headsman
Let me finish you off
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2011
- Messages
- 592
- Location
- West Hollywood
Diary of a Str8 Jock Killer: First Kill
by DCSadist68@yahoo.com
I'll admit that the operation was a bit overplanned, but you have to remember that it was my first kill.* Despite some missteps, it went off well, though, as I planned.* Unlike mountain sadists (whom I like and occasionally share game with) who slaughter their prey deep in the woods, I live in a suburban town house in a densely-populated college town, which is filled nine months of the year with cocky, athletic, young, straight boys.*
So, unlike my outdoor brethren, I have many testosterone-filled, ball cap-wearing pledges to choose from. As young and energetic as they were, they were a loud bunch when stimulated. So I also had to design my townhouse basement to absorb all manner of ear-piercing, deep-throated male screams and musky, gym locker odors that boys produce. Quite frankly, it was thrilling to know my neighbors (a straight couple on one side and three male nerds on the other) were a mere 10 feet away eating popcorn, watching TV or doing math problems while I was happily stroking my dick on using a sharp Dremel tool to slowly hollow out the penis of a dark-haired young wrestler from New Jersey. he was strapped down buck naked, shrieking at the top of his lungs, and thrashing wildly on the stainless steel table with blood and penis innards covering his dark bush, lower belly, muscular thighs and my hands. His torso was covered with his dry cum. Every guy who I ever brought to my playroom has rewarded me with a thick load of cum. They all protest at being tied up and all, but as long as you convince them that this is an elaborate frat house prank, they all get hard immediately. Fortunately I had always been blessed with that All American youthful look, so they always assumed I was one of them. Harmless. So all in all, I was pleased with my basement-turned-game room, because it perfectly met the needs of the young men for whom it was designed.* In fact, I often thought of it as their space rather than mine and kept the contents of their wallets as a cover payment for use of the play space, which was only fair, given the free food and drink I gave them.*
My crib had everything a jock right out of high school and new to college would need. The walls were covered with slate tile that hoses off easily; there are no windows; it has a state-of-the-art ventilation system and drain in the floor; it's well-stocked with a myriad of restraints and torture instruments (some of which are designed specifically for the male body and have cool names like the "dragon's claw") and an eco-friendly no-odor incinerator for body disposal.*
Once completed, I couldn't wait to open it up to the fraternity studs.* While illegal immigrants were constructing it, I used my time to take classes in CPR and other basic medical techniques that I knew would come in handy.* The purpose of the CPR was to revive a stud so he could experience multiple deaths and prolonged physical glory. My first kill was a hottie I will always rememner. His name was Brian. He was 19, had that good-looking, boy-next-door, All-American fresh face that I enjoy.* He had sandy blond hair and blue eyes, stood about 5 10, weighed 160, and had a smooth flawless body with strong shoulders, nicely defined pecs, washboard abs, a V-shaped back, and the cocky and confident attitude that comes with all of that.* A true alpha male. Everything I look for in my prey.* I first noticed him stepping off of the team bus, fresh from a baseball game in which he was a short stop.* He was wearing his baseball pants but was shirtless and carrying his bag of gear.* I knew at that point that he would be my first. To get back to the point, so to speak, his penis turned out to be only average length but wonderfully laced with veins along the shaft.* It compensated for its length with thickness and a bulbous mushroom head with delicate lips.* His egg-sized testicles hung low in their fleshy sacks and were covered with hair.* In fact, beautiful golden locks swirled around his genitals - until I shaved them off, of course.* He was simply 19-year-old perfection with a toned teen body sculpted by sports, sun and a burning desire for pussy.* Did I mention he had tattoos on both biceps - one of a dragon and the other of the fraternity he had just pledged?* I relished the thought of owning him completely and selecting his time and method of death. I'll just say that he put up a hell of a fight throughout his three long weeks of torture.* Before I get to his last day, though, let me share a few lessons I learned from him: - Smelling salts should be given in during torture, particularly if it involves significant cutting of flesh, to ensure the boy is alert and feels maximum pain, - The floor drain must have a garbage disposal to handle hair, shit, and body parts that he will shed. - A steady diet of high protein shakes and Viagra greatly increases the boy's ability to endure daily pain and blood loss while maintaining a painful, blood-filled, throbbing erection, and - Every effort should be made to inflict some form of pain on him around the clock, even if that means waking up throughout the night when the pain of his last torture has subsided. It saddens me to think how much worse Brian's torture could have been. His successors, however, benefited greatly from this hindsight. So what method did I select for this stud's death?* I relished the thought of slowly beheading him as I fucked his tight ass, or maybe cutting his heart out. But in the end I opted for a neat and clean exit strategy, drowning.* I had grown a bit bored with Brian and was only raping his moist virgin butt about twice a day, filling his straight rectum with my cum and piss while twisting the roofing nails in his tits.* After a few days it became obvious that he was loving our fuck sessions. He got hard whenever I was with him. By week two there was no fight in him at all. The day he started screaming for me to fuck him harder I decided he was done.
Also, I had identified my next kill and needed to make space and clean and prep the basement for his arrival.* It made my cock rock hard knowing that Brian was so close to death and that he was spending his final hours in total nudity, pain and terror. Using a pulley system, I hung the hunky short stop upside down by the ankles, legs spread, hands bound tightly behind his back. His cock and balls dangled forward at face level to me.* I promised him freedom if he could do a hundred crunches in that position. He smiled, assuming that freedom was at hand. The boy had a wicked strong body, and he banged out the first fifty crunches effortlessly. The next twenty he began to show effort. By the 70th rep, he was sweaty and breathing hard. By the 90th rep he was struggling hard. He got a determined wild eyed look in his eye. He was tired of being my fuck toy. His last five were pathetic. His head barely raised. The muscles all over his luscious body were pumped up hard. He was ready.
I dragged a tub of water under him so that he had to remain in a crunch position to keep his head and upper shoulders from submerging. He started to beg immediately when his head dipped into the water. That gave him a second wind and a huge hard on. I stood over him so that I could suck his pretty cock and savor his final ejaculation.*
I looked down into his bloodshot eyes as his belly muscles gave out. He held that one last breath and begged with his eyes as I savored his precum.
He never looked better than in that moment, but there was one last thing I wanted to see him do. I pulled on the rope to haul him up out of the water just as he started to blow bubbles out of his mouth. He looked grateful until he saw the knife in my hand.
I sucked his hard cock as I used a paring knife to slice a deep incision directly down the middle of his lean six-pack.* Very little blood trickled from the opened belly, over his face and shoulders and into the tub.* His glistening bowels pushed out from the huge gash. His screams were muted since he had screamed himself hoarse the previous night when I caned his bubble butt, back and legs until all three were red with bloody stripes.* As he twisted and squirmed like a fish on a line, I ran my mouth up and down his throbbing cock shaft, tonguing the salty juice leaking from his piss slit.
The Viagra held him hard, on edge, even as he fought for his life. I would run my hands down his bloody abs and feel his heart beating a mile a minute, as though he were running a marathon.* I lowered him back into the water. His face looked desperate when he felt the water rising over the crown of his head. When his head went under the water and it became clear that he would not be able to raise it up, I increased my sucking of his rigid, thick cock while rubbing my own. Brian thrashed wildly, gasping for air but inhaling only water. The air rushed from his strong lungs and bubbled rapidly to the surface. As if on cue, I dug my fingers into the gashes crossing his tense and meaty butt mounds and held his penis firmly in my mouth while his fleshy and hairy ball sacks, swollen from beatings and electric shocks, blanketed the bridge of my nose.* And just as I had hoped, when his muscular body convulsed in its final death throws, ropes of warm and salty boy sperm poured into my mouth, coating my tongue and teeth and sliding down my throat like tablespoon after tablespoon of yogurt. At the same time, I fired my load across his spasming chest and bloodied abs. Within seconds, we were both finished.* I collapsed onto a chair, savoring his jizz flavor and admiring his well-built and well-used corpse.* I would spend the next hour cleaning up the mess, disposing of the jock (although keeping a few souvenirs), and preparing for the next arrival.* It wouldn't be long before my erection would return and require a new kill.
by DCSadist68@yahoo.com
I'll admit that the operation was a bit overplanned, but you have to remember that it was my first kill.* Despite some missteps, it went off well, though, as I planned.* Unlike mountain sadists (whom I like and occasionally share game with) who slaughter their prey deep in the woods, I live in a suburban town house in a densely-populated college town, which is filled nine months of the year with cocky, athletic, young, straight boys.*
So, unlike my outdoor brethren, I have many testosterone-filled, ball cap-wearing pledges to choose from. As young and energetic as they were, they were a loud bunch when stimulated. So I also had to design my townhouse basement to absorb all manner of ear-piercing, deep-throated male screams and musky, gym locker odors that boys produce. Quite frankly, it was thrilling to know my neighbors (a straight couple on one side and three male nerds on the other) were a mere 10 feet away eating popcorn, watching TV or doing math problems while I was happily stroking my dick on using a sharp Dremel tool to slowly hollow out the penis of a dark-haired young wrestler from New Jersey. he was strapped down buck naked, shrieking at the top of his lungs, and thrashing wildly on the stainless steel table with blood and penis innards covering his dark bush, lower belly, muscular thighs and my hands. His torso was covered with his dry cum. Every guy who I ever brought to my playroom has rewarded me with a thick load of cum. They all protest at being tied up and all, but as long as you convince them that this is an elaborate frat house prank, they all get hard immediately. Fortunately I had always been blessed with that All American youthful look, so they always assumed I was one of them. Harmless. So all in all, I was pleased with my basement-turned-game room, because it perfectly met the needs of the young men for whom it was designed.* In fact, I often thought of it as their space rather than mine and kept the contents of their wallets as a cover payment for use of the play space, which was only fair, given the free food and drink I gave them.*
My crib had everything a jock right out of high school and new to college would need. The walls were covered with slate tile that hoses off easily; there are no windows; it has a state-of-the-art ventilation system and drain in the floor; it's well-stocked with a myriad of restraints and torture instruments (some of which are designed specifically for the male body and have cool names like the "dragon's claw") and an eco-friendly no-odor incinerator for body disposal.*
Once completed, I couldn't wait to open it up to the fraternity studs.* While illegal immigrants were constructing it, I used my time to take classes in CPR and other basic medical techniques that I knew would come in handy.* The purpose of the CPR was to revive a stud so he could experience multiple deaths and prolonged physical glory. My first kill was a hottie I will always rememner. His name was Brian. He was 19, had that good-looking, boy-next-door, All-American fresh face that I enjoy.* He had sandy blond hair and blue eyes, stood about 5 10, weighed 160, and had a smooth flawless body with strong shoulders, nicely defined pecs, washboard abs, a V-shaped back, and the cocky and confident attitude that comes with all of that.* A true alpha male. Everything I look for in my prey.* I first noticed him stepping off of the team bus, fresh from a baseball game in which he was a short stop.* He was wearing his baseball pants but was shirtless and carrying his bag of gear.* I knew at that point that he would be my first. To get back to the point, so to speak, his penis turned out to be only average length but wonderfully laced with veins along the shaft.* It compensated for its length with thickness and a bulbous mushroom head with delicate lips.* His egg-sized testicles hung low in their fleshy sacks and were covered with hair.* In fact, beautiful golden locks swirled around his genitals - until I shaved them off, of course.* He was simply 19-year-old perfection with a toned teen body sculpted by sports, sun and a burning desire for pussy.* Did I mention he had tattoos on both biceps - one of a dragon and the other of the fraternity he had just pledged?* I relished the thought of owning him completely and selecting his time and method of death. I'll just say that he put up a hell of a fight throughout his three long weeks of torture.* Before I get to his last day, though, let me share a few lessons I learned from him: - Smelling salts should be given in during torture, particularly if it involves significant cutting of flesh, to ensure the boy is alert and feels maximum pain, - The floor drain must have a garbage disposal to handle hair, shit, and body parts that he will shed. - A steady diet of high protein shakes and Viagra greatly increases the boy's ability to endure daily pain and blood loss while maintaining a painful, blood-filled, throbbing erection, and - Every effort should be made to inflict some form of pain on him around the clock, even if that means waking up throughout the night when the pain of his last torture has subsided. It saddens me to think how much worse Brian's torture could have been. His successors, however, benefited greatly from this hindsight. So what method did I select for this stud's death?* I relished the thought of slowly beheading him as I fucked his tight ass, or maybe cutting his heart out. But in the end I opted for a neat and clean exit strategy, drowning.* I had grown a bit bored with Brian and was only raping his moist virgin butt about twice a day, filling his straight rectum with my cum and piss while twisting the roofing nails in his tits.* After a few days it became obvious that he was loving our fuck sessions. He got hard whenever I was with him. By week two there was no fight in him at all. The day he started screaming for me to fuck him harder I decided he was done.
Also, I had identified my next kill and needed to make space and clean and prep the basement for his arrival.* It made my cock rock hard knowing that Brian was so close to death and that he was spending his final hours in total nudity, pain and terror. Using a pulley system, I hung the hunky short stop upside down by the ankles, legs spread, hands bound tightly behind his back. His cock and balls dangled forward at face level to me.* I promised him freedom if he could do a hundred crunches in that position. He smiled, assuming that freedom was at hand. The boy had a wicked strong body, and he banged out the first fifty crunches effortlessly. The next twenty he began to show effort. By the 70th rep, he was sweaty and breathing hard. By the 90th rep he was struggling hard. He got a determined wild eyed look in his eye. He was tired of being my fuck toy. His last five were pathetic. His head barely raised. The muscles all over his luscious body were pumped up hard. He was ready.
I dragged a tub of water under him so that he had to remain in a crunch position to keep his head and upper shoulders from submerging. He started to beg immediately when his head dipped into the water. That gave him a second wind and a huge hard on. I stood over him so that I could suck his pretty cock and savor his final ejaculation.*
I looked down into his bloodshot eyes as his belly muscles gave out. He held that one last breath and begged with his eyes as I savored his precum.
He never looked better than in that moment, but there was one last thing I wanted to see him do. I pulled on the rope to haul him up out of the water just as he started to blow bubbles out of his mouth. He looked grateful until he saw the knife in my hand.
I sucked his hard cock as I used a paring knife to slice a deep incision directly down the middle of his lean six-pack.* Very little blood trickled from the opened belly, over his face and shoulders and into the tub.* His glistening bowels pushed out from the huge gash. His screams were muted since he had screamed himself hoarse the previous night when I caned his bubble butt, back and legs until all three were red with bloody stripes.* As he twisted and squirmed like a fish on a line, I ran my mouth up and down his throbbing cock shaft, tonguing the salty juice leaking from his piss slit.
The Viagra held him hard, on edge, even as he fought for his life. I would run my hands down his bloody abs and feel his heart beating a mile a minute, as though he were running a marathon.* I lowered him back into the water. His face looked desperate when he felt the water rising over the crown of his head. When his head went under the water and it became clear that he would not be able to raise it up, I increased my sucking of his rigid, thick cock while rubbing my own. Brian thrashed wildly, gasping for air but inhaling only water. The air rushed from his strong lungs and bubbled rapidly to the surface. As if on cue, I dug my fingers into the gashes crossing his tense and meaty butt mounds and held his penis firmly in my mouth while his fleshy and hairy ball sacks, swollen from beatings and electric shocks, blanketed the bridge of my nose.* And just as I had hoped, when his muscular body convulsed in its final death throws, ropes of warm and salty boy sperm poured into my mouth, coating my tongue and teeth and sliding down my throat like tablespoon after tablespoon of yogurt. At the same time, I fired my load across his spasming chest and bloodied abs. Within seconds, we were both finished.* I collapsed onto a chair, savoring his jizz flavor and admiring his well-built and well-used corpse.* I would spend the next hour cleaning up the mess, disposing of the jock (although keeping a few souvenirs), and preparing for the next arrival.* It wouldn't be long before my erection would return and require a new kill.
