked up you are. You can try to deny it, try to act like you’re normal and well adjusted, but we both know the truth.

You crave horrific, terrible things to be done to you. You want someone to hurt you in ways that would get them in trouble. You want to scream and cry and call someone father while they drill into your cunt. You want things done to you so traumatic, so deplorable that your therapist is at a loss for words.

It’s so easy to let yourself be hurt, to surrender yourself to someone so much bigger and stronger than you. But bringing that pain to yourself? Punching your own stomach, your own tits, slapping your own face, going against every natural instinct in your body to give yourself more pain? And for what? All because I asked you to. Because you know I’m getting off to it. Because you hope that it’ll make me like you just a little more.

I’m so fucking sorry doll, but you have to take some of the blame for this. Look at yourself, how could anyone possibly resist taking advantage of you? You’re the perfect victim. Lonely, depressed, so full of self hatred even this vile defilement is a welcome distraction from it all.