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    Journal of a Serial Killer

    “Call Me Caleb”. That’s how you’ll recognize me if we ever meet. It’s how I introduce myself. If you are young and pretty and built, I may ask you to come to my place. If you accept, you will die. You will die a hideously painful death. And then I will tell others about you in this journal. You will be immortalized.

    Look for me. I’m a hot young man. You’ll be attracted. And you won’t say no when I smile and say, “Hi. Call Me Caleb, and come home with me.”

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    My First Kill Was Nick

    This ever happen to you? Meet a really hot man, take him home, have several days of great sex, and then, when the ecstasy fades and the real world returns, want him out of the house? But he shows no inclination to leave? You ask yourself “How the fuck do I get rid of this guy?”

    I first saw him at the local gay bar. He was gorgeous. About 5’9”, 165, maybe 23 years old. He’d dance with his shirt off, showing a fantastic body. Hairless torso, very well built. I heard he worked construction. We never spoke in the bar but did make eye contact from time to time.

    I knew he lived with his folks a couple miles outside of town and always walked home from the bar. One night I pulled up next to him on the dark road and asked if he would like a ride home. “Sure.” Got in. Asked if he’d like to come to my place for a beer. “Sure.”

    We got to my place and he sat on the couch while I went to get a couple beers. I pulled a small vial from the cabinet. My ex had left it there, knock out drops he’d used on a kid to rape him. I poured it into one beer and gave it to my guest. We drank and exchanged small talk for a while. Then I moved next to him and put my arm around him.

    He looked into my eyes. “What’s your name?”
    “Call me Caleb”, I said. “What’s yours?”
    “Nick.”
    “Nicholas?”
    “Yeah,” he smiled shyly, “but only my mother calls me that.”
    “Nicky?”
    “Only a special friend can call me that.”
    “OK, Nick it is. Do you have a special friend?”
    “No, not now. Do you?”
    “I did. Jake. But he was killed last year in a car wreck.”
    “Oh, god. I’m sorry. How long were you together?”
    “Four years. But hey, finish your beer and I’ll get us two more.”

    He drained his can and I gave him another, no drugs in this one. I leaned over and stroked his chest and he did the same to me. We kissed. I looked at his face. It was so fucking beautiful. Perfect features, the most sensuous blue eyes I’d ever seen, and topped by a mop of curly brown hair, the kind you want to run your fingers through. He seemed so sweet, so sincere, so innocent.

    “I want you inside me,” I said softly. “I want your dick inside me.”
    “I’d like that, too. A lot.” He hesitated, looking up at with a seductive smile and limpid blue eyes. “Caleb?”
    “Yeah?”
    “You’re a really hot man and I think I could like you a lot, an awful lot. I want to please you. Anything you want to do. I want to give you everything.”
    I smiled back and whispered “Nick, we’ll have the greatest night ever.”

    I dropped to my knees in front of him, slipped my hands under his tee shirt, and began to rub his tits. He moaned. I pinched a bit and a longer moan told me he liked it. I sensed the drug might be taking effect as his head fell back. I loosened his belt and slid his pants down so I could massage his cock. It was hard. I took it into my mouth, but he didn’t react in any way. He seemed to be out but, to be sure, I took some of his pubic hair in my teeth and ripped it out. No reaction. He was mine.

    I pulled him off the couch and onto the floor, face down. I wrapped short chains around each wrist and padlocked them together behind his back. A longer chain went across his chest, under his arm pits and was padlocked in back. Two more short pieces padlocked around each ankle, but not attached together. Then I dragged him by his feet, down the hall, through the work shop, and into the playroom.

    Jake and I built the room a few years ago. There were several pulleys hanging from the 10-foot ceiling, attached to long ropes, and many cleats and eye bolts on the wall. Jake and I were into heavy bondage and spent many hours here, using, abusing and enjoying each other.

    I pulled down a block and tackle, hooked it to the back of the chain around Nick’s chest, and hoisted him to a position where his feet were just off the floor. I tore his tee shirt off, revealing the gorgeous torso I had seen in the bar. Not a hair on it, except for a few below the belly button. When I pulled his pants down, I discovered a perfect bubble butt. Solid, round, and virtually hairless. He had always worn loose jeans so this was a truly welcome surprise. I went to get my clippers and razor. I like totally smooth men, so I wanted to shave his crotch, butt and legs. I cut his jeans off with scissors and soon he was perfectly smooth from neck to toe. I would have liked to shave his arm pits but with his arms chained behind him, that was impossible now. I love to suck on sweaty, hairless pits.

    I got a beer and stood back to admire him, dangling in front of me, the chain tight across his chest. I could imagine him as a model for Michelangelo’s David. A strong youthful physique, natural, not gym-created. The full head of hair topped a smooth-as-marble body. Beautiful face. Michelangelo began with a mass of marble and lovingly sculpted his ideal beauty. I had my ideal beauty hanging before me and was about to reverse the process.

    How did I get here? Probably a lot of stuff in my brain going back many years. But I remember a day when it really came together and became an obsession. I was in the city and saw three guys, rent boys I think, arguing across the street. One of them suddenly hauled off and smashed another in the face, sending him backwards, through and over a bunch of newspaper dispensers. He landed hard on his back and let out a grunt. The other guy picked up a dispenser and threw it down on his chest. He lay silent for a few seconds, then began to groan, a long deep groan of pain. It was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. It went on and on. The other two guys watched impassively. There was nobody else around but me and I just stood there, totally transfixed, totally hard. Slowly the guy rolled over and struggled to his feet. His nose looked like it was broken as blood gushed on to his white tee shirt. He bent over, grabbed his ribs, and staggered in my direction, each step eliciting a short groan. “Huh…huh…huh…huh” and an occasional long “Huuuuuuuuuuuuh”. As he passed, he looked at me. And I just grinned.

    Ever since, I’ve wanted to smash a guy’s face in, or kick in his teeth, and now was the time. I looked at Nick, suspended, helpless. I walked around him, touching, caressing and admiring the beauty of the man. I stood in front of him, grinding my fist into my palm, ready to fulfill my long-time fantasy. But I hesitated. I couldn’t do it. I remembered the beautiful smile and limpid blue eyes that had gazed to trustingly at me. “Nick, you offered me everything but, no, I can’t accept. I just can’t smash your face. I’ll take your body, but leave you your beauty.”

    I leaned in and kissed his lips. Then his closed eyelids. Then, in a frenzy of love, my mouth and tongue caressed his entire body. I needed to experience this perfect man one final time.

    I sighed, stepped back, and smashed my fist into his gut. Air exploded from his mouth. With that blow, I felt a huge release from deep inside me, something that had been pent up for years. It felt so good! Sexual! Exhilarating! Wearing heavy construction gloves, I continued punching him in the ribs, and then his butt, and shoulders. I picked up my stick, like a walking stick but shorter, very solid, and with a sharp point on the end. I swung it hard into his left side, into his ribs. Then I brought it down hard on his shoulder, and one of his kneecaps. I grabbed a bamboo switch and wacked at the back of his thighs and calves. Welts formed immediately. I knelt and grabbed his nuts with one hand and punched them with the other, and then, for good measure, bit hard into them. I stopped suddenly. Had to, because I was getting too turned on. Take it easy, Caleb, we have nothing but time. I poked his belly with the sharp point on the stick, pushing him out to swing back and forth, like a punching bag. Still unconscious, Nick showed no reaction to any of this. When he came to, though, I wanted the pain to be there.

    What next? I went to get the hypo needle. Before Viagra pills, there was the injection method, which you can still get on the internet. Shoot this liquid into the base of your cock and you get a hard-on. Would it work if a guy’s unconscious? Yes! Slowly his dick grew, rock hard. Soft, it had been a pretty thing, handing down, about five inches. Now it was seven inches straight out from the smooth, hairless crotch. I knelt and began to suck on it. What a trip! Hard cock. Unconscious man. I held his butt with both hands and worked it in and out, scraping the shaft with my teeth, a little at first, then harder and deeper. Soon I tasted a bit of blood. I began to bite down, hard. Both from the sides, and straight on. My teeth clamped onto the cock head, working it back and forth. Chewing, biting, scraping. When I finally stopped, it was still hard, but very raw—a red sticky raw. And I had my first taste of blood. It tasted good.

    I hooked his wrists, still chained behind his back, to another pully, and slowly pulled on the ropes, raising his wrists higher and higher. The tension on his shoulders grew as the arms began to support more of his weight. I think in the Inquisition, this form of torture was called strappado. Not knowing how much the shoulders could take before popping out of the sockets, I stopped pulling. Still, most of his weight was on his arms, causing extreme pressure on his shoulders. I tied him off and let him hang about six feet up. His arms kept his upper torso almost parallel to the floor, while the rest of him hung down. I touched his bruises and welts, licked his bloody cock. Then I gagged and blindfolded him, and left him there.

    I came back to the playroom a couple hours later. I’d changed to a white shirt and white jeans because I remembered how sexy red splatters on white is. And, of course, my steel-toe construction boots. I brought some equipment with me: two saw horses, a plank, a couple metal chairs, pliers, push pins, and a few other odds and ends I’d found in the kitchen or the workshop. Like the mallet, used to tenderize meat. I grinned. How appropriate. It’s amazing how many interesting playthings we have in our houses. No need to buy expensive stuff from a leather toy store.

    Nick was groaning now. The drug had worn off. I knew that morphine could ease the pain but I didn’t have any. But I did have a lot of Valium, which I crushed and dissolved in water. I’ll shoot him up for as long as it, or he, lasts, hoping it might help keep him going.

    I lowered Nick down, loosening all tension on his arms. Again, he dangled in front of me, now hanging by the chain around his chest, toes just touching the floor. I removed the blindfold. He blinked a bit in the bright light. Then he saw me and his eyes brightened briefly with recognition. But the pain and immobility quickly brought a look of confusion and uncertainty. I smiled and said softly, “Hey, Nick”. I moved closer and tapped his ribs, which brought a short wince of pain. Still smiling, I winked and reached for his right nipple. His eyes followed my hand as I pulled on the nipple and, with a pair of sharp scissors in the other hand, very quickly cut it off. Another gasp of pain and a sudden look of fear in his eyes. I held the nipple in front of his eyes and slipped it into my mouth. I began to chew, slowly. My face was inches from his. His eyes showed real terror now and he began to struggle, making noises that surely meant “let me go”. I swallowed, then whispered “I want you inside me, Nick”. I reached down and cupped his still-hard, blood-crusted cock in my hand. “I want your dick inside me.” At that moment he understood everything.

    There was a wild look in his eyes for a moment and then he closed them tight and began to sob, huge wrenching sobs, his body jerking, tears flowing. I pulled Nick close and held him tightly for a long time, saying nothing. I wondered briefly what might be going through his mind just then, when he realized he was about to die painfully. I didn’t think about that for too long because I was thinking about myself and the overwhelming emotion of holding this smooth, naked, sobbing man in my arms, and my swollen dick pressed hard against his. When, finally, his sobs subsided, I stepped back. My white shirt was stained red and the wound was still bleeding. So I went into the shop, got a soldering gun, plugged it in, and when it got hot, held it against the wound. There was a shriek of pain and a sizzling sound as I rubbed it against his chest. Finally, the bleeding stopped. Nick was jerking, so I filled the hypo with Valium solution and shot it into a vein on his arm. Quickly, his body relaxed, the sobs and jerks stopped, his eyes glazed. Me? I was nauseated by the smell of burnt flesh but in total ecstasy over what I had just done with his nipple. A cannibal! I just became a cannibal!

    As I stood admiring my gorgeous friend, I still felt an overwhelming desire to smash his face. But I had promised him I wouldn’t. Suddenly I got an idea. I’d create an illusion. I searched for the hypo and finally found it on the floor. Oh, well, a dirty needle isn’t going to hurt Nick. I got an empty bottle and then pushed the needle point into a vein. I pulled the plunger out and blood streamed into the bottle. When it was filled, I removed the needle from his arm to stop the flow. I sniffed the warm blood. Ha! If I drink this, I’d be a vampire, too. But, yuck, no way! I removed the gag and poured the blood into Nick’s hair, just above his forehead. I watched with fascination as it streamed down onto his face, into his eyes, past the nose, onto his lips, and then dripped off his chin onto his chest, his belly, his cock, and down his legs. Oh, good god! He was so fucking sexy. I leaned forward and kissed his bloody lips. They tasted sweet. “Nick, we did it. I’ve got your bloody face but you still have your beauty!”

    I hoisted him up again by the chest chain, about eight feet and set a couple saw horses below him, at right angles to each other and set two metal chairs next to them. I loosened the rope and he plunged straight down. One heel caught a saw horse, his body twisted to the right. His knee cracked hard on the other horse, the side of his head hit the metal chair, and he crashed to the floor, landing on his back, wrists still bound behind him. “Sweet Jesus, Nick! Awesome landing!” Beautiful!?”

    At that instant, I realized Nick could fulfill another of my fantasies. You see, when I was a kid, my father took the family on Sunday drives, out in the country. Long and boring drives. Gazing out the car window, I would imagine how it might be like to drop a naked guy out of a tree, to hang him by one foot from a high branch, to toss him into a bramble patch, to roll him down a steep, rocky hill, or even off a cliff. With a fertile imagination and teen-age hormones, I could look at any natural feature—a ravine, cliff, hill, creek, tree, cactus, prickly bush, boulder, rocky path, hot sandy desert—and create in my mind a sexual scenario, always involving doing nasty things to a hot naked guy. It made those Sunday drives bearable. Obviously, I couldn’t take Nick outside now, but maybe we could simulate some of that stuff right here. So, we would spend a lot of time hoisting and dropping, his body tied in various configurations and positions, falling onto many different objects. This was as huge a turn-on for me as any beating I could give him. Oh, that’s not to say we didn’t do a lot of beating, cutting and mutilation, but the drops were great fun. I had to be careful, though, not to do anything that might break his neck or mess up his face.

    Again, I hoisted him and let him drop. This time his legs slipped off to either side of the sawhorse and he landed smack on this crotch, letting out a grunt. He teetered momentarily and then fell backwards off the end of the sawhorse, his back landing square on the upturned leg of one of the chairs. His body stopped right there, splayed on the chair leg, his head leaning back. He began to moan, a long, low moan that reminded me of the guy on the street. So I picked up the other chair and swung it down on his chest, as if it were a newspaper dispenser. I stomped his belly, then kicked him of the chair, and he landed smack on his face. The floor was covered with thick moving blankets, which cushioned the falls a bit, but the sawhorse and chairs were not soft landings.

    Up he went again. I tied his feet up behind his back and let him drop. I’d moved all the equipment away so he landed hard on his knees, actually bounced, and then pitched forward. “Dude, you got style!” Up again, this time in a horizontal position. A sawhorse placed just right and Nick came down belly first across that horse. As he remained lying across the horse, his ass in the air, I knelt to suck his hole and lick the welts on his tight bubble butt.

    I sat against the wall and pulled Nick to me, wrapping his warm naked body in my arms. His head leaned back, resting on my shoulder, his cheek against mine. He was a bit battered and bloodied, and in deep pain. Yet, as I held him, I was still aware of his beauty. The body was muscular, lean, strong. I marveled at those hard muscles—biceps, pecs, abs—they felt so good in my arms. The body was the reason I brought him home, not his personality, although he had revealed himself to be a very sweet man. My goal was to break the body—destroy it, really—to attain a sexual thrill, yet I felt a little sad that this nice young man should suffer so. He remained in my arms for a long time, his bloody cheek resting on mine, moaning softly now, unaware of the deep love I felt for him and the great pleasure he was giving me. I rubbed my hands over his chest, against the charred remains of the right nipple, and then the clean, clear area of his left pectoral. I fingered his remaining nipple. So firm. So sexy.

    I moved Nick back onto the floor and slid on top of him. I stared at the nipple for a while and then began to chew. Chewing tit has always been one of my favorite things, but tonight I could go further than ever before. I finally bit it off and swallowed. Ahh! I sucked up his sweet blood and moved my mouth on to the hard, smooth pectoral muscle. I bit and bit, breaking the skin, which gave me even more to get my teeth into. I must have gnawed for twenty minutes, by which time the whole left side of his chest was red and raw. I grabbed a corncob holder, you know, one of those two-pronged things you stick in the ends of a cob to hold it while eating? Those two prongs are sharp, and I sat on Nick’s belly and pressed it into the pec muscle. Over and over, I jammed it in and pulled it out. Then I began to scrape his chest. Scraping, and piercing, until the left side of his chest was a red oozing mass. I leaned down and chewed and licked and sucked. My own face was now smeared with his blood.

    I stood up, put my cleated boot on the mess, and, with most of my weight pressing down, ground my heel into it, back and forth, back and forth. Then I stood on his belly, my boot making a bloody footprint, and ground my boot into his gut. Stomped his gut once, just to hear the wind burst from his mouth. I turned and kicked his ribs as hard as I could, and then stepped over him and kicked the other side just as hard. Because I had stomped the breath out of him, Nick couldn’t grunt or groan when the steel toes smashed into his ribs. I sat in the chair to rest and looked down at him, admiring our work. Blood and bruises. That body was a little less gorgeous now.

    Nick and I played for over two days. When I needed to rest, I usually hoisted him and let him hang…by his arms, his wrists, feet, or by a chain around his waist. Sometimes I left him on the floor. The gag stayed off. I figured he couldn’t make too much noise, not in his condition. And I wanted to hear clearly every sound he made. With no food, no water, and just an occasional wet rag to suck on, he got weak. I tried not to cause too much blood loss, figuring he’d stay alive that much longer. I kept injecting the Valium, not knowing whether it was doing him any good or not. Sometimes he seemed to recognize me, but most of the time he just had a glazed look. But, by god, I protected his face, his beauty, no matter what else I did to the rest of him.

    Because it all runs together in my memory, I can’t possibly describe everything we did together. And we certainly didn’t do everything I would have liked to. It would have been impossible for any man, even Nick, to fulfill all my desires and fantasies in one session. I had to consider the possible result of any action. It was important to control the pace, and not have it end prematurely. I wanted the ending to have some punch. To be meaningful. Memorable. Satisfying.

    I hung Nick by his wrists behind his back several times. Sometimes just leaving him up there, or while whacking his ass and legs with my stick, or in order to drop him on something. I also hung him by his waist, just the right height so I could suck his asshole, or bite his dick. Finally, as he lay face down on the floor, I sat on his back and took the chains off his wrists. I lifted his left arm and brought it up behind him, twisting it to keep it straight. Slowly I pushed it up toward the back of his head until it wouldn’t move any further. I leaned forward, put all my weight on it and then used my legs to drive me forward, pushing, pressing the arm, until, all at once, I heard a pop, the arm snapped out of the shoulder socket, and I fell forward on the arm. Nick shrieked, a high-pitched shriek. I shoved one of my bloody gloves into his mouth. “Damn it, Nick. Don’t be such a sissy.” I rolled off him. The arm was lying over his head, where it couldn’t or shouldn’t be. Weird. I nudged it. It flopped off to the side. He continued with the muted screeching as I played with his arm. “Nick, this is pissing me off. I thought I brought home a man, not a pansy. Stop the sissy whining.” With that, I turned his head to the side and brought the mallet down hard on his ear. The screeching stopped. “OK, that’s better.”

    I took his wrist and began to move the arm in every direction. No resistance, just a slight grinding sound coming from near the socket. Flopping everywhere. Cool! Nothing but ligaments and skin kept it in place. Finally, I stopped playing with it, turned him onto his back and stretched the arm out to his side. I slid a block of wood under the elbow and stood on his arm, rocking and bouncing until the elbow snapped. Now both the shoulder and the elbow flopped. And flapped. Wow! This was fantastic! Totally awesome! I worked the arm and elbow into several weird positions as Nick lay motionless, oblivious to the pleasure he was giving me.

    A little later, I hoisted him up a little so his ass was off the floor but the legs stretched out in front of him. I slid under him so my face came up by his dick. I sucked and chewed for a while and then reached out for the rope, and lowered him right down on my face. I stayed, his balls on my forehead, my nose up his asshole, and my tongue licking between his butt cheeks. In time, I slithered out from under him and picked up the mallet. I pounded his other shoulder and elbow, over and over and over again until they cracked too, but differently than the first arm. Nick was feeling the pain again, so I laid him on his back for a rest break. I cuddled up to him, my arm over his belly. I just wanted to be close, to feel his pain. His guttural sounds and his convulsions created one of my longest orgasms yet. Then he passed out again. I shot him some more Valium, but it was clear he was getting weaker.

    I hoisted Nick again by the chain around his chest, and stretched his legs out to the side. I attached the ankle chains to hooks on opposite walls, winched them a tight as they could possibly be, and let loose the chain around his torso. His body pivoted downward, twisting the hip joints, and hung with his head just above the floor, his broken arms flopping grotesquely to the side. Nick’s legs were so tightly winched that they remained perfectly horizontal in spite of the weight of his body. And there, even with my chest, was his asshole, open, exposed, with his cock and balls hanging just below. What to do? There must be something. I went to the work shop and found a rasp, a round file with large and very sharp teeth. I began to rub the file over Nick’s hole. The hole and the crack quickly became rough and red as the file tore into his skin. God, this is beautiful! I didn’t want to go inside and cause internal bleeding, so I just kept working it until I had filed a channel about a half inch deep. Blood oozed. I got so turned on, I jammed my face into this oozing mess, biting, licking, sucking, tasting bits of manflesh, smelling sweet blood and a little shit. Then I picked up the bamboo switch, and began to smack his exposed legs. I whaled those legs from ankle to asshole, over and over, until there was hardly a bit of skin that wasn’t split, welted or bleeding.

    Exhausted, I dropped to the floor and sat where Nick’s head dangled. As I rested, I put my boot in his face and gently pushed him back and forth. “Nick? It’s time now. You said you’d like it a lot and you’ve waited so patiently. I realize I’ve been selfish, doing my thing, ignoring your desires. So now, let’s do this for you. You’re ready, I know you are, and you want it, a lot. I’m your special friend now, aren’t I, Nicky. Now it’s my turn to give you pleasure.”

    I stood up and looked at what was before me. His cock hung loosely, rigid and pointing downward towards his head. The nuts, in their large sac, also hung loose. I knelt and, with the scissors, cut a hole in the sac. Reaching in with a finger, I grabbed one nut and pulled it out. Then the other. Still attached to their cords. I put one into my mouth and sucked on it. My heart beat must have doubled! Then I bit down on it, flattening it between my molars. Nick’s body convulsed sharply, jerking wildly against the chains on his ankles. I cut the cord and swallowed. I cut the other one loose, and dangled it into his face, but he was too out to notice. Swallowed that one, too. There wasn’t much blood flowing from his sac but I knew there’d be a lot after what I did next.

    I got some equipment ready and stepped up to him again. His cock beckoned. I took a knife and sliced it off at the base. Blood spurted out, splattering my face and going every which way. I managed to get some into the jar and then lit the acetylene torch and fired it at his crotch. Again, Nick’s body convulsed violently, but I kept the fire going until the whole crotch was cauterized. The smell was horrible, his crotch a black, charred void. I loosened his ankles and he dropped to the floor, landing on his head, then rolling onto his back. He was still passed out as I sat on his belly and laid the severed cock, now flaccid, on his chest, which served nicely as a cutting board. I cut it into three pieces, and then put the cock head into my mouth and began to chew. The sensation was astounding! I was literally eating cock! A little fantasy that had been with me since puberty. But reality is sometimes different. It was too tough to chew up. I finally gave up and just swallowed the piece whole. Washed it down with a swig of blood from the jar. Same for the other two pieces. Shit. It hadn’t been anywhere near the turn-on I’d expected. Still, it meant something, because it was the only thing Nick and I had agreed on when we met. We both wanted his dick inside me.

    I looked at his back. Muscular, smooth, unmarked. Having kept his arms chained behind him meant I couldn’t get at his back. But it was open to me now. I used the stick, scraping the sharp point, and whacking it a few times. But I stopped, wanting to try something new. From the shop, I got a rusty wire brush, and began to rub it over his back. Red marks, at first. Then oozing blood. For the longest time, I worked that brush on his back. His once smooth back became a bloody mess. Deep into the muscle, I scraped. Skin and flesh peeled away. Back and forth I worked. No other part of Nick’s gorgeous body became as hot, red, sticky, oozing, or pulpy. When I took the switch to it, every swing caused blood to splatter high into the air. Like a July 4th fireworks display, with all red fireworks!


    I don’t know when Nick died. Could have been anytime during those last frenzied hours. Looking back, I’m amazed he lasted as long as he did. Must have had a strong will to live. Or maybe he subconsciously wanted to give me as much pleasure as possible. And besides, he was young, healthy and in great shape. Whatever the reason, his stamina gave us that much more time together. But when it became obvious he was getting weaker and couldn’t last much longer, I decided the hell with it, forget about blood loss, just have a blast! I went at him full tilt. I kicked and stomped, bit and chewed, hoisted and dropped, cut, sliced, poked and pierced. Eventually, I passed out on the floor, exhausted by my frenzy and spent from my passion.

    When I woke, I looked at Nick, face down on the soggy floor, his arms splayed out to the side. Every inch of him was deep purple or covered with sticky or crusted blood. I knelt over him and, starting at his feet, caressed him lovingly, running my hands across the entire body. One ankle was busted. His calves and thighs a mass of welts. The stunning bubble butt no more. The right cheek was a crisscross of knife slices, the left one had nails sticking up. (Jeez, how did that happen?) His muscular back had been scraped deep by the wire brush. His neck had only a few marks, but the hair on the back of his head was matted with blood. I had some recollection of hitting it with the mallet but didn’t want to look too closely.

    I flipped him over, his body rolling over an arm that stayed in place, so his hand stuck out grotesquely on the wrong side. His sides were a mass of black and blue and red. His feet were missing three toes, which I vaguely remember biting off. His shins weren’t broken but had taken a lot of hits with the stick. One kneecap was smashed to smithereens by my mallet. The thighs a purple mass of bruises. His crotch was charred, flat, nothing. Not too much damage to the lower belly except for a hole made when I rammed my pointed stick into his asshole and kept pushing until it poked through the belly. Many of his ribs were broken, a couple sticking through the skin. The chest, pure pulp. A bicep sliced to the bone. A few bite marks on his throat.

    But his face looked OK. I got some wet cloths and wiped the blood off. Yes! It looked just as it had that first night. A small cut on the chin from hitting a chair and a scratch above one eye. Otherwise, still beautiful. Naked now except for my boots, I lay down on top of the broken body, my dick rock hard, and stared lovingly into his face. His eyes were open but not staring blankly. They still had softness and seemed to gaze right into mine. He seemed so serene.

    “Oh, Nicky. I can call you Nicky, can’t I, now that we’ve become special friends? Thank you, my sweet man. You did it. Your dick is inside me. You gave me everything.”

    Or had he? Something was still missing. In spite of all we had done together, it didn’t seem complete. I kept staring into his eyes. What’s missing? I moved closer and whispered:

    “Nicky, I think you know what’s missing. I was selfish. I didn’t listen to what you wanted, what you really wanted. You said ‘I want to give you everything’ but I wouldn’t take it. And that was wrong. So let’s go on a little longer and finish this. It’s what you want. And what I deserve. After all, I’m your special friend, aren’t I?” I looked deep into his eyes and knew. “Oh, yes. Thanks, Nicky. I knew you’d understand. You are so sweet and I love you so much”

    I stroked his angelic face, kissed his eyes, and then gouged them both out. Got up and smashed my boot down on his mouth, once, twice. A cracking sound. I stomped again and this time the jaw moved way off to one side. I knelt over his chest, wiggled the broken jaw from side to side, and shoved my hand into his mouth to feel the broken teeth in his throat. Dug my fingers deep into the eye sockets and then smashed his nose with my fist, again and again, flattening it. Grabbed his hair and pulled his broken face into my crotch, banging it against my hard cock, not caring that his broken teeth cut into my shaft. “Oh, Nicky, Nicky! You did it! You wanted to give me everything and now you have! You gave me your body and your beauty! Oh, my angel! My beautiful man! My special friend! Ah! Ah! Thank you, Nicky! Thank you! Thank you! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Then I exploded down his throat. The longest and most incredible fucking orgasm of my life. Absolutely spent, I dropped his head and fell back.

    I stood up and looked around. My face, hair, and mustache matted with dried blood. My entire naked body was coated with sticky or crusted blood. The room was a mess. Chains and other equipment strewn about. Blood splattered walls. A red squishy floor. And there was Nick, or the thing that had been Nick. It seemed a dream. I had brought a beautiful man home and had two days of ecstatic sex. Now back to reality. I let out a deep sigh. How the fuck do I get rid of this guy?
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  3. #3
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    One Week Later

    After I killed Nick, I had nightmares. He was a sweet man and I had taken his life. For no reason. He had done nothing to deserve the torture and mutilation I had forced him to endure. His family and friends had lost him forever. Why did I do this cruel thing?

    After a few days, the nightmares evolved into erotic dreams. My sheets became drenched in gallons of thick cum. I dreamed of the beauty of Nick’s mangled and bloody body. New images of beautiful naked men enduring hideous tortures inundated my sleep, and engulfed my waking hours. Something was taking over my life. Something wonderful. Arousing. Sensual.

    A week later, I knew I had to kill again to satisfy this beast within me. I must hunt new prey. Beast must find Beauty and destroy it.
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  4. #4
    Forum Elite anonboy's Avatar
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    amazing story. very well done!

  5. #5
    Forum Regular Destroymykok's Avatar
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    Good piece of writing. I’m hooked
    Reel me in

  6. #6
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    A Fist in a Face

    Why is punching a guy so satisfying? I think it’s some sort of primal urge in men. Why else do guys fight so much? Or join fight clubs? Or film themselves gut punching on YouTube? I don’t think I’m all that unusual in the enjoyment of pummeling a dude, although I may take it to more extremes than others do. It’s really just a guy thing.

    Punching Jason was especially satisfying. He was a really gorgeous dude, but way too full of himself and disdainful of everyone. When he came on to me, in a demeaning way, I was like, here’s my chance to rid the world of a classic asshole.

    He ended up on his knees, wrists tied behind him to his ankles, and propped up so he couldn’t fall over. I ran a small chain into his mouth and fastened it tightly behind his head. “Jason, you’re an arrogant shit”, I whispered, “and I’m going to do what a lot of guys wish they could.” I hit upward on his chin with my palm a few times so his teeth could grind on the chain. Then I put on boxing gloves, ground a thumb into his eye, and began to punch his face. Lightly at first, just to make him feel it. Moving all around him, I hit his eyes, ears, jaw, top and back of his head. From every direction. Swelling began to occur on his face, especially around the eyes. Then purple bruising. Finally, I punched upwards on his chin so his teeth started to break against the chain.

    After ten minutes my arms were so tired I had to stop. Amazing how much damage I’d done in that short time. He looked worse than a Rocky movie. Both eyes swollen shut. Blood dripping from his mouth, nose, and above one eye. He was still trying to say something through his broken teeth, maybe pleading, maybe being arrogant, but I couldn’t understand him and didn’t really care. I took a pin and poked at his swollen face. A thin red liquid oozed out of the bruised, swollen mess. Dripped down his face. I pressed my finger, forcing out even more of the liquid. Cool! I licked it. Way cooler!

    I sat in front of Jason for a while. Caressed his face. It felt smooth and warm. I poked with the pin some more, lapped up the liquid. I pressed on the swollen face. It was pulpy, soft, pliable. I took the chain out of his mouth. Sure enough, some of his teeth were broken. With a wooden billy club, I whacked at his mouth, ripping his lips against broken teeth. Then more teeth broke. He tried to talk but nothing came out but strange gurgling sounds, along with some bloody spit and teeth that splattered my face and chest. Then I noticed some clear liquid coming through the slits of his swollen eyes. I think he was crying. Nice touch, Jason.

    I had a sharp pointed stick I poked at his chest and belly. Broke the skin. He bled and I licked. His groans increased. He wasn’t trying to be a big man anymore and not admit to feeling pain. He was really hurting now. I poked harder, aiming the point at his nipples. They got really bloody. With the pointed stick, I scraped his swollen face and opened big gashes. Jason was crying and yelling but it was a gurgling yell, not a manly deep scream. I watched him for a while as he knelt, immobile, blood streaming from his face and chest, red slobber dribbling from his mouth, bloody snot from his nose. I sucked it all up.

    I pushed and he fell backwards. His head and shoulders were on the floor. His wrists were still tied to his ankles, so his knees and butt were in the air. I knelt over his chest and looked down at his bloody face, eyes still swollen shut. I put the point to his eye and pushed, deep into his eye. Suddenly the screams intensified. His head was jerking all around but I managed to get the point to the other eye and jam it in, too. Blood was now pouring from both eyes, or sockets. His shrieks moved from high pitched to low and back up again. All his energy went into those screams. Watching and listening to his pain was the most sensual part of our session. A man I disliked was suffering and I was enjoying his pain. So sweet. I let him writhe and make his noises for about fifteen minutes, even taking time to drink a beer. Then I got down on my hands and knees and sucked up the blood from face, body and floor.

    Maybe my tongue had a soothing effect, because Jason calmed down a little. Not sure why. I stood, grabbed a hammer, put the pointed stick to his chest, and hammered it into his heart. Two blows and done. More noise. More squirming. Then the quiet that comes with Death. A well-deserved death. Which I found to be very satisfying and highly erotic.
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  7. #7
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    Worship of Beauty and Blood

    Nick was the first and the best. I think we fell in love that night and I’m certain we both wanted the same scene. After all, he looked into my eyes and said, so sweetly, “I want to please you. Anything you want to do. I want to give you everything.” It was the greatest sex I ever had and nobody else has come close. Oh, sure, the others have been good, real good, but just not the same, not as totally satisfying. I guess what they say is true. The first time is the best, whether it’s the first man you kiss or the first man you kill.

    The fantasies started when I was about six and culminated two years ago when I was 23. I met Nick with the intention of killing him but until I actually drugged him, I still wasn’t sure I could do it. But I did, and in two days of pure ecstasy, I turned that beautiful hunk of masculinity into a bloody butchered carcass. And I knew I would do it again.

    There have been about a dozen guys since Nick. My adolescent mind had developed so many fantasies that I still haven’t fulfilled them all. And there are always new ones popping into my mind. But like I said, it’s not the same. If Nick was pure sexual ecstasy, the others have been more like masturbation, a great release but little more.

    I’m 25, 6’1, 185, fortunate in my genes, in that I’m extremely good looking and have a near-perfect body. Classic proportions and absolutely smooth. No tattoos or facial hair, except a mustache. Quiet, good-humored and totally masculine. No affectations. Few know me. I work a consulting business out of my house, which is in an isolated area outside of town. My family lives a couple hundred miles away.

    I can usually get any man I want, but don’t go out looking much, and never use the web. I observe, and when I see a dude I like, I don’t try to meet him right away. I let him see me in some situation where I’m in a muscle tee, a tank top, or shirtless. I want him to want me. Then I wait for just the right moment to meet him, when nobody will see us together. Don’t engage in much conversation. Don’t try to learn much about him, or let him know me. It’s like “Call me Caleb. Want to come home?” There aren’t many guys out there who meet my standards. But I’m patient. I’ll wait for the perfect man. And when I get him, our time together is unforgettable.

    Once I get them home, the routine is pretty much the same. Drug their drink, do a little kissing and touching until the drug knocks them out, and then drag them to the playroom. Strip the dude naked, shoot a tube of fast-setting construction adhesive up his ass to, you know, keep any shit from happening, hang him by the wrists just off the floor, and then shave him smooth from the neck down. I like guys that look like me, handsome, smooth-shaven face, full head of hair, no tattoos, just smooth white skin on a classically muscular body. Which means there usually isn’t a lot to shave off except around the crotch, pits and legs. I inject liquid Viagra into the base of the cock to get it rock-hard, and then wrap him in my arms for a long time, holding him tight, caressing his smooth muscles with my hands and my mouth. It’s almost a spiritual experience, worship his masculinity, his final moments of masculine beauty.

    I have a fully equipped playroom that Jake and I built. We loved doing all sorts of heavy stuff to each other in this room, alternating being top and bottom. I wonder sometimes if I’d have gotten into killing guys if Jake hadn’t died in that traffic accident. Who knows? Maybe we’d have taken that path together. After all, it was Jake who first got the drug to date rape some kid he brought home.

    The ritual of destruction begins as they hand suspended. My first move is a hard punch into his relaxed belly. Punching a naked man was one of my earliest fantasies, and is still one of my greatest thrills. In fact, it’s a huge release of pent-up sexual desire that pulls me into this weird scene. A few more punches into the gut, ribs, and kidneys, and possibly a Billy club to the ribcage. Often, I’ll also suck his hard dick, scraping the shaft with my teeth, biting and chewing on the head. First blood flows down my throat. Then, before he comes off the drug, I arrange him into whatever position I’ve chosen to start the action.

    At first, inflicting pain wasn’t my intention. I was more interested in the act itself: the destruction of a beautiful male body, the broken limbs, the blood. Ah yes, the blood. I’m still amazed at how much a man has inside him. Nothing like the first warm splatter onto my face. Doesn’t take long into a session before I’m covered with it. Kinda like it. Love it, in fact. Crave its taste. Feel it spray into my face, mat my hair, dry crusty in my moustache. Guess I’m a little kinky.

    Too bad Nick couldn’t have been my Prometheus, his perfect body regenerating itself after each session, so I would have my ideal man to destroy again and again. That way only Nick, and no other man, would suffer. With him, though, I tried very hard to prevent him from feeling excessive pain. Didn’t have morphine that night but kept injecting liquid Valium into him to help him cope. Now, I use a lot of morphine to both ease the pain and keep them quieter and motionless. I really get off on a deep masculine grunt or long low moans and groans. Screaming, screeching or whimpering are not manly sounds. On the other hand, now I want him to feel pain. Mixing pain with beauty arouses me. I’m changing, and change is good for the soul.

    So, that’s where I am. I like where I am. If I bring a beautiful man home, I’m happy. If I destroy his beauty, I’m joyful. If he suffers horribly, I’m ecstatic. His Hell is my Paradise. I worship the God of Blood and Gore. I am His instrument. “Call me Caleb, and come home with me.”
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  8. #8
    Forum Elite stustustugoo's Avatar
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    very well done! BRAVO BRAVISSIMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    my cock exists for male feet/soles!!!

  9. #9
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    Drop Dead, Gorgeous.

    I was jogging in the hills and saw a man coming in my direction. Early twenties, shirtless, extremely well built and drop dead gorgeous. I waved him over and asked if I could get a sip of water. As he reached for his bottle, I stabbed him in the heart. He didn’t make a sound as he dropped to his knees with a startled look on his face. Yeah, that face. So fucking beautiful. I slashed the face, over and over, until it was nothing more than bloody pulp. He died without a peep. I tossed his body into a deep ravine just off the trail. Food for night critters. Picked up his water bottle and resumed my run, totally refreshed. Took less than five minutes.
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  10. #10
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    Drop Dead, Gorgeous. Epilogue.

    Now I’m home, thinking about that jogger. I had never killed a guy I hadn’t fucked. No sex. Not even a hard-on. Just stab, stab, dump, and go. Yet, I felt exhilarated as I jogged home. I feel exhilarated now, thinking about it. In fact, now I got a raging hard-on. I’m wrapping twine around my hard dick and yanking on it. Beating on it with a ruler. Thinking about ripping the guy’s face apart. I’m cuming, cuming, cuming! But nothing spurts because I tied off the end of my cock. I’m shooting cum from my nuts into my dick but its got nowhere to go. Oh, God, it hurts but feels so good! I keep whacking with the ruler. I keep cuming inside my dick and it keeps hurting. Jesus! Jesus! Now my dick is bleeding and I’m still cuming! I drop to my knees, my body lurching with pain and ecstasy, my teeth clamped on my dusty boot. I think of Jake and how he would have used his boots to stomp on me. I keep cumming. Writhing on the floor! “Kick me, Jake!! PLEASE!!” I untie the twine, letting the dammed up cum blast onto the floor! My agony and ecstasy continues for, like forever it seems, until I finally wind down. I’m sobbing hysterically on the floor with my mouth chewing the bottom of the boot, remembering Jake, remembering pain, and wanting both so much!
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  11. #11
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    Drop Dead, Gorgeous. Epilogue (2).

    What the FUCK just happened? Why am I groveling on the floor, crying like a sissy faggot? I don’t cry. I don’t grovel. I am a man. I am masculine. I am Caleb. I kill sissy faggots with my hands. I destroy pretty boy faggots. Yes, I miss Jake, and I miss some of the stuff he used to do to me. But he’s dead and nobody will ever do that shit to me again. Nobody will ever inflict pain on me again. I will go out tonight and find a sissy fag and grab his throat and squeeze and watch his eyes pop and his face turn blue and his tongue pop out as I choke the faggot life out of him. I’ll drop him into the gutter where he belongs and jerk off onto his limp dead body. That’s a man. That’s me. That’s Caleb.
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  12. #12
    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    Pole Dancer.

    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.
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

  13. #13
    Forum Elite stustustugoo's Avatar
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    so beautiful, so incredible, so well written, so dark, so erotic, salivating and sexy!
    my cock exists for male feet/soles!!!

  14. #14
    Forum Elite gibing's Avatar
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    Thanks for the stories

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    Forum Elite callmecaleb's Avatar
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    Tiny Droplets.

    I’ve got a neuro wheel. You know, that stainless steel gizmo with a six-inch handle and small sharp-pointed wheel that you roll across the skin. It creates an extremely sensual feeling, and Jake and I had used it a lot. You’re not supposed to press too hard or the spikes will break the skin. But I like to lie in bed and roll it across my chest and belly, pressing just hard enough to poke into the skin and leave tiny droplets of blood. In the mirrors above my bed, I watch crimson drops forming on my smooth white pecs and abs. Sensual. Exciting. Sometimes, on drugs, I even run the points over my nipples or dick, although that can be more painful, which of course is the point. When I’m covered with dozens of tiny droplets, I jerk off, and watch in the mirror as huge globs of thick creamy splooge shoot into the air and splatter onto my chest and belly. One hand whacks my meat while the other smears the cum and blood together creating a pink paste that I lick from my hand as I continue wanking and groaning loudly. Even as my passion ebbs, the ecstasy lingers as my finger continues to scoop up cumblood and wipe it on my tongue. Damn! I love this!

    So, you see, the neuro wheel is a handy tool. Even on my own tool, although that is extremely sensitive. Ouch! I began to consider many more stimulating uses for it. Like, as a killing tool.

    From one of the gyms, I enticed Kenny with the promise of a blow job. I think he was straight but what man, gay or straight, can refuse such an offer from a stud like me. So, there he was. Drugged, unconscious, naked, and standing spread-eagled, chains to his wrists and ankles, head drooping, mouth open, vulnerable. I fondled his limp dick and then injected liquid Viagra to its base. Up it popped, at rigid attention, nine inches, straight out from his crotch. Nice balls, too, in a large roomy sac. As he hung, still out of it, I caressed his smooth muscled body. So hard, so warm. A punch into his relaxed gut forced a blast of air from his lungs into my face. I was ready. “Let’s get at it, bitch!”

    I started on his smooth, muscular back, rolling the wheel lightly, not pressing too hard, which caused tiny specks of blood to appear. Then I moved on to his chest and stomach, his butt, biceps, and legs. He was a strange sight, this strong, hot stud, spread-eagled, speckled with tiny red dots on his smooth white skin. A pointillist painting.

    I returned to his back and began again, this time pressing the sharp points more deeply into his body. More blood now. And more pain, too, because he let out a loud scream. Oh, good, Kenny was awake. I walked round in front of him. He had a disbelieving look on his face, like “What the Fuck?” and “You’re hurting me!” all at once. I just smiled and patted his cheek. “You’re hot, man. I’m gonna bloody you up a bit. Make you really beautiful.” He lurched in his chains which made my dick quiver even more.

    As he screamed at me, I ran the wheel up and down his back, pushing down hard, the spikes digging into his firm muscles. All his hours at the gym were paying off. For me. I moved on to his meaty pecs rolling up and down and side to side. When I moved into his armpits, his baritone screams became soprano screeches.

    I touched the wheel to his chest, just below the breast bone. Pressing hard, I ran the wheel down to the base of his cock. The tiny droplets grew into large drops, and became a rivulet flowing down his belly to his cock. One rivulet continued onto his dick and dripped off the head. Another ran around his cock to his balls only to dribble to the floor. Other streams simply ran down his smooth muscular legs. Kenny was screaming as I ran two more lines next to the first. The rivulets became a stream, running down and dripping. I dropped to the floor and put my head beneath the flow to let it splatter on my face and into my mouth. To taste Man’s essence, whether cum or blood or meat, is to taste Paradise.

    I returned to his back and began again, this time pressing the sharp points more deeply into his body. More blood now. And more pain. I rolled the wheel over every inch of his back, pressing harder and harder with each pass, the spikes penetrating about a quarter inch into his skin, ripping at the skin as the spikes rolled in and out. Again, I moved on to other parts of his body below the neck. Kenny was still whimpering but I don’t think I had really hurt him. After all, the spikes could go in no further than a quarter inch into soft tissue.

    But now, I ran the wheel across his forehead, pressing the spikes against his skull. Ah, yes. Real pain. I knelt in front of his dick, decided it needed another shot of liquid Viagra, and watched it grow rock hard again. But it didn’t take long for the wheel to tenderize that meat. And his sac. The skin on both yielded quickly to the spikes. With my teeth, I ripped off pieces of shredded skin. Biting, chewing, swallowing. In a frenzy, I got up and worked that wheel over his entire body, pressing the spikes as deep into him as my strength would allow. Then to his face, neck and scalp. His head turned crimson, his hair wet and soaked with blood. He twitched in his chains and moaned a low constant morn. When I finally rolled the spikes into his eyeballs, he let out a strange screechy gurgling groan.

    There was no new place for me to roll the wheel. His entire body was oozing blood, even the soft soles of his feet. I dropped him to the floor. Twitching and moaning, and oozing, he looked awesome. So beautiful. I slurped red elixir from his body. I fucked his ass. I fucked his mouth. Then I rolled off and held him tightly, caressing his body, as two men do after a bout of love when passion ebbs and dicks soften. I fell asleep, dreaming contentedly of floating on a red river. Kenny remained in my arms, breathing heavily and unevenly, with no strength to resist, blind, in agony, his life oozing onto me and the floor. When I awoke in the morning, he was barely alive. I fucked him again, strangled him, took a shower, and went off to work.
    Flesh and Blood:
    Organic and Natural.
    Nutritious and Tasty.

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