Mark studied the latest offering submitted for his review and set it aside as a "possible." It was actually pretty ingenious. You inserted a rod up into the prisoner's anus and when a control was depressed the end bloomed into a savage bulb of sharp projections to shred the inner guts while it heated up gradually to branding temperature. The man would die a slow, excruciating death from his internal injuries, bleeding, shock and elevated temperature. He liked the name suggested by the inventor...The Death Flower, but he worried it might be a bit too sophisticated a device.
The crowds paying good money to view the gala public executions in the new Huntsville arena liked get-down dirty violence. They came to see brutal killings of muscular young male bodies and blood. They liked to see it splatter or trickle or gush. Still, there was a certain erotic crowd appeal to doing things to a guy through his asshole, so he'd study it further, maybe even test it out soon on one of the boys he got to kill in private.
Mark publicly expressed sadness that it was necessary to do these "terrible" things to all these young men in the name of public order and protection. That was bullshit. He loved the killing. It turned him on powerfully as the handsome buff trustees who serviced his crotch after executions could verify. He had practically yelled aloud in joy the day the U.S. Supreme Court had upheld Texas Penal Law 765.8, the "Deterrence Through Example" voter initiative passed overwhelmingly two years ago.
It read pretty bluntly, typical of plain-spoken, Bible-thumping, blood-thirsty Texans:
Executions of condemned criminals shall be carried out in a mode designed to inflict severe suffering and humiliation to deter those of a similar proclivity. Executions of males over the age of twenty-one years shall be performed in public view and those under twenty-one in a private setting.Of course the do-gooders hit it with the usual lawsuits, expecting it to be stricken under the eighth amendment, but the court stunned everone with its decision in Scarborough vs.Texas. Cruel and unusual punishment prohibitions apply only to citizens, the court ruled, and since convicts lost their civil rights they were no longer full-fledged citizens. A state was free to execute a prisoner however it saw fit. Even Mark thought it was spurious, tortured reasoning...the court very simply had decided it wanted to uphold the law and found a loophole to do so. Nothin' really new in that...they'd been doing it for two hundred years.
Which was just fine by him! He would now be staging bloody public spectacles to entertain the "good" citizens of the lone star state. Recognizing he would be bringing in revenues from the shows and the follow-up video sales, he had been given a huge salary increase and all sorts of nice perks.
Pretty neat and deliciously ironic, he smiled to himself as his secretary buzzed him, getting paid damned well to do things he so utterly enjoyed that would otherwise have gotten his own ass thrown onto death row!
"Mr. Anderson, it's two o'clock. The prisoners for the two o'clock executions are awaiting disposition. The experimental devices have been set up and tested for readiness."The three boys waiting in the cage-like cells in the death house were eighteeners, pretty-faced, nicely muscled white youngsters and Mark licked his lips in anticipation as he viewed them. In a perverse sort of reverse racism he had found he enjoyed killing his own kind much more than the buff black and hispanic boys who formed the vast majority of the meat here.
Billy Joe Boggs, Nate Allen and Joshua Hammersly had committed a robbery six weeks before down in Brownsville. Time from crime to punishment in the US had been radically shortened by a series of reforms and the list of crimes approved for the death penalty lengthened. You formerly died only if you killed, but now "special circumstance" robberies, rapes and drug trafficing earned you a trip to Mark's little pleasure palace.
These three non-geniuses had made the mistakes of (A) using a weapon, (B) Acting in unison (accomplices) and (C) Causing a physical injury (the store clerk was knocked unconcious). Any single one would have permitted the finding of "special circumstances" by their sentencing judge; combined, they had made the teens toast from the moment they sat foot through the courthouse door.
"Morning, boys," Mark drawled. "Y'all ready to have your young asses killed? It's a bright sunny day out there, by the way. Most kids your age are on their way to the beach or lyin' in bed late after fuckin' their little hearts out with some chick all night long."He chuckled at the stricken looks on the three faces. They were naked, of course. All prisoners were now executed in the nude for the humiliation effect, even in the private legal murders. Big-hung mothers, all of them. Nice. He noticed that all three were semi-erect which he always found amusing. It was amazing how many men and boys became involuntarily aroused by their naked helplessness and approaching agony and death. He really loved that.
"Any of you lads swimmers? Like the water a lot? How 'bout you Nate?"The small but buff baby-faced blond kid swallowed hard and his voice trembled.
"Y...yes, s...sir. I g...guess I do okay in the w...water."Billy Joe was not enthusiastic but sullenly stepped from his cell and one of the specially selected sadist guards accompanying Deputy Warden Anderson cuffed his wrists behind his back. He was marched the short last walk down the hallway and through the heavy steel door into the room where he was to die. He stared at the strange-looking device awaiting him. It looked like some type of space weapon...maybe a ray gun. He shuddered, knowing, however it worked, it was not going to be fun, at least not for him. His guards were smiling eagerly and obviously relishing today's work.
"Great. I got something special for you. But first...let's see...yeah, let's do you first, Billy Joe. You're supposed to be a tough guy. Bet you've got a nice, tight little asshole lurking up inside the crack of that sweet bubble butt. Come on out, boy...it's killin' time!"
These fuckers are gettin' paid by tax dollars just to kill my sorry ass, he realized bitterly. Oh well. I knew what I was riskin' when I talked the guys into this stupid thing. The real rub...we only got $37.25 in the fuckin' heist!
Rather summarily he was strapped into a little elevated frame that forced him into an obscene semi-seated posture with his muscular jock legs widely parted and his butt jutting back. They were screwing around unnderneath him...Fuck!
The boy shuddered and his body flexed in powerful contractions as a thick metal tube was pressed against his sphincter and forced on up past the wildly protesting, spasm-wracked ass ring. Though far from as thick as a cock, the cold, steel tube hurt a lot as it invaded his virgin ass canal. As he flexed in pain, Billy Joe idly regretted now not accommodating any of his many buddies who'd wanted to stretch his asshole with their sex rods over the years. Despite himself, his damned cock had a mind of its own and was now jutting up in steely erection, oozing thick sticky beads of pre-cum from its lips.
Damn! Why didn't I jerk off this morning!
"Don't know if it interests you, Billy Joe," Mark grinned into the kid's sweating face, "But this little number was the brainchild of a retired engineer from Georgia. All it does, when triggered, is fire a small steel bolt pneumatically at high pressure, sorta like a bullet but at much lower velocity. You can adjust it's track into different areas of the body. Fired straight up, it'd rip through the lungs or heart and likely right up through your throat and mouth into your brain, maybe even exit out the top of your skull. Now that would kill you almost instantly and not actually hurt much, so we sure as hell aren't gonna do that!"Fuck you too, buddy, Billy Joe thought but wisely kept it inside.
"I'm aiming it towards your front abdominal wall just an inch or two above your pubic hair line. A gut shot. I imagine it's gonna rip the hell out of your innards before blasting its way free. Hurt's a man beyond imagination having his guts torn up like that, but it doesn't kill right away. You'll suffer for maybe five-ten minutes at least before you lose consciousness, maybe much longer if we're lucky...you do look like a nice, strong kid with a lot of staying power. Once you pass out, I want to test that upwards shot to finish you off. I really am curious whether the bolt will penetrate that thick, dumb skull of yours."Billy Joe cringed and gasped as he felt the tube rotating within his belly.
"Okay!" Mark called out, taking the pistol-like triggering handle in hand, "Everyone back off and clear away from his front. Don't want anyone getting hit by the exiting bolt. Video cameras running? Good clear view of his front? Great. Here we go!"He squeezed the trigger.
Billy Joe's demented scream echoed loudly in the room.
He bled copiously from the wound as he writhed within his bonds, continuing to scream and moan, and it was clear he wouldn't last long at all, but the brutal, stark violence of the process was spectacular. Mark knew at once he would be buying the patent rights for this device. He liked it...he liked it a lot...and he knew instinctively it would prove a crowd pleaser.
When Billy Joe lapsed into unconciousness, Mark pivoted the barrel within the ruined abdoman and fired it again. The body shook convulsively like a broken rag doll and blood suddenly gushed from its mouth and nose, but the bolt apparantly had spent enough energy that it failed to actually penetrate the top of the skull. Too bad, Mark thought, but it's still a great new showpiece.
While the staff cleaned up Billy Joe's mess and removed his corpse and the bolt-gun, a table was brought in and a small machine rolled beside it on a cart. When all was ready, Mark retrieved Josh Hammersly from his cell and they strapped the wavy-haired muscleboy onto the table, his legs parted. Electric devices were almost always a hit with the crowds and Mark had been intrigued by this new variety created by a cable repairman in Fort Collins, Colorado.
Time to see if it was as much fun as it seemed it might be. If so, Josh would die much more slowly than had Billy Joe. Mark watched the trembling kid on the table, getting hard as a rock again as he savored the killing to come. Extracting the life from a healthy, vibrant young guy was about the most intimate, personal exercise of absolute power imaginable and it never failed to arouse him and give him goosebumps.
There were a series of long, thin needles as electrodes and he took his time piercing them through the most sensitive parts of Josh's hard body. He forced them through each of the big nipples, skewered each of the low-hung goose-egg balls, ran one up the boy's thick, hardened cock and inserted another into his asshole. Others he slid through folds of skin and muscle just above each knee and at each elbow. Josh finally screamed when that was done.
Funny what gets to a particular guy, Mark mused, I would've thought he'd scream when I nailed those big, fuckin' balls of his.
"Well, now, Josh, buddy," Mark lovingly caressed one of the hard, corded thighs, "This is all automated. I just select a level of juice and particular terminals in sequence and the machine does the rest while I sit back and enjoy the show. We want you to fry real slow so let's start at the lowest level...let's see...we'll run it from your right knee to your cock, nodes three and seven. Then from your asshole, number six, to your left tit, number five."
He completed the programming, setting a gradual escalation of electro-torture until eventually a killing shot would be fired with the electricity blasting full-force from virtually all terminals at once to freeze his lungs, crush his heart into putty and fry his brain..
He switched it on.
It was all Mark could do to avoid creaming his pants as he watched. One of the guards did lose it and with an embarrassed gasp clutched desperately at his bulging, twitching crotch to hide the tell-tale wet circle rapidly forming in the denim.
When fifteen minutes of abject suffering ended with the last spectacular death jolt, it was almost anticlimactic. That last pyrotechnic display reminded Mark of the finale at fourth of July fireworks shows when a salvo of crackers were fired in tandem.
Whew, Mark mopped his sweaty brow, That was really something!
And there was no particular mess to clean up, though powerful fans had to be activated to suck away the lingering stench of burned flesh that wafted in the air.
Then Nate was brought from the death cells and strapped to a wooden post in a kneeling position. A plexi-glass globe was fitted around his handsome head, a rubberized gasket locked tightly around his throat to preclude escape of air...or, more importantly, water. It was a sort of reverse diver's helmut through which the teen was to be subjected to a hideously slow death.
To keep him from suffocating, an air exchange system inside the bell kept his breathing just fine.
He sucked in water, bubbles of his last air bursting about his face from his mouth and nose, and finally, after more than a half hour of waiting, the inevitable that he had known would occur at last began. His death by drowning.
This one, created by a housewife in Decatur, Alabama, was a definite keeper.
He returned to his office and found Chip Spears, a deliciously cute blond trustee waiting for him, already naked and fully aroused.
"You gonna fuck me or have me suck you today, sir?" the grinning prisoner asked in his ballsy young voice.
"Both," Mark panted as he all but ripped off his uniform. "This was a hot session out there and I've got terminal blue balls. Suck me until I tell you to stop and then I'm gonna fuck the living hell out of that tight little asshole of yours."
"Yes, sir," Chip replied respectfully even as he dutifully dropped to his knees before the deputy-warden.
Mark sighed with pleasure as the wet, warm mouth closed around his swollen cock.
Oh yes, he thought, I must have the greatest job on earth!