The Final Broadcast

Riley Voss, true crime reporter, gets the chance of a lifetime to interview a serial rapist and murderer, only 48 hours before his execution

Riley Voss stared at her reflection in the small mirror propped against the prison's cold concrete wall. Her makeup was flawless, smoky eyes, red lips that screamed confidence. At 29, she knew how to play the part: the fearless true-crime podcaster who stared down monsters. Her black blouse hugged her curves, the pencil skirt professional yet sexy enough for the camera. Image mattered in this game. Subscribers expected her to look the part, even when interviewing a man who'd raped and killed seven women.

She adjusted her earpiece. "Mia, sound check?"

"Loud and clear, Riles," her producer's voice crackled from the van outside. "Stream's up. Pre-roll ads are running. Viewer count at 5k already, and we're not even live."

Riley's pulse quickened. This was it, the episode that would catapult "The Voss Files" from niche hit to mainstream sensation. Elias Kane, the Midnight Marauder, had agreed to a live-streamed interview 48 hours before his execution. No network would touch it, but StreamXtreme didn't care about censors. They thrived on uncut content, taking a 30% cut of donations and ads. Riley's cut would be life-changing.

She glanced at the setup: two cameras, one wide shot of the steel table, one close, up on Elias's face. The prison had approved it under strict conditions, no physical contact, guards in the room, chains on him. But the thrill was in the risk. Her 1.2 million subscribers loved the edge.

The door buzzed open. Elias Kane shuffled in, shackled at wrists and ankles, orange jumpsuit baggy on his 6'2" frame. He was 42, with sharp features, salt-and-pepper hair, and eyes like black voids. He sat, smiling faintly as the guards positioned themselves at the exits.

"Ms. Voss," he said, voice low and even. "Pleasure to meet you."

Riley hit the live button. The viewer count jumped to 20k. "Welcome to a special live episode of The Voss Files. I'm Riley Voss, here at Blackwood Maximum Security Prison with Elias Kane, convicted of the rape and murder of seven women between 2012 and 2022. Elias, thank you for agreeing to this."

He nodded. "The truth should be heard before I go."

The interview started slow. Riley eased in with basics, his childhood, the trigger for his crimes. Elias answered calmly, almost philosophically. "I didn't hate women. I wanted to see their breaking point. The moment the body overrides the mind."

Chat scrolled furiously: "Creep alert" "Ask about the details!" Superchats popped, $20, $50, with questions attached. Mia fed her the best ones through the earpiece.

"Tell us about your first victim, Sarah Jennings," Riley said, voice steady. "You abducted her from her car after work."

Elias leaned forward, chains rattling. "She was a teacher. Strong willed. I took her to a cabin in the woods. Tied her to the bed. Started with my hands, fingers inside her, feeling her resist. But she got wet. They always do."

Riley's stomach twisted, but she pushed on. "Did she fight?"

"Oh yes. Screamed, begged. But when I entered her... the way her hips bucked. That was the truth. Pain and pleasure aren't opposites."

The viewer count hit 100k. Donations: $5k. Comments: "This is intense" "More! Describe the orgasm!"

Riley felt a flush, adrenaline she told herself. But there was something else, a forbidden curiosity. Her podcast thrived on this: the dark underbelly that people consumed in secret.

An hour in, Elias described his third victim in graphic detail. "I made her narrate it. 'Tell me how it feels,' I said. She cried, but her voice broke when she came. 'It hurts... but it's good.'"

Riley shifted in her seat. The room felt hotter. Chat: "Riley looks flushed lol" Superchat $200: "Ask if he'd do it to you."
She ignored it. "Why the recordings? You left voice memos at the scenes."

"To share the truth," he said, eyes locking on hers. "Like you're doing now. Broadcasting pain for likes."

The words landed like a punch. Riley's phone buzzed, texts from friends: "This guy's psycho. Be careful." But the numbers climbed: 300k viewers, $15k donated.
Then the lights flickered. A siren wailed in the distance. Elias's smile widened.

"Showtime."

The guards moved, but too late. Elias surged up, his wrist chains snapping with a metallic pop. Riley's brain froze: How? He grabbed one guard's taser, zapped him, then the other. The door locked from the inside, a deadbolt she hadn't noticed.

"Mia! Emergency!" Riley yelled into her mic.
Static in her earpiece. Elias ripped it out, crushing it under his boot. The cameras kept rolling—l, one knocked sideways, but streaming. Viewer count: 500k.

"Riley," he said calmly, advancing. "The truth starts now."

She backed against the wall, heart hammering. "This is live. They'll come for you."

He laughed. "That's the point. The audience wants it."

He lunged. Riley fought, her nails raking his face, knee to his groin. But he was strong, pinning her arms with one hand, his body weight crushing her. The table edge dug into her back as he slammed her down.
"Stop! Please!" she screamed.

He tore her blouse open, buttons scattering. Her bra exposed, black lace. His free hand yanked her skirt up, fingers ripping her panties aside. "Narrate it, Riley. For your fans."

The mic was still clipped to her collar. She heard the laptop speakers: donation pings, chat frenzy. "Holy shit, it's real" "Rape on live stream??" Superchat $500: "Do it harder."

Elias freed his cock,thick, veined, erect. He positioned himself between her legs, thrusting in dry. Pain exploded in her cunt, tearing, burning. Riley howled, her body arching.

"Fuck, you're tight," he grunted, pulling back and slamming deeper. The table shook. She felt blood trickle, but also, god, no, slickness building.

"Describe it," he demanded, holding the mic to her lips.

"It... hurts," she gasped. "He's raping me... oh god, stop!"

But her hips twitched, body responding despite the agony. Friction turned to heat. She came, sudden, shameful, waves crashing as she cried out.

Elias laughed. "First orgasm on air. Check the donations."

The laptop chimed: $20k. Chat: "She came! Legend" "Worth the sub."

Riley sobbed, humiliated. But the numbers, 700k viewers. The high hit her like a drug.
He flipped her over, face-down on the table.

"Anal for the big spenders."

"No!" she begged.

He spat on her ass, pushed in. Agonizing stretching, pain. She screamed, but again, the betrayal. Pleasure amid pain. Another orgasm, louder this time.

"Narrate," he said.

"It's in my ass... tearing me... but I'm coming again... fuck, why?"

Donations: $50k. 1.5 million viewers.
Hours blurred. He used her mouth, throat-fucking until she gagged, cum spilling down her chin. Forced her to ride him, hands on her hips as she narrated: "He's making me fuck him... my body's... betraying me."

The phone buzzed endlessly. Texts: Mom: "Riley? What's happening?" Ex-boyfriend: "Turn it off!" Fans: "This is epic content."
Elias made her log into Instagram—password guessed from her public bios. Live there too: 2 million followers watching. She read comments: "You look so hot broken" "Likes for more!"

The SWAT breach came at hour four. Elias surrendered, hands up, grinning. "Thanks for the show, folks. Execution's canceled—I'm famous now."

Riley was bundled into an ambulance, body aching, mind shattered. The footage was everywhere, clips on TikTok, Reddit threads, news cycles. "True-Crime Horror: Podcaster Raped Live."

Hospital: Tests, therapy offers. Her agent called: "Riley, this is gold. Book deal? Netflix?"

She stared at her phone, 8 million followers now. Notifications: "Brave queen!" "Replay the cum scene?"

Six months later, Riley's new studio gleamed. "Survivor Unfiltered" Episode 1. "Today, we relive it. Patreon for uncut."
She played the clips, narrating her pain, her orgasms. Donations: $100k in an hour.
Alone that night, she scrolled the viral edits, her screams set to music, memes of her face in ecstasy. Hand between her legs, she came to the highest-view clip, tears falling. "Worth it," she whispered. "They're still watching."

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Written by [email protected]