tagErotic HorrorRock Star

Rock Star


*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.


She flipped the cigarette out onto the street and blew out the smoke. She paid no mind to the old woman that glared hatefully at her, bothered by the cigarette smoke.

"Eat me," she muttered under her breath and walked down the dirty sidewalk. A milling throng at the end of the sidewalk broke through her self absorption and she looked at them with mild curiosity.

"Burn Victims coming to town! Woo!" a girl squealed in excitement to her friends and they screamed in unison.

Terri looked over at the ticket office, its curtain still down. The light came on, and the crowd pressed against the wall, the excitement building.

Terri scrambled to get out of the milling throng and stepped back to watch. Picking pockets wasn't her best talent, but in a crowd of pushing, shoving people, she might be able to snag a wallet out of an open purse, or a wallet not put back carefully enough into a pocket.

She'd heard of Burn Victims, liked a couple of their songs. She especially liked the 'Fuck You' attitude of the lead singer, Emanuel Morte.

The curtain in the window was raised and a few girls squealed in excitement. One did not notice when her wallet was slipped out of her purse. She would notice soon enough, but by that time, Terri would be long gone.

A young man stepped away from the window, bumped into Terri, and said his apologies. He stuck his wallet back into his pocket and walked away. Terri looked at the ground and saw that his ticket, just purchased, had fallen to the ground. She picked it up and stuck it in her jacket pocket, next to the girl's wallet. She slowly but deliberately walked off.


"Aw, kiss my ass," Emanuel Morte snarled at the group of protestors behind the police barricade.

"Repent!" an old man yelled, waving a Bible at above his head.

Others screamed obscenities back at the protestors and screamed in excitement as Emanuel waved to them.

He and the manager of Burn Victims entered the television studio and walked down the highly polished corridor toward the studio.

"Okay, one more times, no cursing, okay?" Rickie pleaded. "Bad enough half the world hates you, do you have to come off as such an uneducated jack ass?"

"Fuck you," Emanuel sneered. "People who hate me are going to hate me, people who love me are going to love me, no matter what I fucking say."

"See? See? That. Right there, that's what I'm talking about," Rickie said. "Fuck this and fuck that, and all people hear is the 'beep beep' of you being bleeped out."


"How do you answer your critics when they say you're the Antichrist?" the female reporter asked him.

"I say they don't read their Bible," Emanuel laughed. "The Antichrist is supposed to rise in the East, wearing the turban of politics. I ain't no politician, I'm a fucking rock star."

Rickie grimaced; that was the twenty third time in just five minutes that the audio engineer had marked his pad, the edit point for the 'bleep.'

"That ain't what it says," the audio engineer muttered. "It says 'he will rise up from the sea of power.'"

She laughed a nervous little giggle, asked a few more inane questions, mainly about his long blond locks, which reached the middle of his back, then wrapped up the interview.

"Man but your tits are fucking nice," Emanuel whispered to her. "I'd love to suck those mother fuckers."

"What about your wife?" she giggled.

"Yeah, I bet she'd love to suck on them too," he guffawed.

Rickie waited in the lobby while Emanuel disappeared into the dressing room of the reporter.

"Aw yeah, I told you them tits were fucking nice," Emanuel laughed as he roughly grabbed and sucked them.

"Easy," she giggled. "Those puppies cost me a lot!"

"No, they cost your husband a lot," Emanuel corrected her and she froze for a moment.

How'd he know she was married? She didn't wear wedding rings and still used her maiden name. She very rarely ever talked to any of her peers and even less rarely mentioned her middle-aged husband. She hadn't even brought him with her to the television station's Christmas party last year, telling him that it was for staff only, no spouses.

He brushed his cock head across her wet pussy lips and wiggled it vigorously against her clitoris and she groaned with the delicious sensations.

He entered her and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Her orgasm was quick in coming and was nearly white-hot in intensity.

She checked her make-up before leaving the dressing room; wouldn't do to look freshly fucked in front of the pathetic cast and crew she worked with. As far as she was concerned, they were so far beneath her; she was on her way to the national networks any day now while the rest of them would be stuck here in this small market forever. The same was true of her husband; he had been nice enough to help her out when she was a stripper, paying for her college tuition and giving her expensive cars to drive, but as soon as she hit the big time, he was gone.


Terri dug the girl's wallet out and almost screamed in excitement; there was nearly four hundred dollars in cash. The girl's picture ID looked vaguely like her; Terri looked to see if there were any credit cards and whooped when she found the American Express card. She had better hurry, though, before the girl realized her wallet was missing and cancelled the card.

The local department store provided her with a couple of new outfits and she even bought a stylish bag to carry the extra clothing in. Her stomach grumbled and she realized she was hungry.

"What the fuck, might as well," she giggled and stepped into an upscale, expensive restaurant. The credit card paid for her lunch and left a generous tip for the waiter.

"I could get used to this shit," Terri said and smiled.

She saw Buckeye, one of the lookouts for Too Tall and walked across the street.

"Hey, Buckeye, where's Too Tall?" she greeted him.

"Around back," Buckeye nodded with his head.

She nodded and started walking in the direction Buckeye had indicated.

"Hey, when you and I hooking up?" he called out and she didn't bother turning around, just held up her middle finger to him.

He laughed and continued to look up and down the street for any sign of trouble; other gangs, or the cops.


She felt the immediate euphoria when she located the vein and jabbed the needle in.

"Shit, fuck me," she grunted and laughed out loud.

She'd started off smoking marijuana and drinking stolen bottles of wine. Her boyfriend had turned her on to snorting cocaine and had laughed when she eagerly offered to suck his cock for some more of that wonderful stuff. He had been trying to get into her panties for nearly six months, but the nineteen year old seemed to have some weird hang-up about sex.

She was on her knees; slobbering all over his cock and didn't even protest when he shot off into her mouth. She laughed and swallowed the mouthful of his semen, then bounced up and demanded some more coke.

Jimmy soon found out supporting himself and a strung out girlfriend was too expensive so he passed her on to Too Tall. At first Terri had balked at having sex with a black man, but when he showed her how to shoot up the cocaine, she told him he could have all three of her holes. Within two days, Terri found herself out on the street, sucking and fucking anyone with fifty bucks.

Too Tall smiled and hit Terri with a speedball, cocaine and heroin combined and she actually felt an orgasm.

Four years later, no one would pay the emaciated looking girl for sex and Too Tall cut her loose. She took to stealing to support her speedball habit.


The limousine cut through traffic and Rickie looked out the window at the drab surroundings.

"Never understood what anyone ever saw in this shit hole," he said to no one in particular.

"Fuck you man, my home," Mary Morte said.

Rickie looked at the model and wondered at the power she seemed to possess. She was tall, six feet, and unbelievably thin. She weighed only one hundred and eight pounds and was without any curves at all. Her blonde hair always looked greasy and dirty, her eyes held no light at all. Yet she was one of the highest paid models in the industry and it was rumored that Penthouse had offered her an unbelievable five million for a spread in their magazine.

The limousine picked up speed and Rickie looked back out at the landscape as the limousine rapidly approached the stadium.


Terri came to and groaned in disgust; she'd crapped on herself again. She slowly got to her feet, found her bag, and walked to the end of the alley. Someone had accidentally left the back door to the diner open and she slipped in.

If the manager saw her, he'd run her out. But he didn't see her and she managed to slip into the ladies restroom. She cleaned herself up and changed into one of the less dirty outfits she had. Inside of the blouse pocket, she found the crumpled ticket for the Burn Victims concert.

Stealing a newspaper from the blind vendor down the street, she checked the date and saw that the concert was that evening. The stadium itself was within eyesight and she smiled.

"Too fucking cool," she said.

Too tall sold her speedball and she scurried back to her alley.

When she came to again, it was getting dark. She felt the ticket scratching against her breast and decided to hurry down to the stadium.


Rickie scurried around, checking all last minute details.

"Why the fuck you keep him around?" Mary asked.

"You fucking know why," Emanuel growled.

"I don't like him," Mary sneered and drank more champagne, straight from the bottle.

"And he don't like us either, so fucking what?" Emanuel laughed.


Terri could hear the band go through their sound check and actually felt the enthusiasm of the crowd and got caught up in their energy.

From behind barricades, various Christian groups were begging the concertgoers to repent, to forego attending the concert of the evil rock band. Terri laughed out loud when one of the concert-goers threw a beer onto a very well endowed girl, making her tee shirt, which was adorned with 'Christ is King,' making the tee shirt translucent. The girl shrieked and covered her now visible breasts and ran away.

The gates were opened and Terri joined in the mad scramble to get to the gates.

"Damn, did it get caught in the washing machine?" the guy asked and smiled a nearly toothless smile at Terri's crumpled up ticket.

"Uh huh," Terri said and he smiled and waved her into the stadium.

She snagged a couple of dollars out of a girl's wallet, dumped the wallet into a garbage can, and bought herself some nachos and a cup of beer. Another girl walked by, purse wide open, just begging to be hit. Terri helped herself to her wallet too.

"Ten bucks?" Terri snorted and threw the wallet into a nearby garbage can.

She found the assigned seat, nearly in the front row and finished her beer. The opening band came on, but was very quickly booed off the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Rickie's whining voice cut through the darkness, booming from the several speakers spread out around the stadium. "Are you ready to feel the burn?"

The crowd roared its approval. Terri could actually feel the dense wall of sound as Burn Victims thrashed into the first song.

"Hey," someone said to Terri, nearly two hours into the show.

"What?" she screamed back at him.

"Emanuel wants you back stage," the man said.

He had on an armband, signifying he was indeed with the band. Onstage, Emanuel smiled right at her, while holding the microphone between his legs, miming a fucking motion.

"No fucking way!" Terri laughed and got to her feet to follow the man.

"Are you ready to pray?" Emanuel screamed into the microphone.

The crowd screamed the affirmative.

"Unearthly father," he crooned into the microphone then held it out to the crowd for them to repeat "Unearthly father."


Terri followed the man underneath the stage itself then down a maze of corridors.

"Want anything?" he asked her when he finally stopped by a door. "We got beer, champagne, vodka."

He leaned closer to Terri. "Marijuana, cocaine, heroin, anything thing you want, we fucking got. Know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah!" she said, eyes open wide.

Inside was a large monitor, showing the stage. Emanuel was really whipping the crowd into frenzy. Five speakers boomed the sound into the small room and Terri sat on a comfortable couch and watched as Emanuel removed his shirt and threw it out into the audience. The screams of the crowd came through the speakers loud and clear.

The roadie located the cocaine and heroin and handed Terri two small bags. HE left the room.

Emanuel's skintight leather pants followed and Emanuel strutted around, dressed only in leopard print thong. He put his thumbs into the waistband and pushed down and the lights went out.

The screams were deafening, even all the way backstage.

Terri gasped and groaned as she felt the speedball course through her veins. Instead of passing out, though, she felt wide-awake, alert, energized.

"Fuck yeah," she giggled.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Emanuel smiled as he strutted in, still dress only in boots and the leopard print thong.

"Yeah, how's it going?" Terri said.

"Fucking great!" Emanuel screamed. "Man! I just fucking get off on this shit, you know?"

"Yeah, I bet," Terri, said.

"Hey, one of us got too much clothes on," Emanuel said.

"Uh huh," Terri said and stood up.

"That's right, bitch, nice and fucking slow, aw but you one hot piece of ass," he encouraged and she stripped as slowly and seductively as she could.

"Let's talk about the commandments," he said and stepped out of his thong.

"Yeah, whatever," Terri said and reached out and stroked his thick cock with her hand.

"You ever skip going to church?" Emanuel asked and rubbed his fingers through Terri's dark brown bush.

"Yeah," Terri giggled. "Once, I skipped so I could get all fucked up, and my boyfriend..."

"Jimmy," Emanuel said and cruelly pinched one of Terri's nipples hard.

"Yeah," Terri said and moaned, half in pain and half in pleasure. "He wanted to fuck, so I'm smoking a big old jay, and he's just plowing me, you know?"

"Ever take the God Damned fucking Lord's name in vain?" Emanuel laughed.

"God damned right!" Terri giggled as Emanuel's fingers tickled her pussy.

"And I'll bet you don't worship Him, do you?" Emanuel asked and put his cock to the entrance of her pussy.

"Fuck no," Terri giggled.

"And as far as honoring your father and your mother," he laughed and shoved his erection into her.

"That old cunt?" Terri asked and orgasmed hard.

"Uh huh," Emanuel laughed. "What about Daddy?"

"Wrinkled up little dick?" Terri asked and groaned again in orgasm.

"Let me fuck you up the ass," Emanuel begged and Terri nodded her head in agreement.

"Go slow, I ain't never done this before," she lied.

"Bull fucking shit!" he laughed out loud. "No, no, not on your knees, I like to fuck them up the ass and look in their eyes."

"What you mean 'Bull fucking shit?'" Terri asked, getting a little angry.

She still lay down on her back, on the comfortable couch. He stared into her eyes and put his cock head against her anus.

"You let Too Tall fuck you up the ass the first time you met him," he said and forced the head just inside of her.

"God damn, that's a big mother fucker!" Terri grunted in agony.

"So, ever kill anyone?" Emanuel asked and looked into her eyes.

"Uh uh," she said and shook her head no. Sweat began to bead on her forehead.

"Wrong!" he laughed. "You've known for two years you're HIV Positive, and have let quite a few guys fuck you. You shared needles with others, knowing that you were giving them your disease."

"How the fuck you know that?" she asked, beginning to sweat even more.

"Ever steal, Terri?" he asked and thrust his cock into her a millimeter.

Tears sprang to her eyes; his cock was really hurting her. The skin felt dry, even though he'd just been in her pussy, which was still drooling her excitement.

"Yeah," she barely managed to gasp out. Hey, how the fuck you know my name?"

"Of course you've stolen," he laughed out loud and she gasped.

His face had changed to the face of the young man whose ticket she'd snagged.

The door opened and Mary Morte walked in. She picked up the bottle of champagne and upended it. She looked over at Terri and Terri wanted to scream; her face had changed to the face of the girl whose wallet she'd snagged.

"My wife," Emanuel said. "But you knew I was married when you started fucking me, huh?"

"Yes," Terri moaned.

"That's adultery, Terri, but what the fuck do you care?" Emanuel laughed.

The pain was intense. His cock felt as if it had swelled five times its normal size in her bowels. Where his fingers dug into her hips felt as if he were tearing her flesh with his fingernails.

"And you're a liar," Emanuel went on.

Terri didn't respond; there was no need to.

"Ever wonder where the name Emanuel Morte comes from?" he asked and groaned aloud; he was buried in her to the hilt.

"Ever coveted the possessions of others?" Mary asked, rubbing her hairy pussy while watching her husband sodomize the young woman.

"NO, please, no more," Terri, begged.

"Emanuel is the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," Emanuel said. He pronounced 'Jesus Christ' as if it were a vulgar word.

"We call him Jesus, Aramaic for 'Lord who saves,'" Mary growled.

"Christos is Greek for 'Teacher,'" Emanuel said and began to pull out of her raw bowels.

"And Mort is Latin for 'Death;' that's where we get such beautiful words like 'Mortician' and 'Rigor Mortis,'" Mary giggled.

"And Mary is the name of the Mother of God," Terri groaned.

"That's right," Mary smiled and lightly stroked Terri's face with her hand.

Terri could feel the flesh tear where Mary stroked. She looked up into Emanuel's eyes, begging for mercy, but saw flames begin to appear in his eyes. Drool dripped from his fangs and dripped onto her face. The droplets burned like acid. He began to thrust in and out of her vigorously.

"Jesus Christ, have mercy on my soul," Terri screamed out.

"No!" both Emanuel and Mary howled in despair.


The paramedics checked for vital signs, shook their heads and put the lifeless body not the gurney. The smell in the stadium's filthy restroom was stifling and they were both glad to get out of the foul smelling enclosure.

The medical examiner assigned the body to an intern; cause of death was fairly apparent. The crusty needle was still in her arm, most of the heroin and cocaine still in the syringe. The intern cut into the abdominal cavity and vomited heartily.

"Jesus fucking Christ," the ME muttered as he looked at Terri's internal organs.

They had been burned horribly. Even her bones looked as if they'd been charred.


"Fucking told you and fucking told you," Rickie said as he spat on the groveling Emanuel and Mary. "Fuck them, claim them for me, then move on. But no! You two are so in love with the sounds of your own voices, you have to just talk and talk!"

"We're sorry!" Mary cried out, Rickie's spittle burning her flesh likes acid.

"No where near as sorry as you're about to be," Rickie howled.


The female reporter hummed to herself happily as she felt Emanuel's baby begin to kick again.

The End.

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your pleasure. If this is not your genre, your cup of tea, don't read it.

If you want to submit feedback but don't have the balls to use your screen name, go get your mommy to do it for you. Honestly, I do not mind negative feedback; some of it is warranted and some of it is actually helpful.

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byJimBob44© 2 comments/ 21672 views/ 6 favorites

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