Bobby was eighteen, just beginning to develop his body in the gym. That’s where I met him. He was so impressed with my body and my beauty that it was easy to entice him home with promises to guide him with his workouts. Gullible twink. We had some great sex and then I drugged him.
When he came out of it, he was standing with his wrists tied behind him. A rope around his chest and under his armpits kept him in an upright position as the drug wore off. Between his legs was a long piece of rebar, one end attached firmly to the floor and the other end poking up into his asshole. And his dick was rock hard, curving up to his belly. The liquid Viagra I shot into him had done its job. As his mind cleared and he realized his situation, Bobby naturally began to shout and protest and threaten…all the things my dudes have done when they woke up in unfortunate situations. I’ve heard it all before. Used to make me a bit uncomfortable, their fear and bravado, but now it’s part of the deal. The bravado fades, the fear increases. Turns me on now. When I first began to bring guys home, it was the kill that provided all the sexual stimulation. I used to feel sorry for them, as they realized they would die a horribly painful death. Now, their fear is almost as great a turn-on as the kill itself. Strong, well-built, smooth, beautiful men. Scared shitless. Of me. I get off on that.
So, I ignored Bobby’s pleas and threats. When I knew he was capable of standing on his own, I walked up to him, reached around him and untied the rope around his chest. “Bobby, you have a steel rod up your ass. As long as you keep standing, you’re fine.” I left the rest unsaid. But his eyes told me he understood. His body was rigid, unmoving, feet firmly planted as he kept up his torrent of threats and pleas, which soon began to be mixed with whines, and then some sobs. I said nothing. Just stood there, looking into his eyes, and smiling.
After a while, he calmed down. Quit the threats and shouts. Whimpered a bit but got kind of quiet. I moved close and ran my hands over his body. He hadn’t developed a lot of musculature yet, but was so sensuous, so smooth, his young skin like silk. He would have been an excellent object for carving, my knife slicing that pure white skin, rivulets of red blood running down his belly and legs. But…not tonight. Save that for another time, another guy.
I knelt and wrapped my lips around his cock. Pressed until his dickhead was deep in my throat. Held it. Then withdrew. No way he would cum, scared as he was. I stood and put my hands on his hips. “Don’t worry, Bobby. You’re in control of this. You’ll figure it out.” It was a lie, of course. But you gotta give them hope. Otherwise, they may give up and die too soon. More fun to drag out their suffering, and my pleasure. I reached behind him and untied his wrists. “OK, Bobby, you’ve got it now.” He looked at me like, what the fuck! “You’re on your own. No restraints. Just that thing up your ass. You should be able to figure this out.”
I stepped away from him. Turned and left the room. Got a beer. Pulled a chair over so I was sitting six feet in front of him. His hands moved, everywhere, nowhere. He didn’t know what to do with them. His mind worked. Could he jump up and off the rod? Maybe. But he didn’t really know how far into him it protruded. And could he get any spring for a jump without bending his knees and letting the rod push further into his ass? If he jumped and failed, he’d end up sliding down on the rod and ripping his guts. I could see his mind considering all of this. In the end, his fear prevented him from trying to jump, as I knew it would. He was stuck. No place to go but down.
Bobby began to plead again. He’d do anything I wanted. Would be my sex slave. Poor fucker knew pleading and promising wouldn’t work, but there was nothing else he could do. I stood, pulled off my tank, slipped out of my jeans, and stood naked in front of him. There was no lust in his eyes now. I ran my hands slowly over my chest and belly and nipples, caressing my sexuality. Softly stroked my hard cock as my eyes feasted on Bobby’s beautiful body. It glistened with sweat now. Fucking sexy! He began to cry, tears mixing with his sweat. And then, his bladder loosened and he peed. A small stream flowed upward from his hard dick, splattered against his belly and then ran down his legs. Puddled at his feet. Bobby’s eyes widened in fear. He knew. I knew. The floor was now slick. Maintaining balance suddenly became much harder.
He panicked. One foot moved slightly and then slid sideways in his piss. His arms flailed as the foot slid and the other leg buckled. Bobby dropped. He screamed as the rod tore into his guts. The rod didn’t have a sharp point. No, it was cut even so as his weight pushed his body down, the blunt end ripped savagely into his organs. He didn’t drop smoothly. He slid, halted, slid some more as his intestines resisted and then gave way and the rough steel tore into his gut about twelve inches. I wish I could have actually seen the rod as it ripped through him…his colon, intestines, stomach, liver, all of it. But it was left to my imagination, and the image almost made me cum right there.
Bobby stopped momentarily but his arms and legs didn’t. They flailed wildly as his weight pulled him down further. He stopped again. It looked like the rod had caught itself on a rib, on his right side. Good. It would miss his heart. He was hung up, no longer screaming. Suddenly, he wasn’t making any noise. His mouth was wide open but making no sound. Then just heavy breathing, sort of a hissing breathing. One leg was bent under him, the other straight out, and blood trickled from his hole. “Christ, Bobby. You are so freaking hot! Best fuck ever, huh? Nobody’s rod up your ass ever felt like this, did it?”
I knelt in front of him. Ran my fingertips over his smooth sweaty pecs. Touched his lips. His hands reached out and rested on my shoulders. Tried to push himself up but had no strength. Eyes wide and blank. I let his hands remain on my shoulders and laid mine on his. I wiggled his body, pressing slightly. There was pain. He sucked in air and made a sort of high pitched wheeze. “Where’s the rod, Bobby? In your lungs yet?” I pressed and he moved a little more, downward. Pressed harder and he dropped another few inches. His hands twitched at his side. His mouth still wide open and wheezing. And then, suddenly, a blast of blood gushed from his mouth, spewing onto my face and chest. It began to run from his nose. I sat back. He was almost motionless, just his head nodding slightly back and forth as blood dribbled from his face, and his hands still twitching at his side.
I stood, and pulled him up and off the rod. It popped out with a little sucking sound, like pulling your dick out of an ass after a great fuck. When he was free, I laid him on the floor and nuzzled up beside him. He was limp but still breathing. Warm and sexy, his dick still hard. I began to make love to him. Kissed his bloody lips. Fucked his ravaged asshole. And sucked him off. Yes, I actually made him cum, a thick bloody goo that splattered onto my face and mixed with his coagulating blood. Then I chewed on his dick until it, too, was a bloody mess. And fucked his mouth. All the time, Bobby wheezed, and his eyes stared blankly. He exhausted me, so I laid back and fell asleep with my arms around his warm, wheezing, twitching body. When I woke hours later, the boy was dead and cold. It was a good night.
When he came out of it, he was standing with his wrists tied behind him. A rope around his chest and under his armpits kept him in an upright position as the drug wore off. Between his legs was a long piece of rebar, one end attached firmly to the floor and the other end poking up into his asshole. And his dick was rock hard, curving up to his belly. The liquid Viagra I shot into him had done its job. As his mind cleared and he realized his situation, Bobby naturally began to shout and protest and threaten…all the things my dudes have done when they woke up in unfortunate situations. I’ve heard it all before. Used to make me a bit uncomfortable, their fear and bravado, but now it’s part of the deal. The bravado fades, the fear increases. Turns me on now. When I first began to bring guys home, it was the kill that provided all the sexual stimulation. I used to feel sorry for them, as they realized they would die a horribly painful death. Now, their fear is almost as great a turn-on as the kill itself. Strong, well-built, smooth, beautiful men. Scared shitless. Of me. I get off on that.
So, I ignored Bobby’s pleas and threats. When I knew he was capable of standing on his own, I walked up to him, reached around him and untied the rope around his chest. “Bobby, you have a steel rod up your ass. As long as you keep standing, you’re fine.” I left the rest unsaid. But his eyes told me he understood. His body was rigid, unmoving, feet firmly planted as he kept up his torrent of threats and pleas, which soon began to be mixed with whines, and then some sobs. I said nothing. Just stood there, looking into his eyes, and smiling.
After a while, he calmed down. Quit the threats and shouts. Whimpered a bit but got kind of quiet. I moved close and ran my hands over his body. He hadn’t developed a lot of musculature yet, but was so sensuous, so smooth, his young skin like silk. He would have been an excellent object for carving, my knife slicing that pure white skin, rivulets of red blood running down his belly and legs. But…not tonight. Save that for another time, another guy.
I knelt and wrapped my lips around his cock. Pressed until his dickhead was deep in my throat. Held it. Then withdrew. No way he would cum, scared as he was. I stood and put my hands on his hips. “Don’t worry, Bobby. You’re in control of this. You’ll figure it out.” It was a lie, of course. But you gotta give them hope. Otherwise, they may give up and die too soon. More fun to drag out their suffering, and my pleasure. I reached behind him and untied his wrists. “OK, Bobby, you’ve got it now.” He looked at me like, what the fuck! “You’re on your own. No restraints. Just that thing up your ass. You should be able to figure this out.”
I stepped away from him. Turned and left the room. Got a beer. Pulled a chair over so I was sitting six feet in front of him. His hands moved, everywhere, nowhere. He didn’t know what to do with them. His mind worked. Could he jump up and off the rod? Maybe. But he didn’t really know how far into him it protruded. And could he get any spring for a jump without bending his knees and letting the rod push further into his ass? If he jumped and failed, he’d end up sliding down on the rod and ripping his guts. I could see his mind considering all of this. In the end, his fear prevented him from trying to jump, as I knew it would. He was stuck. No place to go but down.
Bobby began to plead again. He’d do anything I wanted. Would be my sex slave. Poor fucker knew pleading and promising wouldn’t work, but there was nothing else he could do. I stood, pulled off my tank, slipped out of my jeans, and stood naked in front of him. There was no lust in his eyes now. I ran my hands slowly over my chest and belly and nipples, caressing my sexuality. Softly stroked my hard cock as my eyes feasted on Bobby’s beautiful body. It glistened with sweat now. Fucking sexy! He began to cry, tears mixing with his sweat. And then, his bladder loosened and he peed. A small stream flowed upward from his hard dick, splattered against his belly and then ran down his legs. Puddled at his feet. Bobby’s eyes widened in fear. He knew. I knew. The floor was now slick. Maintaining balance suddenly became much harder.
He panicked. One foot moved slightly and then slid sideways in his piss. His arms flailed as the foot slid and the other leg buckled. Bobby dropped. He screamed as the rod tore into his guts. The rod didn’t have a sharp point. No, it was cut even so as his weight pushed his body down, the blunt end ripped savagely into his organs. He didn’t drop smoothly. He slid, halted, slid some more as his intestines resisted and then gave way and the rough steel tore into his gut about twelve inches. I wish I could have actually seen the rod as it ripped through him…his colon, intestines, stomach, liver, all of it. But it was left to my imagination, and the image almost made me cum right there.
Bobby stopped momentarily but his arms and legs didn’t. They flailed wildly as his weight pulled him down further. He stopped again. It looked like the rod had caught itself on a rib, on his right side. Good. It would miss his heart. He was hung up, no longer screaming. Suddenly, he wasn’t making any noise. His mouth was wide open but making no sound. Then just heavy breathing, sort of a hissing breathing. One leg was bent under him, the other straight out, and blood trickled from his hole. “Christ, Bobby. You are so freaking hot! Best fuck ever, huh? Nobody’s rod up your ass ever felt like this, did it?”
I knelt in front of him. Ran my fingertips over his smooth sweaty pecs. Touched his lips. His hands reached out and rested on my shoulders. Tried to push himself up but had no strength. Eyes wide and blank. I let his hands remain on my shoulders and laid mine on his. I wiggled his body, pressing slightly. There was pain. He sucked in air and made a sort of high pitched wheeze. “Where’s the rod, Bobby? In your lungs yet?” I pressed and he moved a little more, downward. Pressed harder and he dropped another few inches. His hands twitched at his side. His mouth still wide open and wheezing. And then, suddenly, a blast of blood gushed from his mouth, spewing onto my face and chest. It began to run from his nose. I sat back. He was almost motionless, just his head nodding slightly back and forth as blood dribbled from his face, and his hands still twitching at his side.
I stood, and pulled him up and off the rod. It popped out with a little sucking sound, like pulling your dick out of an ass after a great fuck. When he was free, I laid him on the floor and nuzzled up beside him. He was limp but still breathing. Warm and sexy, his dick still hard. I began to make love to him. Kissed his bloody lips. Fucked his ravaged asshole. And sucked him off. Yes, I actually made him cum, a thick bloody goo that splattered onto my face and mixed with his coagulating blood. Then I chewed on his dick until it, too, was a bloody mess. And fucked his mouth. All the time, Bobby wheezed, and his eyes stared blankly. He exhausted me, so I laid back and fell asleep with my arms around his warm, wheezing, twitching body. When I woke hours later, the boy was dead and cold. It was a good night.
