- Joined
- Jan 13, 2012
- Messages
- 6,473
- Location
- Cannibal Heaven
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, hustlers 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. 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, 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 spread 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?
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, hustlers 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. 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, 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 spread 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?
