Page 29 of Stream & Scream
I growl low.
“Take it. Take all of it. You want attention? Want your little fans to see you choke on my cock? You want to be this season’s slut?”
She nods—barely—eyes streaming.
But I’m not evenhere.
I’m back in the woods, watching Liv’s throat shift in sleep. Imagining what she’d sound like gagging for me. What her fists would do when I forced her to take every inch, no choice, no escape. Would she scratch? Would she moan?
Would shelikeit?
I grunt, pace brutal now, fucking Maxine’s face with single-minded rage. Her mascara runs. Her spit coats my shaft. My balls slap her chin.
I pull out. She gasps for air, coughing.
“Please—”
“Swallow it,” I mutter.
And I unload on her face.
Thick drops splash her tongue. She flinches, mouth wide open like a bird waiting for worms. I smear the last streak across her cheek, thumb pressing into her throat until she gulps.
Then I wipe the tip off on her lips, painting her like a canvas no one will ever frame.
She blinks up at me, dazed.
“Was... was that for the show?” she pants, lips still wet, mascara streaking down her cheeks.
I lean in close, just enough for her to see my smile—razor-thin and mean. “No, bitch,” I murmur, voice low and final. “That was for me.”
Then I twist.
Her neck snaps like a fucking wishbone.
Her body crumples, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The cum-covered smile still half-formed.
I watch her twitch.
A few seconds. Maybe more. Doesn’t matter. Just aftershocks. Nerves and reflex.
No soul left in there.
I kneel beside her, pick up her limp wrist, and turn the camera to face the trees. No scream. No body. Just a blank, mossy feed.
I stand, letting my cock soften in the breeze and the weight in my chest settle for a second.
Then I glance down, gloved fingers curling. I swipe a thick streak of cum off the head, slick and still warm. A trophy. A signature.
The forest watches as I walk back toward the glow of dying firelight.
She’s there, exactly where I left her.
Liv.
Still curled inside the tree like the night wrapped her in a secret. Soft breaths. Arms tucked. Lips parted just barely like she’s dreaming of running.
I crouch.
