I saw my neighbor last week and she mentioned that she would be gone for two weeks over the holidays. We don’t talk much, but we’re cordial. I’ve been in my place for a long time, back before this neighborhood was even up-and-coming. Everyone on this block had bars on their windows, but I think I was the only one who had bars on the inside, too.
She and her husband moved here not long ago, and their nicely remodeled house has huge windows with no bars on them. I guess that makes the gentrification official. I actually don’t mind it or the higher property taxes. The more yuppie this place becomes, the less people involve themselves with each other. Gone is the community; here to stay (for now) is a neatly arranged block of isolated lives, some dwelling in new construction that looks like it was assembled with an Allen wrench.
For that reason, I was a little surprised when my neighbor spoke to me. However, it was only to say that in their absence someone would be looking after the cats, so if I saw a young man hanging around their place I shouldn’t be alarmed.
(I wouldn’t have been.)
I didn’t think any more of it until last night, when I was taking out the trash and I looked across to their house. Through the big side windows of their house I could see into the kitchen where the young cat sitter was standing with his back to me in nothing but a tight pair of briefs.
I practically dropped the garbage on my feet.
A perfect swimmer’s physique, tapering to a lean waist, then blossoming into one of the most perfect asses I have ever seen. Two perfect globes atop sturdy legs.
I stood there for a moment in the cold. Before I was even aware, I had made the decision that I was going to have that ass. The question was, would it be consensual or would it be non-consensual, meaning terminal for him? I was pondering this when he turned slightly to show the deep groove of his obliques and a nicely defined chest. His face was still turned away.
If I could get him in consensually, would he want to play in the dungeon? If the answer was no and there was any record of our interaction, it would make it much more dangerous to grab him for some non-con action. This target was a little too close to home. If I wasn’t going to take no for an answer with this one, it seemed non-consensual was the better way to hedge my bets. At least grabbing and transporting would be easy this close, and if I set the stage right I still wouldn’t be a suspect.
His head turned and I saw a handsome profile with a slight beard. It looked good on him. He looked to be hairless (or shaved) elsewhere below the neck, so it gave his Adonis-like body a manlier edge, and it’s more fun to dominate a man than a boy.
I turned and made my way back inside, planning the next move.
I would later find out his name was Kevin, age 23, originally from the west coast but going to school in NYC and spending his holiday here to make a little extra cash and just relax. He probably had big plans for the new year. Oh well.
Some contractors just aren’t very subtle about using those dumb “key rocks,” so I knew just where to find a key to the back door. When Kevin came home, he didn’t even have a chance to turn before I got a needle in his neck and put him under. The cat appeared for a brief moment, then scurried off. It would be going hungry that night and for the foreseeable future, but I’m not exactly a cat person, so I didn’t exactly feel torn up about this.
After a certain hour, it was easy to load Kevin, cuffed and gagged, into the neighbor’s car (seeing they had conveniently left a set of keys for it), drive around the block and back right into my own garage. It was so easy (too easy) that a part of me only became more paranoid. I put him in the basement and strapped him down before driving the car right back and circling the block again before locking myself in at home.
He had been stirring groggily when I had manacled him and strapped him to a rack with a spreader bar between his ankles. He was fully alert and struggling when I entered the soundproofed play room again. I had gone ahead and changed into a skintight, black ensemble: a black tee stretched over my own, battle-hardened physique, leather pants that hugged every curve of my thick legs, cock and ass, combat boots that added another inch to my 6’2” frame, rubber gloves the stretched just to the wrist and crinkled as my hands bunched into meaty fists, and a light wool balaclava to top it all off. I could see the fear in Kevin’s eyes when I entered, and then you could smell it in the air. I hadn’t bothered to strip his clothes, and they clung to him with sweat. Drool was glistening on his beard as it seeped from a round the ball gag stretching his jaw open.
The nights are so long here in winter. I knew then this was going to be the longest of his life…a fitting end to it. Maybe he knew it, too, though I could see in his eyes a refusal to believe it, a need to bargain and save his skin. If only the gag weren’t there, he might talk his way out of it, he surely thought.
No such luck. The gag stayed in as I tightened the tethers on his wrists, stretching him so that he would have been dangling had he not been strapped to the board. An eyeless leather hood then went over his damp scalp, across his nose and ears, dulling his senses. He immediately began to panic. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he pissed himself. I put hand gently over his heart. He flinched then relaxed, as if somehow this were an act of tenderness. I just wanted to feel the thrashing inside him, the racing pulse.
He wouldn’t know to expect the first punch to his gut, so I made it a good one, right into his upper abs, just beneath the solar plexus. There was the dull thud of impact, the rattle of his restraints and a loud whoop of air blasting out of him. The groan and the cry came seconds later as he struggled to draw in a breath. He didn’t get to fill his lungs before I launched another pair of blows into his left side and his navel. He thrashed airlessly and streams of bile and mucus shot from his nostrils and around the gag, splashing across his shirt. I just patted his guts roughly as he tried to clear his air passages and gasped like a dying fish. The moment I heard him start to take one full, clear breath, I clasped my hands over his nose and mouth, blocking him. His face, already red, almost instantly turned purple. I let him thrash for a bit before removing my hands. The lungs emptied with a miserable grunt and involuntarily began to fill again. My hands put a quick stop to it again. For nearly ten minutes, I kept him on the brink of suffocation. His body was sopping wet with sweat and, below the waist, piss from an involuntary bladder release.
He was becoming less responsive so I stepped away and watched him shiver and hiccup, taking just quick shallow breaths, trained at this point to expect a deeper inhale to be cut off. While I let his brain feast on oxygen, I went to choose the first flail of the evening. I didn’t want to rip him apart too fast, but I also wanted to shred the clothes off of him, so I went with an intermediate to start (one that had plastic strips to rip fish and cloth).
I took my position to his left. His head lolled in my direction. he must have heard me there over his own muffled gasps and beating of his own heart, trapped in the hot hood over his ears and brain. The flail landed with a snap and he jolted stiff. It withdrew to show the wet cloth across his chest ripped laterally. I shiver went through him and he let out the first real scream of the night. The next three hist across his torso came in quick succession, eliciting pulsing cries as the shirt began to come apart and darken in spots with blood.
I counted it out silently to determine how many licks it would take to flay the shirt off his chest and abdomen. It took 23, but I wasn’t very efficient about it. His domed pecs and smoothly grooved abs were striped with welts and cuts, and the blood diffused from them through the sheen of his sweat, collecting in intersection of his muscles as it trickled down to his waist.
Had he been wearing jeans, I wouldn’t have bothered hacking through to his legs, but he was in sweats, so his thighs and shins got a similar treatment. The latter were sliced almost to the bone in places by the time I shredded the pants off of him, while fronts of his thighs had turned to a bruise and bloody jelly. We had been together in the dungeon for less than an hour and he was already giving up.
Not for long. I set aside the flail and used shears to cut away the last bits of his pants and shirt, I had left the briefs intact until now for fear of slicing up his cock too much and too early. He tumbled and wept as the shears cut the briefs from him, leaving him completely naked except for the socks I had left on his feet. I poked at his shriveled cock with the shears and he started weeping more vigorously. I got the sense that he was probably a grower and I would be able to have fun with this with a little chemical intervention.
I stepped over a fridge and pulled out a little bottle containing a cocktail of adrenaline and other stimulants that would reactivate his nerves and mind, allowing them to fray more completely as I took his body apart. As an added bonus, he would get a powerful and undying erection (as long as his heart was till pumping blood, at least).
A quick stick and the bad medicine went to work. I could stand back and just watch the effects swarm over him: the confusion, the loss of bodily shock, the reinvigorated sense of pain, and (most bewildering to him) that boner to end all boners. I wasn’t disappointed; his was a nice, fat shaft about 7 inches long, twitching and bobbing over his egg-sized balls.
I had him beat in length, by a couple inches, but he was just about as thick as me—about 2.5 inches across and almost just as thick from top to bottom. We both had prominent mushroom heads, but he had one advantage that made me envious: a foreskin. They cut mine off like most guys my age when I was still a bawling baby. Kevin was about to become a bawling baby when I cut his off.
I grabbed a straight razor and sauntered over to him. He felt its cold edge first knick him just below his navel, where they had cut him free from his mother’s body (but stopped short of mutilating his genitals as others did). His stomach caved inwards at the touch of the blade, which I then delicately drew down over the trim, we patch of pubes. He whined in protest as the dull edge of the razor was dragged over the top of his cock, following the prominent veins to the hood straining over his bright pink glans. I withdrew the blade just to place it again between his testicles, which bounced as he again tried to recoil in his binds. The blade made micro-incisions in the delicate flesh of his cock’s underside as I dragged it to the tip again. At last, with my other hand I got a firm grip on the hood, peeling it from the head and stuck the blade in between. I hadn’t cut yet, but he knew instantly what was coming and he wailed. The wail became a keening shriek as the blade parted the skin down to the shaft and I began to peel it away from his body in a somewhat ragged, uneven cut. I had never done this before and even though I know there’s a lot of blood surging through the organ, I was surprised at how bloody the procedure was. The blade was crimson and the hand maneuvering his cock and the skin was slick with blood before it was over.
The adrenaline in his veins kept Kevin completely aware of every moment of his mutilation. I think his sanity was already beginning to slip at this point. But then, I’m not the best judge of sanity.
I laid the flap of skin off on a tray next to the razor. Remarkable how there is so much symbolic fuss over so small a thing, especially when (I hear) it deprives men of so much intensity of feeling. Is it possible that I became who I am because of my own mutilation? We can’t rule it out.
But I couldn’t dwell on that. It was past midnight and we had many hours left to go, but I hadn’t even started on Kevin’s back and ass. That perfect ass that had made him irresistible. I couldn’t wait.
I hefted Kevin’s legs by the spreader bar and hooked cable onto it that runs through a bully overhead, and back down to a motorized winch on the wall. Gradually, Kevin’s feet were pulled as high as his wrists, exposing that beautiful bubble butt. Fuck me, it was even more flawless up close. Perfectly shaped, without a single blemish, and, in this position, parted to reveal a lightly haired valley between the meaty globes, with a perfect, tight little slit at the center. Fucking perfect.
My bloodier hand swept lightly over the pale flesh, smearing his blood in distinct trails over it, a foreshadowing its impending destruction. They worked down into the delicate hole, already damp with sweat. His bleeding cock was lying against his abs, so I pulled it up between his legs, drawing more sharp cries from around the gag in his mouth. The blood oozed down the shaft, over his balls and then down between his gluten, trickling over his smooth little cunt. I pushed one finger in with surprising ease. Then two. Despite how flawless and virgin that whole looked, I quickly decided that he was not, in fact, virginal. Not that it mattered to me. I didn’t need to be the first to split it open in I got to be the last.
I left him dangling for a moment to grab an enema. This wouldn’t be a deep clean, just a quick chemical shot to empty out the back end. I shoved it in and kept it in place to let the chemicals do their work then brought a bucket underneath his ass as I pulled it out and started massaging his guts between his legs (by mashing down on his cock, of course). A cloudy burst came out. Turns out, he hadn’t needed it anyways. I guess some mother’s are right to worry that their sons aren’t eating enough, even though Kevin was quite the Adonis.
Without further ado, I unleashed my own cock from my pants and lubed it up with his blood and just a little oil. It was mostly to expedite entry, not preserve his ass. I’m sure he could sense it all happening, even before I positioned myself in front of him and put one hand around his neck while the other steadied my prong as I leaned into him. He tightened to fight the entry; I was glad he did. It gave me a reason to choke him good as I jabbed thrice at the hole before sinking it into him. He was spluttering, just attempting to breathe, so he couldn’t manage a scream right away, but when I removed my choke hold and just set to work on torturing his nice, pink nipples as I sliced deeper into him, he started dry heaving. The pain was sickening him, which was turning me on. I fucked harder, relishing every impact my pelvis had again that perfect bubble butt as he took my cock nearly to the hilt. The only thing stopping me from going deeper was the padding of that ass. The truncheons on the wall wouldn’t have that problem.
I withdrew and grabbed one of those truncheons, 14 inches long and and 9 inches around. Before jamming it inside him I walloped his hamstrings a dozen times each with it. The thick, dense rubber left welts that would soon turn to nasty bruises. Between the lacerations of his quads and this damage, Kevin’s strong legs were practically useless.
The hole was puffy and red now, seeping little blood (perhaps just runoff from his other wounds) and the truncheon found its mark easily, but it took a lot of effort from me to sink more than ten inches in. A thick black knob protruded obscenely from his ass lips, which puffed up further as I began to ram the truncheon in and out. I slicked it up with a little more oil to ease my re-entry alongside it. He had already lost the ability to tighten it too much via muscle control, but the hole just didn’t want to stretch naturally beyond this point, so my fight was less against Kevin and more against the limits of his flesh at this point. Sure, a hole can be trained to take much thicker intrusions, but this wasn’t a training session. I was aiming to plow in, and when I finally did I could actually feel him split open and bathe my cock in hot blood.
The shriek was unearthly…and annoying. I put an end to it with another chokehold as I began to fuck him in smooth controlled strokes. His mouth was foaming and his lips were purple by the time I released his throat and allowed him to breathe again as I pumped. As he drew ragged breaths, I became more frenzied with my fuck, tearing at his nips with my hands, punching his cock and balls and slapping him across the face when he screamed. His lips had regained their natural hue, but were now slower and split from repeated blows. Despite this, Kevin was still a beauty to me.
I pulled the truncheon out of him in one swift yank while keeping my cock planted firm. Suddenly, my cock was surrounded to the hilt with his flesh, as the lining was inverted and protruded out between his cheeks. I shuddered in delight and began to fuck the loose, sloppy flesh at all angles, churning his guts to a pulp. I edge myself, speeding up and slowing down. It had been almost an hour since I had first slid inside him and now I was the one shivering and soaked with sweat.
I peeled my balaclava and shirt off, letting the cool air wash over me, smelling my own testosterone steaming in the cool air. My hands smeared my own chest with his blood as I stroked myself and played with my nipples. I was in bliss.
When I finally allowed myself to come, my vision flashed white and black and my fists pounded Kevin’s shoulders. My orgasm alone must have lasted a minute as I spasmed and pumped shot after shot into his torn cunt. I don’t know how he reacted. I was dead to the world, in a rapture that might have killed a lesser man. Even when I retained awareness of my surroundings, my dick was still twitching and pumping whatever it had left into Kevin’s beautiful back end.
Streams of tears were burbling from beneath the hood. He was wracked with sobs here and there just as I was wracked with pleasure. I was so sensitive all over, it was almost painful pulling out of him, but I did so slowly and stepped back to admire the damage I had done. His legs were swelling with bruises but his perfect gluten (though smeared with blood) were still perfectly intact. The hole between was unrecognizable, a gnarled mass of blood red tissue protruding and shiny with lube, blood and mucus, oozing a thick froth of cum.
I couldn’t have my essence going to waste, so my hand pushed into that soft, mangled mass and into his ass, scooping blindly around inside. When I withdrew, I had a nice pink puddle of jazz and blood in my palm. With the other hand, I undid the strap of Kevin’s gag. It took care and time to not spill the load dissolving in one hand while the other fumbled with the buckle behind his head, but I managed. The gag fell onto his chest and Kevin gasped and lolled his tongue as he tried to restore movement to his distended jaw. Before he could do much, one hand yanked the jaw down again while the other forced its contents into his mouth. A last meal: the froth of his undoing from below. I guess mom didn’t have to worry about him not eating after all.
He gagged lightly but I made sure it all went down his gullet, and while he was softly cursing I grabbed the truncheon again and forced into his mouth. Without a word, I began to rape his throat with it. He was gagging and belching a convulsing as much as his restraints would allow, but I was relentless. It was a thing of beauty to see the outline of the truncheon’s head appear in his neck, descending lower and lower as I flexed it down his throat. Naturally this was cutting off his breath again. I kept a firm grip with one hand while gently patting the bulge in his neck with the other before extracting it. A stream of fresh blood bathed his teeth and tongue. I didn’t know what had been split open. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be too quickly fatal.
Something had broken, though, as his voice was completely gone. I could tell he was trying to articulate words, but all that came out was hoarse gurgling. I’ll have to remember this technique for future dates when the guy won’t shut up.
The grand finale was approaching. We still had a few hours of darkness. I wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, but I would at least be able to relax and prepare for the disposal.
I undid the binds on one of Kevin’s wrists and cuffed it to the other wrist before undoing that bind, then the strap at his waist that held him to the board behind him. His slouching weight alone was all that kept him against the board, so as I swung him away from it his torso flopped down and his arms went with them, still dangling just over the floor. The bully that suspended his ankles and spreader bar creaked, but everything held firm as he tipped and turned slightly.
I kneeled and looped a bungee cord tight around Kevin’s cuffs and attached it to an eye-ring in the floor just slightly behind him, holding his arms taut. The hood slipped off his head and I let it lie where it landed on the floor. His brown hair was plastered to his skull, even upside down. His beautiful, lithe, sinuous back glowed at me, the last surface yet to be marred. I didn’t need to be conservative. For this, I brought out my nastiest flail: a dozen strands studded with serrated metal.
It was an odd angle and I had to take care to not slash myself as I angled below my own waist, but the first blow was triumphant. His shattered voice sounded like three people screaming at once, oscillating and shuddering as the first diagonal slashes began to ooze crimson. I knelt for the next two strikes, which wrapped around his lats, tearing at the edge of his pecs while flaying everything behind them. Ten more strikes removed enter patches of skin, baring the muscles beneath to the cool air.
He was going into shock again. It was time for some other shocks just too keep him going a little longer. I worked fast in wheeling a cart in front of him. On it were scalpels (I wouldn’t be using) but also a customized electroshock panel hooked to a car battery. The electrodes were attached to large steel needles which I unceremoniously jammed into each testicle and nipple. Also on the tray were a few sounds. I chose the thickest one, which also had an abrasive, ridged surface. Going in was tough; pulling it out was devastating.
Kevin’s cock was still hard, so I didn’t have to work too much to get the pointed metal tip into his pisser, but it took some force to get it jammed down even a few inches. Droplets of blood seeped from the pisslips. I found myself grinning as I steadied the cock and then in a quick motion ripped the sound out. Kevin projectile vomited bile between my boots and was gasping and trying to clear his nostrils of the acidic fluids as I forced the sound back into his bleeding, wrecked cock. This time, I didn’t stop until the whole ten inch rod was inside of him. Only a thick ring at the end protruded, to which I attached one more electrode.
I cranked it on, and allowed the machine to do the work. It was mostly automated, sending shocks into his tits and cock, slowing cooking his most delicate parts as the voltage increased and the frequency, too. I was free to go back to flailing him from neck to ass. Yes, at least I was ready to destroy those perfect, globes, tearing the skin from them, and then slicing the muscle as well. Kevin’s neck was solid red with the blood channeling down his back, all the way up to his calves, and the backs of his knees (also torn open with a few precise blows).
Even the shocks cooking his cock inside out weren’t enough to stir him. I was starting to wear out from the exertion, too. Between those meaty gluten, there was still that bubbling mass of rectal tissue that I had extracted with my cock. With one high powered swiped, I brought the flail down over it and his taint. He was split wide open.
I released the winch and let him crumple down a few feet, now a bloody tangle of limbs with his head bent awkwardly under his chest. I turned off the electricity and peered down between his legs at the bleeding gash. Blood was still umping. He was still alive, but fading fast. I wanted to feel the last bit of him go. I wanted to feel it from inside. I pushed my hand down into the gash, into the torn remains of his rectum and then kept pushing. I think I had already perforated him with the truncheon, because I pretty easily felt my hand slip into his guts and saw it bulge out the front of his abs.
I geld still. Yep. There was still a slight palpitation of a heartbeat and breathing inside him. Who knows if he was conscious? It didn’t matter. What mattered is that I could feel it all happen. I pushed deeper, sinking my arm past the elbow into him, letting my fingers slide down toward his lungs, deeper until they hit a wall and I just pressed my hand flat against that wall. The palpitations weakened. My whole arm became a sensory organ, detecting the subtle fade of Kevin into non-existence.
I stroked my dick with my free hand, aiming it down at his face, soaked with blood and other fluids and staring glass-eyed up at me.
My orgasm was coming hard and fast, perfectly timed as his own essence ebbed away. I won’t say I came as he went. It was another shattering orgasm for me, one that doused his face in one last kind of fluid while the arm inside him flexed and tore every last intact part of him. By the time I was able to regain my thoughts, shake the sweet from my face and whoop victoriously, Kevin was no more.
Well, his existence as a sentient being was over. On a physical level, Kevin was all over the room and all over me. Clean up would be a mess, but I had time. I took a break to have a drink before coming back down. I can be a weak man, and before I knew it I had turned Kevin over on his stomach on the floor as was fucking that ass one last time. It was not a tight, smooth fuck to say the least. It was a god awful mess, but seeing that beautiful, cool ass quiver while I pounded it to rigor mortis was worth it. Totally worth it. I even flipped Kevin over and kissed his cold, bloody mouth. I had never done it before, but he was a special guy. And I’m pretty sure there was probably some mistletoe in my living room overhead.
Kevin’s disappearance caused a lot of concern, of course, mostly about the safety of the neighborhood. “Perhaps,” the neighbors all seemed say, aggrieved, “it’s still up and coming.” Everyone upped their security, but they had nothing to fear from me, anyways.
You might be happy to know that the cat was fine, in spite of Kevin’s abdication. I smashed a window from the outside, just to ensure the notion that whoever snatched Kevin was not familiar with the house. Whether or not it helped divert attention from me, it certainly allowed an escape route for the cat. It was one of those overly fluffy sorts that typically couldn’t last in the wild. You might have thought it was too spoiled to function. You’d be wrong. Two days after Kevin and I had our date, I saw it in my yard, feasting on a starling. That couldn’t have been an easy catch, but it managed. Some things are just made for the hunt. When I consider that…maybe I am a cat person after all.
She and her husband moved here not long ago, and their nicely remodeled house has huge windows with no bars on them. I guess that makes the gentrification official. I actually don’t mind it or the higher property taxes. The more yuppie this place becomes, the less people involve themselves with each other. Gone is the community; here to stay (for now) is a neatly arranged block of isolated lives, some dwelling in new construction that looks like it was assembled with an Allen wrench.
For that reason, I was a little surprised when my neighbor spoke to me. However, it was only to say that in their absence someone would be looking after the cats, so if I saw a young man hanging around their place I shouldn’t be alarmed.
(I wouldn’t have been.)
I didn’t think any more of it until last night, when I was taking out the trash and I looked across to their house. Through the big side windows of their house I could see into the kitchen where the young cat sitter was standing with his back to me in nothing but a tight pair of briefs.
I practically dropped the garbage on my feet.
A perfect swimmer’s physique, tapering to a lean waist, then blossoming into one of the most perfect asses I have ever seen. Two perfect globes atop sturdy legs.
I stood there for a moment in the cold. Before I was even aware, I had made the decision that I was going to have that ass. The question was, would it be consensual or would it be non-consensual, meaning terminal for him? I was pondering this when he turned slightly to show the deep groove of his obliques and a nicely defined chest. His face was still turned away.
If I could get him in consensually, would he want to play in the dungeon? If the answer was no and there was any record of our interaction, it would make it much more dangerous to grab him for some non-con action. This target was a little too close to home. If I wasn’t going to take no for an answer with this one, it seemed non-consensual was the better way to hedge my bets. At least grabbing and transporting would be easy this close, and if I set the stage right I still wouldn’t be a suspect.
His head turned and I saw a handsome profile with a slight beard. It looked good on him. He looked to be hairless (or shaved) elsewhere below the neck, so it gave his Adonis-like body a manlier edge, and it’s more fun to dominate a man than a boy.
I turned and made my way back inside, planning the next move.
I would later find out his name was Kevin, age 23, originally from the west coast but going to school in NYC and spending his holiday here to make a little extra cash and just relax. He probably had big plans for the new year. Oh well.
Some contractors just aren’t very subtle about using those dumb “key rocks,” so I knew just where to find a key to the back door. When Kevin came home, he didn’t even have a chance to turn before I got a needle in his neck and put him under. The cat appeared for a brief moment, then scurried off. It would be going hungry that night and for the foreseeable future, but I’m not exactly a cat person, so I didn’t exactly feel torn up about this.
After a certain hour, it was easy to load Kevin, cuffed and gagged, into the neighbor’s car (seeing they had conveniently left a set of keys for it), drive around the block and back right into my own garage. It was so easy (too easy) that a part of me only became more paranoid. I put him in the basement and strapped him down before driving the car right back and circling the block again before locking myself in at home.
He had been stirring groggily when I had manacled him and strapped him to a rack with a spreader bar between his ankles. He was fully alert and struggling when I entered the soundproofed play room again. I had gone ahead and changed into a skintight, black ensemble: a black tee stretched over my own, battle-hardened physique, leather pants that hugged every curve of my thick legs, cock and ass, combat boots that added another inch to my 6’2” frame, rubber gloves the stretched just to the wrist and crinkled as my hands bunched into meaty fists, and a light wool balaclava to top it all off. I could see the fear in Kevin’s eyes when I entered, and then you could smell it in the air. I hadn’t bothered to strip his clothes, and they clung to him with sweat. Drool was glistening on his beard as it seeped from a round the ball gag stretching his jaw open.
The nights are so long here in winter. I knew then this was going to be the longest of his life…a fitting end to it. Maybe he knew it, too, though I could see in his eyes a refusal to believe it, a need to bargain and save his skin. If only the gag weren’t there, he might talk his way out of it, he surely thought.
No such luck. The gag stayed in as I tightened the tethers on his wrists, stretching him so that he would have been dangling had he not been strapped to the board. An eyeless leather hood then went over his damp scalp, across his nose and ears, dulling his senses. He immediately began to panic. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he pissed himself. I put hand gently over his heart. He flinched then relaxed, as if somehow this were an act of tenderness. I just wanted to feel the thrashing inside him, the racing pulse.
He wouldn’t know to expect the first punch to his gut, so I made it a good one, right into his upper abs, just beneath the solar plexus. There was the dull thud of impact, the rattle of his restraints and a loud whoop of air blasting out of him. The groan and the cry came seconds later as he struggled to draw in a breath. He didn’t get to fill his lungs before I launched another pair of blows into his left side and his navel. He thrashed airlessly and streams of bile and mucus shot from his nostrils and around the gag, splashing across his shirt. I just patted his guts roughly as he tried to clear his air passages and gasped like a dying fish. The moment I heard him start to take one full, clear breath, I clasped my hands over his nose and mouth, blocking him. His face, already red, almost instantly turned purple. I let him thrash for a bit before removing my hands. The lungs emptied with a miserable grunt and involuntarily began to fill again. My hands put a quick stop to it again. For nearly ten minutes, I kept him on the brink of suffocation. His body was sopping wet with sweat and, below the waist, piss from an involuntary bladder release.
He was becoming less responsive so I stepped away and watched him shiver and hiccup, taking just quick shallow breaths, trained at this point to expect a deeper inhale to be cut off. While I let his brain feast on oxygen, I went to choose the first flail of the evening. I didn’t want to rip him apart too fast, but I also wanted to shred the clothes off of him, so I went with an intermediate to start (one that had plastic strips to rip fish and cloth).
I took my position to his left. His head lolled in my direction. he must have heard me there over his own muffled gasps and beating of his own heart, trapped in the hot hood over his ears and brain. The flail landed with a snap and he jolted stiff. It withdrew to show the wet cloth across his chest ripped laterally. I shiver went through him and he let out the first real scream of the night. The next three hist across his torso came in quick succession, eliciting pulsing cries as the shirt began to come apart and darken in spots with blood.
I counted it out silently to determine how many licks it would take to flay the shirt off his chest and abdomen. It took 23, but I wasn’t very efficient about it. His domed pecs and smoothly grooved abs were striped with welts and cuts, and the blood diffused from them through the sheen of his sweat, collecting in intersection of his muscles as it trickled down to his waist.
Had he been wearing jeans, I wouldn’t have bothered hacking through to his legs, but he was in sweats, so his thighs and shins got a similar treatment. The latter were sliced almost to the bone in places by the time I shredded the pants off of him, while fronts of his thighs had turned to a bruise and bloody jelly. We had been together in the dungeon for less than an hour and he was already giving up.
Not for long. I set aside the flail and used shears to cut away the last bits of his pants and shirt, I had left the briefs intact until now for fear of slicing up his cock too much and too early. He tumbled and wept as the shears cut the briefs from him, leaving him completely naked except for the socks I had left on his feet. I poked at his shriveled cock with the shears and he started weeping more vigorously. I got the sense that he was probably a grower and I would be able to have fun with this with a little chemical intervention.
I stepped over a fridge and pulled out a little bottle containing a cocktail of adrenaline and other stimulants that would reactivate his nerves and mind, allowing them to fray more completely as I took his body apart. As an added bonus, he would get a powerful and undying erection (as long as his heart was till pumping blood, at least).
A quick stick and the bad medicine went to work. I could stand back and just watch the effects swarm over him: the confusion, the loss of bodily shock, the reinvigorated sense of pain, and (most bewildering to him) that boner to end all boners. I wasn’t disappointed; his was a nice, fat shaft about 7 inches long, twitching and bobbing over his egg-sized balls.
I had him beat in length, by a couple inches, but he was just about as thick as me—about 2.5 inches across and almost just as thick from top to bottom. We both had prominent mushroom heads, but he had one advantage that made me envious: a foreskin. They cut mine off like most guys my age when I was still a bawling baby. Kevin was about to become a bawling baby when I cut his off.
I grabbed a straight razor and sauntered over to him. He felt its cold edge first knick him just below his navel, where they had cut him free from his mother’s body (but stopped short of mutilating his genitals as others did). His stomach caved inwards at the touch of the blade, which I then delicately drew down over the trim, we patch of pubes. He whined in protest as the dull edge of the razor was dragged over the top of his cock, following the prominent veins to the hood straining over his bright pink glans. I withdrew the blade just to place it again between his testicles, which bounced as he again tried to recoil in his binds. The blade made micro-incisions in the delicate flesh of his cock’s underside as I dragged it to the tip again. At last, with my other hand I got a firm grip on the hood, peeling it from the head and stuck the blade in between. I hadn’t cut yet, but he knew instantly what was coming and he wailed. The wail became a keening shriek as the blade parted the skin down to the shaft and I began to peel it away from his body in a somewhat ragged, uneven cut. I had never done this before and even though I know there’s a lot of blood surging through the organ, I was surprised at how bloody the procedure was. The blade was crimson and the hand maneuvering his cock and the skin was slick with blood before it was over.
The adrenaline in his veins kept Kevin completely aware of every moment of his mutilation. I think his sanity was already beginning to slip at this point. But then, I’m not the best judge of sanity.
I laid the flap of skin off on a tray next to the razor. Remarkable how there is so much symbolic fuss over so small a thing, especially when (I hear) it deprives men of so much intensity of feeling. Is it possible that I became who I am because of my own mutilation? We can’t rule it out.
But I couldn’t dwell on that. It was past midnight and we had many hours left to go, but I hadn’t even started on Kevin’s back and ass. That perfect ass that had made him irresistible. I couldn’t wait.
I hefted Kevin’s legs by the spreader bar and hooked cable onto it that runs through a bully overhead, and back down to a motorized winch on the wall. Gradually, Kevin’s feet were pulled as high as his wrists, exposing that beautiful bubble butt. Fuck me, it was even more flawless up close. Perfectly shaped, without a single blemish, and, in this position, parted to reveal a lightly haired valley between the meaty globes, with a perfect, tight little slit at the center. Fucking perfect.
My bloodier hand swept lightly over the pale flesh, smearing his blood in distinct trails over it, a foreshadowing its impending destruction. They worked down into the delicate hole, already damp with sweat. His bleeding cock was lying against his abs, so I pulled it up between his legs, drawing more sharp cries from around the gag in his mouth. The blood oozed down the shaft, over his balls and then down between his gluten, trickling over his smooth little cunt. I pushed one finger in with surprising ease. Then two. Despite how flawless and virgin that whole looked, I quickly decided that he was not, in fact, virginal. Not that it mattered to me. I didn’t need to be the first to split it open in I got to be the last.
I left him dangling for a moment to grab an enema. This wouldn’t be a deep clean, just a quick chemical shot to empty out the back end. I shoved it in and kept it in place to let the chemicals do their work then brought a bucket underneath his ass as I pulled it out and started massaging his guts between his legs (by mashing down on his cock, of course). A cloudy burst came out. Turns out, he hadn’t needed it anyways. I guess some mother’s are right to worry that their sons aren’t eating enough, even though Kevin was quite the Adonis.
Without further ado, I unleashed my own cock from my pants and lubed it up with his blood and just a little oil. It was mostly to expedite entry, not preserve his ass. I’m sure he could sense it all happening, even before I positioned myself in front of him and put one hand around his neck while the other steadied my prong as I leaned into him. He tightened to fight the entry; I was glad he did. It gave me a reason to choke him good as I jabbed thrice at the hole before sinking it into him. He was spluttering, just attempting to breathe, so he couldn’t manage a scream right away, but when I removed my choke hold and just set to work on torturing his nice, pink nipples as I sliced deeper into him, he started dry heaving. The pain was sickening him, which was turning me on. I fucked harder, relishing every impact my pelvis had again that perfect bubble butt as he took my cock nearly to the hilt. The only thing stopping me from going deeper was the padding of that ass. The truncheons on the wall wouldn’t have that problem.
I withdrew and grabbed one of those truncheons, 14 inches long and and 9 inches around. Before jamming it inside him I walloped his hamstrings a dozen times each with it. The thick, dense rubber left welts that would soon turn to nasty bruises. Between the lacerations of his quads and this damage, Kevin’s strong legs were practically useless.
The hole was puffy and red now, seeping little blood (perhaps just runoff from his other wounds) and the truncheon found its mark easily, but it took a lot of effort from me to sink more than ten inches in. A thick black knob protruded obscenely from his ass lips, which puffed up further as I began to ram the truncheon in and out. I slicked it up with a little more oil to ease my re-entry alongside it. He had already lost the ability to tighten it too much via muscle control, but the hole just didn’t want to stretch naturally beyond this point, so my fight was less against Kevin and more against the limits of his flesh at this point. Sure, a hole can be trained to take much thicker intrusions, but this wasn’t a training session. I was aiming to plow in, and when I finally did I could actually feel him split open and bathe my cock in hot blood.
The shriek was unearthly…and annoying. I put an end to it with another chokehold as I began to fuck him in smooth controlled strokes. His mouth was foaming and his lips were purple by the time I released his throat and allowed him to breathe again as I pumped. As he drew ragged breaths, I became more frenzied with my fuck, tearing at his nips with my hands, punching his cock and balls and slapping him across the face when he screamed. His lips had regained their natural hue, but were now slower and split from repeated blows. Despite this, Kevin was still a beauty to me.
I pulled the truncheon out of him in one swift yank while keeping my cock planted firm. Suddenly, my cock was surrounded to the hilt with his flesh, as the lining was inverted and protruded out between his cheeks. I shuddered in delight and began to fuck the loose, sloppy flesh at all angles, churning his guts to a pulp. I edge myself, speeding up and slowing down. It had been almost an hour since I had first slid inside him and now I was the one shivering and soaked with sweat.
I peeled my balaclava and shirt off, letting the cool air wash over me, smelling my own testosterone steaming in the cool air. My hands smeared my own chest with his blood as I stroked myself and played with my nipples. I was in bliss.
When I finally allowed myself to come, my vision flashed white and black and my fists pounded Kevin’s shoulders. My orgasm alone must have lasted a minute as I spasmed and pumped shot after shot into his torn cunt. I don’t know how he reacted. I was dead to the world, in a rapture that might have killed a lesser man. Even when I retained awareness of my surroundings, my dick was still twitching and pumping whatever it had left into Kevin’s beautiful back end.
Streams of tears were burbling from beneath the hood. He was wracked with sobs here and there just as I was wracked with pleasure. I was so sensitive all over, it was almost painful pulling out of him, but I did so slowly and stepped back to admire the damage I had done. His legs were swelling with bruises but his perfect gluten (though smeared with blood) were still perfectly intact. The hole between was unrecognizable, a gnarled mass of blood red tissue protruding and shiny with lube, blood and mucus, oozing a thick froth of cum.
I couldn’t have my essence going to waste, so my hand pushed into that soft, mangled mass and into his ass, scooping blindly around inside. When I withdrew, I had a nice pink puddle of jazz and blood in my palm. With the other hand, I undid the strap of Kevin’s gag. It took care and time to not spill the load dissolving in one hand while the other fumbled with the buckle behind his head, but I managed. The gag fell onto his chest and Kevin gasped and lolled his tongue as he tried to restore movement to his distended jaw. Before he could do much, one hand yanked the jaw down again while the other forced its contents into his mouth. A last meal: the froth of his undoing from below. I guess mom didn’t have to worry about him not eating after all.
He gagged lightly but I made sure it all went down his gullet, and while he was softly cursing I grabbed the truncheon again and forced into his mouth. Without a word, I began to rape his throat with it. He was gagging and belching a convulsing as much as his restraints would allow, but I was relentless. It was a thing of beauty to see the outline of the truncheon’s head appear in his neck, descending lower and lower as I flexed it down his throat. Naturally this was cutting off his breath again. I kept a firm grip with one hand while gently patting the bulge in his neck with the other before extracting it. A stream of fresh blood bathed his teeth and tongue. I didn’t know what had been split open. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be too quickly fatal.
Something had broken, though, as his voice was completely gone. I could tell he was trying to articulate words, but all that came out was hoarse gurgling. I’ll have to remember this technique for future dates when the guy won’t shut up.
The grand finale was approaching. We still had a few hours of darkness. I wouldn’t get any sleep tonight, but I would at least be able to relax and prepare for the disposal.
I undid the binds on one of Kevin’s wrists and cuffed it to the other wrist before undoing that bind, then the strap at his waist that held him to the board behind him. His slouching weight alone was all that kept him against the board, so as I swung him away from it his torso flopped down and his arms went with them, still dangling just over the floor. The bully that suspended his ankles and spreader bar creaked, but everything held firm as he tipped and turned slightly.
I kneeled and looped a bungee cord tight around Kevin’s cuffs and attached it to an eye-ring in the floor just slightly behind him, holding his arms taut. The hood slipped off his head and I let it lie where it landed on the floor. His brown hair was plastered to his skull, even upside down. His beautiful, lithe, sinuous back glowed at me, the last surface yet to be marred. I didn’t need to be conservative. For this, I brought out my nastiest flail: a dozen strands studded with serrated metal.
It was an odd angle and I had to take care to not slash myself as I angled below my own waist, but the first blow was triumphant. His shattered voice sounded like three people screaming at once, oscillating and shuddering as the first diagonal slashes began to ooze crimson. I knelt for the next two strikes, which wrapped around his lats, tearing at the edge of his pecs while flaying everything behind them. Ten more strikes removed enter patches of skin, baring the muscles beneath to the cool air.
He was going into shock again. It was time for some other shocks just too keep him going a little longer. I worked fast in wheeling a cart in front of him. On it were scalpels (I wouldn’t be using) but also a customized electroshock panel hooked to a car battery. The electrodes were attached to large steel needles which I unceremoniously jammed into each testicle and nipple. Also on the tray were a few sounds. I chose the thickest one, which also had an abrasive, ridged surface. Going in was tough; pulling it out was devastating.
Kevin’s cock was still hard, so I didn’t have to work too much to get the pointed metal tip into his pisser, but it took some force to get it jammed down even a few inches. Droplets of blood seeped from the pisslips. I found myself grinning as I steadied the cock and then in a quick motion ripped the sound out. Kevin projectile vomited bile between my boots and was gasping and trying to clear his nostrils of the acidic fluids as I forced the sound back into his bleeding, wrecked cock. This time, I didn’t stop until the whole ten inch rod was inside of him. Only a thick ring at the end protruded, to which I attached one more electrode.
I cranked it on, and allowed the machine to do the work. It was mostly automated, sending shocks into his tits and cock, slowing cooking his most delicate parts as the voltage increased and the frequency, too. I was free to go back to flailing him from neck to ass. Yes, at least I was ready to destroy those perfect, globes, tearing the skin from them, and then slicing the muscle as well. Kevin’s neck was solid red with the blood channeling down his back, all the way up to his calves, and the backs of his knees (also torn open with a few precise blows).
Even the shocks cooking his cock inside out weren’t enough to stir him. I was starting to wear out from the exertion, too. Between those meaty gluten, there was still that bubbling mass of rectal tissue that I had extracted with my cock. With one high powered swiped, I brought the flail down over it and his taint. He was split wide open.
I released the winch and let him crumple down a few feet, now a bloody tangle of limbs with his head bent awkwardly under his chest. I turned off the electricity and peered down between his legs at the bleeding gash. Blood was still umping. He was still alive, but fading fast. I wanted to feel the last bit of him go. I wanted to feel it from inside. I pushed my hand down into the gash, into the torn remains of his rectum and then kept pushing. I think I had already perforated him with the truncheon, because I pretty easily felt my hand slip into his guts and saw it bulge out the front of his abs.
I geld still. Yep. There was still a slight palpitation of a heartbeat and breathing inside him. Who knows if he was conscious? It didn’t matter. What mattered is that I could feel it all happen. I pushed deeper, sinking my arm past the elbow into him, letting my fingers slide down toward his lungs, deeper until they hit a wall and I just pressed my hand flat against that wall. The palpitations weakened. My whole arm became a sensory organ, detecting the subtle fade of Kevin into non-existence.
I stroked my dick with my free hand, aiming it down at his face, soaked with blood and other fluids and staring glass-eyed up at me.
My orgasm was coming hard and fast, perfectly timed as his own essence ebbed away. I won’t say I came as he went. It was another shattering orgasm for me, one that doused his face in one last kind of fluid while the arm inside him flexed and tore every last intact part of him. By the time I was able to regain my thoughts, shake the sweet from my face and whoop victoriously, Kevin was no more.
Well, his existence as a sentient being was over. On a physical level, Kevin was all over the room and all over me. Clean up would be a mess, but I had time. I took a break to have a drink before coming back down. I can be a weak man, and before I knew it I had turned Kevin over on his stomach on the floor as was fucking that ass one last time. It was not a tight, smooth fuck to say the least. It was a god awful mess, but seeing that beautiful, cool ass quiver while I pounded it to rigor mortis was worth it. Totally worth it. I even flipped Kevin over and kissed his cold, bloody mouth. I had never done it before, but he was a special guy. And I’m pretty sure there was probably some mistletoe in my living room overhead.
Kevin’s disappearance caused a lot of concern, of course, mostly about the safety of the neighborhood. “Perhaps,” the neighbors all seemed say, aggrieved, “it’s still up and coming.” Everyone upped their security, but they had nothing to fear from me, anyways.
You might be happy to know that the cat was fine, in spite of Kevin’s abdication. I smashed a window from the outside, just to ensure the notion that whoever snatched Kevin was not familiar with the house. Whether or not it helped divert attention from me, it certainly allowed an escape route for the cat. It was one of those overly fluffy sorts that typically couldn’t last in the wild. You might have thought it was too spoiled to function. You’d be wrong. Two days after Kevin and I had our date, I saw it in my yard, feasting on a starling. That couldn’t have been an easy catch, but it managed. Some things are just made for the hunt. When I consider that…maybe I am a cat person after all.
