Mr. Snuff Read online

  Mr. Snuff

  Jon Athan

  Copyright © 2016 Jon Athan

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For more information on this book or the author, please visit www.jon-athan.com. General inquiries are welcome.

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJonAthan

  Twitter: @Jonny_Athan

  Cover image by Adrijus at RockingBookCovers.com.

  Thank you for the support.

  WARNING

  This book contains scenes of intense violence and unpleasant themes. Some parts of this book may be considered violent, cruel, disturbing, or unusual. Certain implications may also trigger strong emotional responses. This book is not intended for those easily offended or appalled. Please enjoy at your own discretion.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter One

  Welcome to the Industry

  “Come on, turn on the lights,” Carrie Wheeler said with a nervous smile plastered on her face. “I really don't feel like playing this game right now, guys. I thought we were here for business. I'm here for the money, you know?”

  There was no response. Carrie inspected her strange surroundings, glancing every which way for a sign – any sign. The room was swallowed by impenetrable shadows. The ominous darkness engulfed the mysterious room, swallowing the young woman's delicate figure. Her eyesight was utterly useless in the strange area.

  Carrie tilted her head towards the ceiling and sniffed like a dog staring up at the dinner table. The air was stained with a vile odor. The atrocious stench walloped her nostrils, pummeling her olfactory senses with a fetor of rotting flesh. She retched and pinched her wrinkled nose upon catching a whiff of the odious stench.

  Carrie muttered, “What is that smell?” She furrowed her brow and asked, “Is there anyone there? Hello? Can you... Can you hear me? Seriously, guys, is this some sort of sick game? Is this a prank? Hello?”

  The sound of thudding footsteps and indistinct muttering echoed through the room. The faint male voices overlapped each other, creating a nearly imperceptible garble of whispers. A screeching sound, like a heavy wooden chair scraping concrete, immediately followed. A group of people blatantly entered the room and settled in the chamber. Carrie stood before an audience of men – men veiled by shadows. She swallowed the lump of anxiety clogging her throat. The gulp was louder than the murmurs.

  Carrie asked, “Stephen, are you there? Stephen? What's going on here?” There was no response. Carrie stomped and dropped her arms to her sides like a child throwing a temper tantrum. She sternly said, “Answer me. What the hell is going on here? Huh? This isn't what I signed up for, Stephen. I'm not here to play these stupid games.”

  Carrie stared up as a light beamed down onto her from the ceiling. The incandescent bulb created a circle of dazzling light, illuminating Carrie's slim figure and whisking away the dingy shadows. Blinded by the bright light, Carrie held her hand to her face, then she glanced around the room. To her utter dismay, the rest of the room was still dominated by the darkness. She could only see the concrete beneath her white sneakers and a black bandana folded into a makeshift blindfold on the ground. Brimming with uncertainty, she bit her bottom lip, then she slumped her head down.

  Carrie stared down at her body, contemplating the peculiar situation. She pondered her undetermined fate as she examined herself – an egotistical thinker. Carrie stood five-five with a slim figure. Her straight black hair sat down to her narrow shoulders. She had glowing brown eyes and speckles plastered on her defined cheeks. She wore a white sundress and white sneakers – a fairly simple but attractive outfit. She was a naturally jovial and outspoken woman trapped in a dingy room – a beacon of light caught in a dark tailspin.

  Carrie's bottom lip quivered as she stuttered, “I–I... I changed my mind, okay? Stephen, I changed my mind. I want to...”

  From the shadows, a male with a tender voice said, “Hello, Carrie Wheeler. I understand you are here for money. You are here to... to make money doing something you love. Something you are very passionate about. I understand you are also seeking fame. You are searching for a way to break away from this small town and live with the stars. Am I correct?”

  Carrie stared into the darkness with an uncertain squint. The disembodied voice was mellifluous and smooth. There was a slightly noticeable accent, but the articulation clearly originated from a well-spoken man. Despite the soothing tone, Carrie shuddered from the mystery. She didn't recognize the voice.

  The eloquent man asked, “You want to have sex for money? You want to make movies for adults? Am I correct?”

  Carrie twiddled her right foot, twirling the tip of her shoe on the concrete floor like a bashful child. She said, “Yes, I was... Listen, I was told by my boyfriend that you would have an 'opportunity' for me. That's all. What's going on here? What kind of interview is this?”

  “This is not an interview. This is the welcoming committee, Carrie. We are here to welcome you to the industry. I am here to welcome you to the industry. My name is Andy Wu and I am the executive producer of this brand of adult films.”

  “I've... I've got the job? Already?”

  “Of course, of course. You are perfect for the job. You have the look we have been searching for. You have the spunk we need, Carrie. You've got the job and we can begin production immediately. Does that sound good to you?”

  Carrie was perplexed by Andy's rapid acceptance. She had never been hired for a job so quickly. She had never vaulted over the interview process without a tumble. The young woman slowly shook her head as she stared down at the grimy floor. She could not comfortably accept the offer – her mind was clouded with doubt.

  Carrie glanced towards the origin of the voice directly ahead, then she asked, “What exactly am I going to be doing? What kind of porn are you talking here, mister?” From the cracks and muck on the ground, she could see she was not in a regular studio. Carrie asked, “Where are we?”

  Andy softly chuckled, then he responded, “We're at my secret studio. A top secret studio, which is why I asked Stephen to blindfold you in case things didn't work out. I see you already removed the blindfold, though.”

  “I was scared.”

  “That's fine, that's fine. You see, I seek privacy because I operate under the table. Without the government extorting me, I am able to make more money. The more money I make, the more I can pay. You understand the connection? I can pay you very well for your work. I think the secrecy is justified in this case, don't you agree?”

  With flushed cheeks, Carrie pondered her next question. She held her hand to her chest, feeling her palpitating heart. Although she sought a career in pornography, she was not yet accustomed to the business – she was not freed of her innocence.

  Carrie crossed her arms and said, “You didn't answer my other question. What kind of porn are we talking here? Huh? I'm not some random whore or junkie off the street. I'm not going to sit here and do some hardcore rape scenes or some bizarre fetishes. I don't mess with the pain, the piss, or the shit.” She stared do
wn at the concrete floor and said, “That's what this place looks like. It looks like some sick sex dungeon.”

  Andy gently laughed, then he said, “Carrie, you don't have to worry about that. There won't be any hardcore sex. Believe me, those are not the type of videos we produce. We stick to... to custom videos, if you will. We produce videos specifically prepared for high-paying clients. In fact, this entire interview process has been part of a custom video. Of course, this little explanation will be cut out, but we've actually already started filming your debut. Amazing, isn't it?”

  Carrie nervously smiled as she glanced around the room. She searched for the hidden cameras, but to no avail. Like the mysterious audience, the elusive cameras were veiled by the ominous shadows. She contemplated Andy's peculiar explanation. She wanted to shout and fight, kick and scream, but the explanation piqued her interest.

  Carrie said, “When... When Stephen told me about this, he said it would be completely anonymous. 'No one will find out about it because they'll blur your face.' That's what he said. Are you... I mean, how anonymous are we talking here? It is anonymous, right?”

  Andy responded, “We can make it anonymous, sure. We can make it as anonymous as you'd like. Our client simply adores shy girls. I think he's going to love you.” A snapping sound echoed through the chamber. Andy said, “Let's make it anonymous.”

  Carrie gasped as her eyes were covered by a pair of large, coarse hands from behind. She tightly shut her eyes and shuddered as she felt the rough fingers on her face. She anxiously chuckled, hopelessly trying to laugh off the eerie event. She did not want to appear weak in front of her audience. She sought the upper-hand.

  Andy said, “This is fairly anonymous, don't you think? If you can't see them, they can't see you. Keep telling yourself that and you'll eventually believe it. A mantra can help you overcome your greatest fears. It helps you concentrate on the task at hand. Now, are you ready to begin?”

  With the mysterious hands over her eyes, Carrie shook her head and said, “No, no, no. First of all, we need to stop this creepy bullshit. I'm not going to participate if you act like... like this. I'm also going to need a contract. I need a written contract guaranteeing I won't have to do certain scenes and my face will be blurred. I need that guarantee. And... And I want Stephen here. I want him to keep watch. Okay?”

  “No. There are no contracts. It's under the table, remember? If I give you a contract and you come around suing, then everything is revealed to the world and my business falls apart. I can't do that, darling. It's out of the question.”

  “Well, if you're afraid of being sued, how am I supposed to trust you? Huh? It makes it sound like you're up to something. Like... like if you're planning to break the agreement. I don't like that.”

  Andy asked, “Really?”

  Carrie bit her bottom lip and gave off a slight nod – really. The man behind Carrie removed his hands and retreated into the darkness. Andy began snickering, simpering like a child pulling a devious prank. An orchestra of tittering erupted from the darkness as the men giggled. Carrie's breathing intensified as she furrowed her brow. She was ridiculed by a crowd of men she could not see. The humiliation stabbed at her ego, the fear shattered her psyche.

  Carrie inhaled deeply, then she sternly said, “I'm not doing it. I won't be in your videos. I want to go now. Where's Stephen? Where's my boyfriend?” With Carrie's sudden refusal, the snickering dwindled to indistinct mutters. Carrie shouted, “Stephen! I'm not doing this anymore! I don't care about the money! Take me home!”

  Andy coughed, then he said, “I'm sorry, Carrie, but that's not an option. Like I said, we've already began filming your debut. You won't be going anywhere. We have a show to record, an order to fulfill, a client to please. And, unfortunately for you, we're missing a few people today. We have no one to replace an innocent girl like yourself. You are the star. Savor your 15 minutes.”

  Carrie lunged forward, then she yelped as she was pulled back. The concealed person behind her tightly gripped her face and pulled her towards his sturdy chest. Carrie slapped and scratched at the restraining hands, helplessly trying to escape. Her squirm and sobs were ineffective. The man was not disconcerted by Carrie's frantic movements.

  As he watched her fight, Andy ecstatically said, “Wow! Bravo, Carrie, bravo. Put on a show. Give us something to sell. Make us proud!”

  With a cracking voice, Carrie yelled, “I won't do this! Please, don't do this to me! I'll tell them... I'll tell them you raped me! I swear, I'll tell the police everything! Let me go!”

  Once again, the derisive symphony of laughter erupted – goofy giggles, crackling cackles, and clucking chuckles. As tears streamed down her cheeks, Carrie dug her sharp pink fingernails into the man's hands. To her utter surprise, the man did not tremble or shout. He did not react to the piercing fingernails. His demeanor was imperturbable.

  As her arms fell to her sides in a motion of defeat, Carrie said, “No... No means 'no.' Just... Just let me go. I'm not... I'm not having sex with any of you pigs. I'm not doing it.”

  Andy sighed, then he said, “Don't worry, darling. There won't be any sex involved. There will be no pleasure for you. Our client will certainly enjoy it, but you will despise it. You... Well, you will feel nothing but pain. Innocent Anguish is the name of your film.”

  “My–My dad will... He'll come looking for me.”

  “He won't find you. Let's begin.”

  A towering man emerged from the darkness, tightly gripping Carrie's dome. He donned a black robe down to his ankles; his black trousers and black dress shoes were visible beneath the cloak. His face was veiled with a black pointed hat and a black cloth mask. Only his crystal blue eyes could be seen through the holes on the mask. His eyes sparkled with deviance – zany, sinister eyes.

  Carrie's bottom lip quivered upon spotting the man. Shocked by the terror, her fight-or-flight response locked her in place. Before she could utter a word or move a muscle, the man gagged Carrie's mouth, then he pushed her to the floor. Carrie's muffled cries reverberated through the dark room. Her indistinct calls for help were swallowed by the shadows. She wiggled like a pig in mud, but to no avail. Her attempts were fruitless.

  Over Carrie's muffled cries, Andy said, “Get a shot from every angle. Get a close-up of all of the wounds and her mouth as she screams. Make her bleed and squeal, you hear me? You know he likes that crap. Harvest the unscathed organs and burn the body when she's finished.”

  Chapter Two

  Worrisome Oblivion

  Russell Wheeler strolled down the hall of the abandoned apartment building, worriedly staring down at his touchscreen cellphone. The gray dilapidated walls were scrawled with vibrant graffiti. The tile flooring was chipped and begrimed. His derelict and run-down surroundings were insignificant. The crumbling building was irrelevant. Russell was lost in his labyrinthine mind, searching for answers in a clouded maze.

  Shattering his contemplation, Scott Swanson snapped his fingers in front of Russell's face. Scott asked, “Hey, buddy, are you listening?”

  Woebegone, Russell shoved his phone into his pocket and nodded. He responded, “Yeah, yeah. I'm listening. I'm here.”

  Scott furrowed his brow and tilted his head as he examined Russell – inspecting a friend as if he had just met a stranger. Russell stood five-eleven with a brawny physique. His grizzled hair protruded from beneath his black beanie. His stubble and wiry goatee matched the hair on his dome, dappled with white patches. He had gentle brown eyes. He donned a black and gray windbreaker jacket, dark blue jeans, and black boots. The man was quiet and introverted, austere but kind.

  Filled with doubt, Scott slowly nodded and said, “Okay, okay... Well, follow me. I want you to work on this room next, alright?”

  Russell trailed behind Scott as the pair walked through a splintered doorway. He watched his peer with a keen eye. Scott was a stubby man with a proud swagger. He wore a navy two-button pinstriped suit with polished black dress shoes. His black hair was tightly
slicked back and his face was clean shaved. He reeked of cheap aftershave, staining the air with his mere presence.

  To the inexperienced eye, Scott appeared like a weedy little man. He could be mistaken for a man with a big mouth and a soft a bite – all gums, no canines. In reality, Scott was a prospective mafioso – a gangster, a thug, a career criminal. He was a man of firm action and unwavering loyalty. Although he was entrenched in criminal activity, there wasn't a more honest man in the city.

  As he strolled towards the center of the seamlessly-connected living room and kitchen, Scott said, “I want you to bring your guys in and knock out these walls. Tear them all down. They're crap, they won't sell. Frankly, we don't need them. Remove the tiles and floorboards, check the pipes, yadda yadda. You know the drill. Give me a full report and a receipt, then we'll proceed with the renovations. Business as usual.” Russell did not respond. Scott glanced over his shoulder and asked, “Are you listening?”

  Russell gave off half of a smile and responded, “No. No, I'm not listening. To be honest with you, I haven't heard a single word.”

  Scott frowned and asked, “What the hell's wrong with you, Russ? You look like you're completely out of it, pal. You're the one that asked me for work. You asked me for this. If you didn't want to do it, what the hell did you call me for? Huh? What's going on with you?”

  “I wanted to do it. I wanted the work, Scotty...”

  Scott raised his brow and wagged his index finger at Russell. He said, “Hey, what did I tell you about calling me 'Scotty?' Huh? I ain't no damn kid, Russ. You know better than that. Don't call me that again. I'm serious.”

  Russell shut his eyes and waved his arms – a gesture of peace. He sighed, then he said, “I wanted the work, Scott. I'm just worried about my daughter. That's all. Carrie hasn't been home for days. Three days. You know how people are. She could be out there in a ditch. I'm sorry if I'm a little 'out of it,' alright? I'm sorry.”