Goodwin Prescott's
for larger image, click on the photo

Mark sat quietly by the bar in Quentin's huge ski condo watching the party swirl all around him. Quent's place was always the heart of the social life at the small, luxurious ski lodge buried deep in Colorado's mountains. Accessible only by helicopter, it was essentially a private men's club with membership fees that eliminated all but a relatively wealthy elite.

It catered to those of all sexual orientations, but there was a decidedly gay overtone to the place. Straights were welcome along with their female companions but it was understood they would respect the tastes of all of those around them. In turn, the activities of the gay majority were conducted with discretion and good taste behind closed doors.

Behind those doors, just about anything was permitted. There was no police presence on the mountain, although a small force of tough private security guards were employed for protection. They saw nothing and heard nothing.

Quent, a wealthy, powerful computer-chip tycoon, was gay, as was Mark, and his parties always had that aura about them. The waiters and bar-boys were always just a bit more young, handsome and well-built than chance would ever dictate. The small army of hunk "ski instructors" buzzing around the room were known to be more than readily available for private "lessons" and "consultations" with Quent's guests. Expensive "tips" were expected of course.

Mark occasionally indulged himself with one of the super-hunks on hand but secretly was revolted at ever paying for sex. He would never even be tempted if some of these boy-bulls weren't so utterly, incredibly perfect and hot.

That was certainly the case with Jiri, whom he was eyeing at the moment. The twenty-two year old Czech was just magnificent. You could tell his physical perfection despite the loose-fitting, silky gym suit he was wearing. He was tall, well over six foot, with a boyish face that oozed sensual charm. Fucking dimples no less! The fawn-brown eyes were liquid and lively beneath his thick brows and lashes that were, like his neatly groomed, medium-length hair, a lustrous dark brown. He was, in short, a stone fox.

"Nice one, that Jiri," a friendly voice broke through his reverie. "But you're going to burn a hole in his clothes if you keep staring at him that intently."
Mark laughed and turned his gaze on his host. Quent was getting on a bit, the silver glinting in his dark hair at the temples, though like all of them he kept in admirable shape. Mark was one of the younger of the crowd, a multi-millionaire by inheritance, not much older than Jiri at age twenty-six and proud of the peak condition of his own strong, tall body.

He knew that many of those around him secretly wanted to bed him, but he had steadily rebuffed all hints and attempts at seduction. That, he knew, had gotten him dubbed "the ice king" behind his back, but that only amused him.

The truth was he was attracted only to younger men in their late teens and early twenties. He was not sure why that was, but it was. He suspected it had to do with the complexities of his turbulent relationship with his own despised father and then, after his death, the even more despised step-father.

He probably associated older men with them and that was a hell of a turn-off. He had often wondered idly if Quent was attracted to him, but, if so, the genial playboy had never attempted to act upon those urges.

"I may go create a hole in his clothes with my hands shortly," Mark responded. "He is certainly one fine young hunk of manhood."
Quent nodded, sipping from his own drink as Mark lifted his to his lips, swirling the rich bourbon around over the ice-cubes for a moment. Quent fastidiously wiped his lips with a napkin before speaking again.
"The management of the resort has added a number of nice young stallions to their stable of ski bums passing as instructors this year. I must compliment them on their recruitment activities. Very international.
xxxx"There's our young Czech friend and then a truly delicious Norwegian doll. A German pup worth chasing all over the slopes too. Some of our more aggressive satyrs have those two cornered across the room and I may have to rescue them before they get gang raped amidst the dips and chips."

"One could hope for that to occur, I suppose," Mark responded, straight-faced.

Quent chuckled,
"Your horns are showing, my friend. Well, I must be off, circulating to keep an eye on my guests lest they steal the silverware. Oh ... you might find the activities underway in the small den most arousing. Herr Bloch has induced a couple of my more open-minded waiters to provide some amusement. These modern boys will do anything for a big tip!"
There was an instant stirring from deep within Mark's being at those words. Bloch was a brute of a German banker with notoriously sadistic tastes that he made no effort to disguise. The problem was that Mark secretly knew himself to be of the same persuasion.

He just did not act out his own impulses and fantasies. The "civilized" part of him that was in control was aghast at causing pain for the erotic sexual pleasure that could induce. Even worse was the part of Mark's "other" half that got the most incredible pleasure out of the concept of actually killing another buff, fit young human bull. Sometimes these primitive, competitive, predatory urges coupled into his sex drive truly alarmed Mark.

But he could not resist the call to pleasure from at least the observation of the sort of entertainment practiced by Bloch, It was going to go on regardless, so there was no harm in his passive participation as a voyeur. He took his drink and ambled towards the private den.

for a larger image, click on the drawing
print that image
click again to come back here
On the way he passed the corner where the two gorgeous ski bums mentioned by Quent ... Knut and Kristian, the Norwegian and German muscle-boys ... were indeed surrounded by a crowd of admirers.

The two, wearing the casual type of attire that was standard for Quent's parties, were displaying a bit more than their handsome faces. They had peeled down their upper clothing and bared strikingly beautiful chests and abs, almost shamelessly advertising and teasing. The taller Nordic hunk was a magnificent sight and the stockier German kid had a chest to die for.

Mark caught his breath. My God they were superb! He was sorely tempted to pause a while to see if the two were coaxed into removing even more clothing, but feared missing Bloch's little orgy in the den. Reluctantly he forced himself to move on.

He wasn't disappointed. As usual Bloch had hired a pair of really fine studs to sate his lusts. A small crowd of like-minded (or at least curious) men were watching with heated interest, many openly pawing their bulging crotches, a few even groping each other as they watched.

for a larger image, click on the drawing
print that image
click again to come back here
A sandy-haired boy of perhaps eighteen or nineteen was being brutally fucked from behind by a dark-haired jock who might have been a year or two older. Both were naked and wonderfully built. Each thrust of the dark-haired boy's hips practically raised his partner off his feet as he stood there with his corded legs widely parted, his face contorted with the pain as he was plowed hard and deep. His own cock was jutting out of his furry crotch like a steel spear, oozing thick beads of pre-cum, his balls churning around in stark outline in their sac.

Judging from the patterns of welts rising angrily in both sets of thighs, the duo had been required to whip each other at length as a foreplay to their mating. Mark assumed the tight bubble butts would display similar patterns of deep welting. He was sorry he'd missed seeing that but his pulse quickened as he noted the thin satin cord that was looped loosely around the sandy-haired kid's thick neck.

Oh yes, he thought to himself, I hope that means what I think.

As the stallion in charge became more and more transported by his fevered lust, he took the ends of the cord in his hands. His powerful arms flexed as he began to draw it taut around his partner's throat and strangle him.

Though he was unbound, the boy made no effort to interfere with his strangulation even as his face turned red and then bluish and his chest heaved powerfully as he sought to gulp air into his tortured lungs. You could hear his wheezing all over the room and every muscle in the fine, lean body was corded like steel beneath his smooth, velvet skin

Deep spasms raced through his convulsing cock as it seemed to just get harder as his life was threatened.

Oh fuck yes, Mark moaned inwardly, his crotch burning as he became aroused to a fever pitch, GO ON! Strangle him! Snuff his ass for us! DO IT!!!

Of course, he was well aware it would not go that far. But the erotic fantasy being acted out almost caused him to cream his pants. In moments, the dark-haired stud uttered a guttural moan and froze as his loins erupted into orgasm deep inside the flexing, twisting body of his victim.

At that, the sandy-haired boy reached his own pulsing orgasm from the powerful stimulation of his strangulation, shooting thick dollops of his cream far out from his crotch. He had never so much as touched his own genitals in the process.

He had been choked nearly to unconsciousness and lay on the floor gagging and gasping after the cord was removed, but recovered with surprising speed. He had an angry red welt around his smooth-skinned neck that would probably show for several days. As Mark left the den, almost aching with his own pent-up needs, he hoped the boy had gotten a good fee out of the German. He'd put on a hell of a good show for them.

The Norse Viking and the German wonderkind were both gone when he returned to the main hall. He wondered who had been successful in hiring their talents for the night. Had Jiri still been around he'd have been hard pressed not to make the Czech hunk an offer, but there was no sign of him.

It was just as well. Mark had made a strong vow not to ever buy sex again and hated being tempted to show weakness and break it. It had been a New Year's resolution and this was just January l0th! Surely he could make it to at least February before giving in.


Resigned to heading back to his own plush, though more modest, condo and jerking off, Mark first made a pit stop in the bathroom. He almost moaned with mixed delight and frustration as he saw that Jiri was in there washing his hands. The boy glanced up into the mirror and their eyes met. He flashed a smile that would have melted steel ... damn dimples anyway!

"Hello," Jiri said in a warm ballsy voice with only a trace of a Slavic accent.

"Can the small talk," Mark almost growled, amazed at himself even as he heard the words pour forth. "I think you're one of the best-looking guys I've ever seen. I'm heading for my place and I'm hornier than hell. If you wanna come with me, I'd like to fuck your eyes out."

Jiri looked a bit stunned, but recovered quickly. His eyes swiftly ran over Mark's form and he obviously liked what he saw. He shrugged his powerful, broad shoulders.
"Several men have asked me about that tonight, not quite as honestly, and I told them no. But with you I am thinking ... why not."
Thus, just minutes later after a brief walk through the dark night, Mark found himself gazing with awe at Jiri's rippling, sculpted upper body after he stripped off the top part of the work-out suit. He ran his hands over the creamy skin stretched so taut over the granitic underlying muscles and luxuriated in the delicious warmth radiating with a pulsing throb from the hardened flesh.

He nursed at length on the Slavic tits and even lightly nibbled at them. In turn, he shuddered in ecstasy as Jiri stripped him, one item of clothing at a time with a long pause while strong, gentle fingers caressed each new exposed area and the warm, wet mouth kissed and licked with maddening effect. He was good. He was very good.

And as Jiri's tongue continued to strive to make Mark climb the walls with pleasure, he upgraded that last thought. The Czech doll wasn't just very good. He was damned fucking great!

After he was naked, Mark found himself crying out as Jiri knelt before him and did utterly exquisite things between his legs with his mouth and fingers. It was all he could do to hold back his explosion. After a bit, Jiri rose and faced away from him, pressing his butt against Mark's loins.

He was still clad just in the work-out pants, the buttons popped all along the sides to reveal luscious curves of his magnificent legs. He was clearly wearing nothing underneath. The effect was incredibly erotic. Mark reached down and unsnapped the button on one side of Jiri's hips and let the cloth flap back behind him to bare the smooth orbs of the tight, dimpled ass. His turgid rod slipped into the cleft seeking the entry. And found it. Jiri's sphincter tried briefly to resist the impalement but failed; Mark thrust inch by inch on up into the Czech's clutching gut and just about swooned with the sensation as the steely muscles clutched tightly around his invading organ.

for a larger image, click on the drawing
print that image ... click again to come back here
.As he slowly undulated his hips, sliding his pole in and out of Jiri's pulsing, contracting hole, Mark slipped a hand around the front of the hunk jock's body and caressed his belly just above the crotch. Jiri probably liked the gentle, affectionate caressing movement. He could not know that Mark was imagining what it would be like to have a knife in that hand and to be reaching with his other hand to seize the huge genitals.

He would then stretch them ... drawing the vulnerable neck out nice and taut. Then bring down the gleaming razor-sharp blade of the small carving knife to position it against that neck. And then ... OH YES! Then begin the cutting ... the castration ... even as he continued to fuck the bull-boy! He would luxuriate in the blood as it coursed over his fingers, the shuddering flinches of excruciating pain in the powerful, virile, perfect young body under his control ... hear the choking little screams as Jiri felt himself unmanned ... doing nothing to stop it, not interfering in any way with Mark's quest for pleasure....

With a convulsive moan Mark reached a most satisfying orgasm. It seemed to go on and on and on. It was always that deep and satisfying when he imagined doing such terrible, forbidden things to his partner

He always felt deep pangs of guilt afterwards. Partly to assuage that he proceeded to give Jiri head at length putting all of his considerable skill into the effort to please the young stud. Judging from the depth of the Czech's own throbbing climax down Mark's gulping throat, his efforts were most successful.

There had been no discussion of a suitable "tip" but Mark was not a miser. He was bothered at the principle of hiring a source of satisfaction for his loins, not at the cost. Nor did he ever resent the young man involved and take it out on him.  He was just earning a living in a rough world using the assets nature had bestowed upon him.

He gave Jiri five hundred dollars and was pleased at how delighted the kid looked. It was pretty much double the usual going rate for a full night of the charms of one of the resident ski hunks. To the young eastern European it probably was a small fortune. He got a long, wet kiss in return and an assurance that Jiri would be available anytime he was wanted. For anything the boy assured.

After Jiri left, Mark fixed another drink and sat watching the crackling flames in his fireplace. He heaved a sated, satisfied sigh. It felt SO good now between his legs. What the hell ... screw the resolution. He had no regrets at hiring Jiri. There was always next January for a new resolution.

He was still not at all sleepy and it was not brutally cold out as there was no wind. He glanced at the window and realized a full moon was beginning to rise over the mountains, bathing the pine-studded landscape in a soft glowing brightness. It took nothing more to convince him to go for a short hike before trying to go to bed. He dressed warmly and went out, striding briskly along a shoveled path leading towards the ski lifts.

After a bit, just as he drew close to the last buildings in the complex ... stores and restaurants that were shuttered and closed ... he realized he was not alone. A low rumble of voices came from a small alley between the buildings.

He sensed anger and conflict in the words though he could not quite make them out. He slowed and moved cautiously, hoping to avoid interrupting some lover's quarrel underway. But then he heard a deep grunt and gasping moan and the unmistakable thud of a fist hitting home.

He moved quickly then, stepping out into the alley. The moonlight illuminated a startling scene.

There were four of them. Two were holding a third while their companion punched him. He doubled the prisoner with a solid punch to the gut.

"Enough screwing around," one of the guys holding the victim muttered nervously, "Let's just waste him and get the fuck outa here."

"Probably a good idea," the beater agreed, and picked up a steel bar from the snowy ground. "Hold him steady. I should be able to do him with one blow."

Shit!! Mark cursed himself. I could be curled in my warm bed with a dirty book. But NO here I am having to play fucking hero! I'm probably gonna get my skull caved in for my trouble.

It was to his credit that the thought never occurred to Mark to just back off and walk away. Three on one was not fair play and no matter what the captured guy might have done, he probably didn't deserve to be beaten to death.

They hadn't spotted Mark and that gave him an advantage. He hit the guy with the bar hard from behind bowling him over and sending him flying. He threw a kick at the crotch of one of the holders and missed but caught him hard enough in the inner thigh to hurt. With a curse that thug let go of the arm he was holding so tightly to grab at his smarting leg.

As always in such affairs, things moved with blinding speed. Prisoner punched his other guard hard on the jaw with his now free fist, putting him into a stagger backwards. The guy Mark had kicked threw a bone-jarring punch at Mark's head that grazed his jaw just enough to slightly stun him.

Then that guy let out a screech of pain and dropped like a rock as he took another kick, this one from the freed prisoner whose booted blow was right on target into the bulge between his legs. Then with a cry, the prisoner made a flying leap directly at Mark.

Christ! He thinks I'm one of them! Mark thought.

But even as he was struck and thrust backwards, Mark sensed the incoming stroke of the steel rod whistling towards his head. The third fighter had recovered and launched his own assault. The incoming pipe was shielded from Mark's head only by the arm of the prisoner.

It took the full force of the blow across the side of the limb just below the elbow. Mark heard the sound and knew without any doubt, even before the guy went down and screamed, the arm had been broken.

Enraged, Mark threw himself at the pipe-wielder and put him low with a series of punches of a ferocity that he had never before emitted. He turned to be sure the other two were still down. They were, one about half giddy with the blow he had taken to the jaw, the other still writhing in a snowdrift and clutching his crotch. He was about to start in on the pipe-guy again, but all the fight was gone from that one too. Mark seized up the bar and held it menacingly over the moaning, terrified guy.

"You're real brave without your damn pipe, huh? You even think of moving and I'll fucking bash your head into putty!"

"Watch the one I kicked. He's got a pistol under his parka," the ex-prisoner groaned from the ground as he clutched his broken arm with his good hand.

"Not for long," a voice cut the darkness along with a flashlight's strong beam.

Two burly security guards, guns drawn, were coming down the alley,
"And if you'll kindly drop the pipe, buddy, we'll all take a little walk to the security office to figure out just what the hell's going on here."
One of the small automatic pistols was aimed at his belly and Mark wasted no time in complying with the request.

Identifying himself, he being a well-known, regular guest, gave Mark credibility with the guards and they cuffed the three he indicated should be watched. A nasty-looking 0.25 caliber Baretta automatic pistol complete with a silencer was retrieved from the one prisoner.

The injured man was treated gently and Mark gave him a helping arm around his shoulders as they went to the office. There it was determined that the skin of the arm was not broken so a few minutes delay in taking him to the infirmary would not cause a problem. He was asked to relate his story.

Mark was startled. In the bright light of the office, his coat removed, the guy he had saved turned out to be very young ... late teens probably ... but very masculine with a powerful, stocky build. He was boyishly handsome with tightly curled dark brown hair.

He said his name was Aaron Seligman. One impressive, good-looking hunk of young Jewish manhood Mark mused as he watched the boy. He was a cook in one of the eateries. The others were similarly employed. That evening, he had accidently overheard their plotting to kidnap Quentin by seizing him and his helicopter at gunpoint as he prepared to leave the next day. They would make his pilot fly them to an abandoned ranch that one of them knew about. They would demand a huge ransom. Once it was paid, they would kill both Quentin and the pilot.

"Like an idiot, I knocked over something as I tried to slink away but they heard me and grabbed me. If this gentleman hadn't come along, I would now be very dead in that alley. They planned to hide my body in a snowdrift so I wouldn't be found before they seized Mr. Garland and his pilot. They ... they were laughing about killing him. The guy with the pipe was bragging how he's killed before and gotten by with it."

"You fucking little snitch," that guy snarled. "They won't keep me in jail too long ... and when I get out I'll find you no matter where you are and then you're fucking dead meat, man! I'll gut you like a fish!"

Mark had been looking at the three prisoners. All were young, Mr. pipe about early twenties, another probably about the same age, the third really just a boy ... pretty faced and well-built ... about Aaron's age. He didn't look too bright and there was a mean look to the blue eyes.

The others were also well-built with good, solid, hard-muscled bodies. If they weren't such murderous little shits they'd probably make nice sex partners. Too bad. Such a waste of nice, sexy bodies and handsome good-looks on such useless personalities.

The security people were satisfied and locked the three goons in the small holding cells of the station. As they took Aaron to have his arm set and cast, one of them sighed.

"The loud-mouthed punk may be right. They'll have charges of conspiracy to kidnap, as well as kidnaping of young Mr. Seligman here by taking him to the alley and aggravated assault upon both him and you. Maybe attempted murder.
xxxx"But if they have clean records, being as young as they are, they really won't go away all that long I'm afraid. Our laws aren't that tough. I suppose they'll eventually get out. With their mind-set, someone innocent will get in their way and get killed."

"Probably me," Aaron grunted, grimacing as a jolt of pain echoed from his arm as he stumbled slightly on the steps into the infirmary.

"Not while I have any say in that," Mark replied, tightening his protective grip around the boy's broad, strong shoulders.

The guards glanced at each other in a speculative way. Then one drew Mark aside as the other accompanied Aaron on into the infirmary.
"Really, sir ... those three are bad news. I've seen their type before. Utterly wasted human beings. Dangerous, rabid little animals.
xxxx"Plus our bosses will be really unhappy about all the bad publicity since Mr. Garland is one of the richest men in America. He probably won't like the publicity either, plus some other idiot might get the bright idea of trying something like this.
xxxx"We are pretty isolated up here. They'll probably have to beef up security which none of you will like.
xxxx"Something tells me too at a trial these punks will try to make a big deal of the overall gay nature of this place, maybe even claim they were being forced into 'bad' things and were just trying to sort of defend themselves and take some deserved revenge.  Get a few homophobes on the jury and who knows what the result might be. Even outright acquittal.
xxxx"Now, if you wanted ... we could sort of forget what we saw and heard tonight. Tell the doc that Aaron just fell and broke his arm in the dark. Not have the police come pick the three punks up at all."
Mark was puzzled,
"What? You mean, just let them go free...."

"Not at all. We'd just go to bed leaving the keys to the cells on the desk along with that one punk's loaded pistol, conveniently equipped with a silencer. It's probably stolen anyway.
xxxx"The café where they work will be pissed when they don't show up but a lot of the hired help just comes and goes without much notice. It'll be assumed they caught the early A.M. supply chopper into the city.
xxxx"We'll go to their room and quietly gather up any of their things. There's a deep ravine way back up in the mountains. If three bodies were dropped in from our security chopper in the early dawn along with their belongings and the gun, the likelihood of their ever being found is pretty slim.
xxxx"And even then, just three more unsolved killings on the books."

Mark was truly stunned ... profoundly shocked ... at the suggestion being made so boldly. It was vigilantism of the first order, straight out of the old west or a Charles Bronsson flick. But he realized quickly that it made so damned much sense.

It would cost the state a fortune just to try the three and then to house them in a prison at better than thirty grand a year, assuming they were convicted considering the explosive gay issue. Eventually they'd get out regardless ... that much more hardened and dangerous ... and some innocent party ... another Quentin or the like ... would pay the ultimate penalty.

Then the state would end up putting them to death anyway after spending a million dollars and years on endless appeals. Hell, they might even come after him as well as Aaron. Further, there was sure nothing to be gained from a lot of publicity about this so far as their tidy, quiet little gay ski Mecca was concerned. Quent certainly would not enjoy the publicity, even as a victim. He prized his privacy.

And there was something else. A warm glow began to throb in Mark's veins at the mere thought of ... killing. Actually killing these three one after the other. Having the God-like power of life and death over them. And the wonderful beauty of it was that he could do it with a clean conscience. These three richly deserved to die. They NEEDED killing!

"If I'm out of line, sir, I'd appreciate you forgetting what I suggested. I'm afraid I'd have to deny it if you ever...."

"No. It's cool," Mark interrupted. "I just had to think about it a while. I think you're right. It does make good sense. You heard the threat to that poor kid Aaron. He'll never be able to feel safe again as long as they live. I'll ... speak to the boy. He has to agree or it can't be done. His silence is necessary."

Mark was not too surprised that Aaron had hardly to think about his answer.
"I'm no killer, sir. I could never be involved in ... executing ... them like that. But I agree it should be done. You saved my ass out there tonight and damn near got killed for it. I'd never betray you. You have my word."
Taking his cue from some tacit communication with his partner, the guard attending Aaron had already told the doctor that Aaron had taken a bad fall and landed with his arm on the edge of a concrete step. He efficiently treated the arm, ascertaining that it was a clean break that should heal easily and completely.

In short order the arm was housed in a cast from just below the elbow to the wrist. The guards gave Mark a key to the outer door of the security office and headed for the dorm barracks where the three would-be killers had been living.

The die was cast.

"Uh, sir," the chief guard smiled grimly just before he left them. "Just be aware ... there's no particular need so far as we're concerned that these three die particularly easy deaths ... you know ... if you want to have a little fun with them first, it's okay. Just so long as we have the bodies at some point before dawn."
Mark took Aaron back to his own condo to bed him down in the guest room.
"I could stay in my own room in the dorm. I'll be okay," Aaron protested.
But the way his eyes glowed as he looked around the plush condo told a different tale. Mark almost laughed.
"Look, Aaron ... you said I saved your life tonight. I guess I did. But then you returned the favor. You took the blow meant for me and it cost you. That took guts and it made us even. It also made us friends. I intend to take care of you. You're staying here until that arm heals and then we'll talk about your future."
Aaron, who was rapidly coming under the daze of the pain killers he'd been given, offered no more protest. Mark helped strip him for bed and marveled at the beauty of the cleanly sculpted, smooth body that was revealed as the bulky clothes came off. He slipped the hard muscled form beneath the thick mantle of covers and cushioned the curly head in a downy pillow.
"I'll be ... out ... for a bit, Aaron. Just get to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"You're going to go ... do ... it ... now aren't you?"

Mark nodded,
"Unless you tell me no. One last chance if it bothers you too much."
The boy shook his head,
"No. Go do it. Just do me a favor. Snuff the youngest guy first and do it pretty fast. He's about my age and that bothers me some. I doubt he'd have gotten into this without the bad influence of that guy with the pipe. He's the real bad egg."
And that suited Mark fine. He'd made the same value call already. Besides he needed to prove to himself he actually could kill. If he could do that baby-faced kid, snuffing the other two would be a breeze.

He unlocked the door to the security office and found the cell keys and pistol where they were supposed to be waiting. He unlocked the cell of the boy, who sat up on the bunk where he'd been drowsing. He'd stripped to his boxers and the body was just as hot and sexy as Mark had guessed. He started getting very hard at the prospect of what he was about to do. The power trip he was about to experience for the first time.

He knew their names from their id's in the confiscated wallets.

"Come along out back with me, Kevin. There's something we need to do. No ... don't take your clothes. You won't need them. In fact, strip off those boxers. Let's see how well hung you are."
It took a few threats with the pistol to gain compliance but eventually the boxers came off. Kevin was very nicely endowed between his thighs. Mark guided the naked teen into the heated shed next to the security office that housed the work vehicles. Waving the pistol, he ordered him to kneel down on the dirt floor. Slowly, Kevin complied.
"Kevin, all I want you to do is to jerk off for me."

"What! Come on! I can't...."

"Yes, Kevin, you can. And you will. Because if you don't, I am going to start shooting you in very painful parts of your body, starting with your knees. They say that it is unbelievable how much it hurts."

Kevin obviously believed the threat for his hands went to his crotch. It took him a while to get his huge cock up but gradually it filled with blood and began to swell and rise and harden. It was a gorgeous tool with a magnificently flared crown head.

Soon Kevin's stroking fist had it twitching and bobbing and oozing a steady leak of lubricating pre-cum. The boy began to really get into it after a bit as he strained to fire his load. He almost seemed to forget that Mark was there kneeling beside him, watching as he masturbated.

Mark was breathing hard, one hand massaging the great bulge in his own crotch. A hot wave of pleasure was rippling through him like an electric current. He had such utter, total control over this gorgeous young stud. He was his to dispose of at his whim ... existing only for Mark's pleasure at this moment.

Yes, Mark filled his mind with heated words. YES! Stroke that cock. Kevin. Fire off a big load of seed rich cum for me. Do it because I require you to. Come on, get it off. Yeah! You're getting close ... so close. And when you ejaculate....

for a larger image, click on the drawing
print that image
click again to come back here
The silenced pistol came slowly up and Mark steadied it in both hands, the muzzle just inches from behind Kevin's left ear.
"UHHH! Here it comes! HEEERRE I come, man!"
Kevin howled as his body flexed powerfully. The first thick gob of his white gism came forth in a hard driven spurt.

And at that precise moment, playing God, Mark squeezed the trigger of the pistol.


There was a slight recoil and the muted, harsh spit of the silencer. Kevin's head was hammered and seemed to explode. He was thrown aside violently and uttered no cry, just a loud sort of grunting noise as when you get punched in the belly. He collapsed like a broken rag doll and lay still.

Mark had to fight powerfully to hold back his loins. He came so close to orgasm that he thought for sure he was going to pop his load. He didn't want that. That was being saved.

He was amazed. It had been so incredibly easy! And such an exciting, satisfying experience, every bit as great as he had ever imagined. He could never have pulled the trigger on a guy who didn't deserve it, but being free to do it by knowing it was the correct thing to do made it truly exhilarating.

And he could hardly wait to do the second prisoner ... the one called Eddy. He'd had some minor sympathy for Kevin because of his tender age. He had none for Eddy or for Greg, the one with the pipe whom he saving for last.

Eddy and Greg were in cells facing each other. Kevin had been isolated off on the far side of the building in a separate cell and the older pair were unaware he had been removed and executed. They too had stripped to their shorts and were trying to sleep. When Mark unlocked Eddy's cell, Greg came to his barred door.

"What the fuck is going on? Where are the fucking guards?"

"You fucking like that word, don't you," Mark chuckled. "Well you both better fucking well do exactly as I say or I'll put some fucking bullet holes in your fucking asses. Now you just be a good little thug Greg and don't be going anywhere until I come back for you in a bit."

Eddy, trembling slightly and clad just in his briefs, offered no resistence as hands cuffed behind his back, he was led at gunpoint out to the shed. Figuring the sight of Kevin's body might set off a panic in the next victim, Mark had dragged the boy back out of sight behind a snowmobile.

The smell of his blood still hovered on the air inside the shed but Eddy didn't seem to notice. Instead his eyes were drawn to the noose dangling about chest-high from the tines of a forklift.

Really trembling now, the blond hunk ... taller and slimmer than stocky young Kevin had been ... stood where ordered and permitted the noose to be snugged around his neck. Mark was intrigued. He had expected more fight from these guys.

He was experiencing firsthand the strange human phenomenon that people, confronted with a show of force, will go passively to execution rather than resist and incur the consequences of the offered force (as with the concentration camp victims of the Nazis or the villagers massacred on both sides in Bosnia and Kosovo more recently ... or, graphically ... the millions of victims of the killing fields of Pol Pot's Cambodia). In the instant situation, these guys perhaps hoped that somehow Mark really would not kill them if they cooperated, whereas he probably would use the pistol if they fought.

Another critical psychological factor, that Mark didn't fully understand, was the nudity or near nudity of the prisoner. A naked man usually feels incredibly vulnerable and defenseless and is far less likely to offer resistence.

Mark could sense the raw fear in Eddy just he had in Kevin and that was like a powerful intoxicant. He loved it.

He left Eddy in place, standing cuffed and noosed, and fetched Greg from his cell. Greg did act like he was going to put up a ruckus when Mark told him to turn and put his hands behind his back to be cuffed. He cocked and aimed the silenced pistol directly at Greg's male bulge in his shorts.

"Try to imagine how a bullet there is going to feel. Of course, maybe I'm just bluffing. Maybe I won't really shoot you at all at the end of a count of three. How much of a gambler are you, punk?"


"OKAY!" Greg lost his nerve. "Fuck you!"

He turned and let Mark slap the cuffs on his wrists. The muzzle of the pistol nudging the small of his back, he was taken out to the shed. His eyes grew big when he saw Eddy standing there with that noose about his neck.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, man? You can't be fucking doing this crap to us! We ... we got rights!"

"Right now," Mark said, "I seem to be able to define the 'rights' you have, since I happen to have the gun. I expect you to do exactly what I say. It really is a very attractive thought to me to give you a 0.25 caliber castration."

There was a large rack in the shed used for drying tarps and equipment covers. It consisted of a series of evenly spaced steel rods framed between two sidebars that were in turn mounted on a set of vee legs. The frame was free-moving on the legs so it could be positioned at any angle desired ... horizontal, vertical or anywhere in-between ... and then locked in place. Greg was made to stand with his back to the rods.
"Spread your legs wide apart and keep them there," Mark ordered, jabbing the young bull's gut with the pistol to emphasize the threat. Greg gave him a furious look of sheer hatred but did as he was told.
Going behind Greg, Mark slipped a loop of rope around the guy's neck and quickly tied it to the bar behind his head. Any real struggle now would choke him. He seized an ankle and roped it, then drew it to the lowest bar, raising it a few inches off the ground, and secured it.

He repeated the process with the second ankle. Then he did the knees, bowing them out to render the punk's crotch as completely open and vulnerable as possible. Finally, he undid the cuff on one wrist and snapped it to a bar.

He was expecting the swing from the freed arm and laughed as he ducked the useless, belated resistence from the pinioned jock. He grabbed the arm and easily restrained it, binding it with rope to a bar to Greg's side. Then he uncuffed the remaining wrist and tied it down.

Greg was now deliciously, tightly bound to the rack. He looked incredibly erotic like that, especially as furious as he obviously was. This was a guy used to being in charge and he didn't like being completely at Mark's whims like this. Utterly, totally helpless.

He really wasn't going to like what came next.

Mark slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of his prisoner's tighty-whitey briefs. With a harsh wrench, he ripped them away to expose Greg's substantial male endowment. He felt lucky. All three of his prizes were unusually huge hung which was making this particularly satisfying. He reached down and began to stroke Greg's dormant tool.

"Stop that, you fucking fag!" Greg bellowed in rage. "I swear to God I'm gonna kill you for this!!"

"I don't think so," Mark responded quietly.

Something in his voice obviously sent a chill down Greg's spine and he shuddered. Or maybe the shudder was from the sensations between his thighs. Mark was a real expert at arousing other males and Greg was hotly sexed.

He proved unable to resist as Mark's fingers moved deftly over his cock and played with his big balls, rolling them around in their sac. He bucked and flexed and cursed as Mark caressed and then fingered his tight little ass-hole, but his rod rose slowly and steadily until he was displaying a throbbing, bobbing full-scale boner.

And he stayed hard as Mark began to bind his genitals with a thin length of hemp cord. Around and around the cock it went until the organ had disappeared within its casing from just below the flared crown to its base. One of his balls was forced into the bottom of the sac to one side and rope looped around to isolate it. The other ball was similarly isolated. The twin orbs, starkly outlined in the stretched skin of the bound scrotum, were already turning a deep ruddy shade from their confinement.

Mark stood back, admiring his work and enjoying watching Greg squirm around in the discomfort from his tightly roped manhood.
"Now just hold that pose for a while and watch as I take care of Eddy over there."
Eddy was by far the best looking of the three ... though Kevin had been deliciously cute. Eddy was truly handsome and his tall, smooth body sexy as hell. When Mark divested him of his shorts, he was pleased at the hunk's equipment. He reached down and began to manipulate Eddy too ... seeking to bring him to heated erection.
"Please, sir," Eddy whined, his body trembling. "Let me go. I didn't wanta be involved in this. It was all Greg's idea. Punish his ass. I'll even help you, but please let me go."
Mark lost a lot of respect for Eddy. Pretty cowardly, but then ... there's no honor among such trash humans. Greg, of course, was furious and let Eddy know what he thought in really graphic language. He also made it clear he was going to enjoy watching whatever Mark intended to do to the sniveling bastard. Mark was really liking this turn of events. Eddy shortly was jutting out a most impressive curving erection, a ten incher at least, maybe eleven.
"Whatta you think, Greg? Eddy looks like a pretty good fuck wouldn't you say? I'm pretty horny just now. You think I oughta fuck Eddy's tight ass-hole? Bet he's still a virgin there, huh?"

"Yeah," Greg snorted in pleased derision. "Yeah. Fuck the living hell outa him!"

So Mark stripped and exposed his own dripping, super-heated rod. He needed to get off something fierce. He went behind Eddy where he could position well and where he could also reach the controls on the forklift.
"Oh God no! Please don't ... UNGHHH!"
Eddy's whine was interrupted by his gasping squeal as Mark positioned his cock-head to the puckered sphincter and then brutally drove it home. And Eddy continued to squeal and writhe as Mark fucked him with harsh, deep thrusts that literally raised his big feet off the floor of the shed.

As he came closer to orgasm, Mark flicked the control on the forklift and with a soft mechanical hum the blades went higher. Now Eddy was raised off his toes by a few inches by the rope around his neck. He began gagging and choking as he dangled.

Mark eased out of his rectum, regretfully. The sensations from Eddy's clutching, contracting gut muscles as he began to hang had been terrific. He wanted so badly to cum inside the hanging stud but after he came, there was always a swift lessening in his lust and he wanted to keep it on razor edge for what was to follow.

for a larger image, click on the drawing
print that image
click again to come back here
He stepped to Eddy's front and began to stroke the still erect cock, roughly squeezing and jerking on the steely rod and batting the balls around with his free hand. The erotic affect on Eddy of being hanged was certainly fascinating.

Mark had always heard that it turned some guys on something fierce, but never totally believed it. Eddy proved it was true. Shortly the kicking, dancing hunk popped his load, firing out thick jets of creamy cum before his gut.

Although the death from strangulation being accorded Eddy was reasonably protracted, Mark knew it would not be too long before the guy would lose consciousness.

Before that occurred, there was still THE act to be performed. He produced the small, sharp paring knife he had brought from his kitchen and seized Eddy's genitals. He jerked them out and up to stretch and expose the neck. He brought the knife up.

Eddy would have screamed if he could as the castration progressed. All he could make were deep gurgling croaks of agony as the blood began to spurt from between his legs.

Mark took his time. He had always fantasized about castrating another man ... it had always just been a wet dream he supposed. Now here it was coming true and he relished every second of the process. It was better and more satisfying than he had even fantasized.

After a bit, Eddy finally went limp and just dangled there. If he wasn't dead, he would be shortly, and Mark now turned his attentions to Greg.

Having seen what was done to Eddy, and being utterly helpless, Greg seemed almost resigned to his end. Mark rotated the rack until Greg was presented up at a half-horizontal position.

He watched in helpless horror as Mark soaked his rope-bound genitals in lighter fluid until they were dripping wet with the flammable liquid, his thick pubic copse of hair glistening and drenched.

Somewhere in his mind, Greg may have realized that he had been positioned the way he was to remove his head from the line of rising smoke and flame from his crotch. That way he would not be asphyxiated as he burned. Or maybe that fine point of torture strategy was lost on him.

for a larger image, click on the drawing
print that image ... click again to come back here
Mark lit a match and held it up before Greg's eyes. The stud stared at it in fascinated, silent terror as if it were a snake and he a rat. To his credit, he did not beg. He probably realized it would be a wasted effort ... or maybe he just couldn't speak as he waited.

The little bit of flame descended slowly towards Greg's crotch. Finally it made contact.


Ignition! Yellowish-blue flame flecked with oranges and reds poured like a liquid all over the sex organs and onto the tops of the inner thighs where stray lighter fluid had trickled. The pubic brush exploded and burned fiercely.

Greg's screams were demented and he bucked so wildly against his restraints that Mark feared he might actually pull free or break his bound neck. Every muscle in the powerful, fine body was etched in steely contraction beneath the skin.

Mark slowly stroked himself as he watched the incredible spectacle as Greg's crotch was cooked into blackened char. In just a minute or so he groaned and froze and shot off his load into Greg's crotch even as it continued to smolder as the hemp rope still burned.

After he had recovered his senses, he ended the prisoner's suffering. He had expected Greg to pass out from his excruciating pain ... to go into shock or something. But Greg had a lot of staying power and was still quite conscious when Mark raised the pistol.


The muted spit echoed in the shed and a small red hole appeared magically in Greg's chest just to the right of his left nipple, a slight haze of crimson mist dancing in the air before the wound. Greg shuddered convulsively, gasped once and then went limp.

To be sure, Mark shot him twice more in the chest. Then he turned and pumped the remaining bullets in the clip into Eddy's limp form, watching the body jerk and swing with the impact of each shot.

To help the security guards work, he unbound both bodies of the most recently executed prisoners and laid them out side by side. He dragged Kevin's corpse out and placed it beside the other two.

He returned to the security office and left the keys and pistol on the desk taking care to wipe the gun clean of his prints ... just in case it and the bodies were eventually found. He was not surprised to find the guards waiting as he exited the office.

"They're in the mechanical shed," he told them. "All ready for you."
Then he went back to his condo, looked in on a peacefully sleeping Aaron, and went to bed. He dropped into an exhausted, deep slumber, utterly sated in a way that he had never before experienced. Just before he sank away, he heard the soft vibrating beat of the security helicopter as it lifted off from the helipad.

When he awakened, it was well into the morning. It was a bright, sunny day ... perfect skiing weather. He might hit the slopes later on. He looked in again on Aaron and found him fully awake, lounging comfortably in bed, a steaming cup of coffee on the night-stand.

"You've been up and around, I see."
Aaron nodded,
"I'd have gotten you coffee but you were sleeping soundly. Did everything go ... okay ... last night?"
Mark nodded,
"No-one need ever fear trouble from those three again. How's the arm feel?"

"Pretty good. Throbbing ache but nothing I can't handle. I do have another little problem though."

"And that would be?"


Aaron tossed back the covers. He was naked, his boxers gone. He was just as well hung as his late attackers and his cock was standing up in steely, dripping arousal, his balls churning in stark outline to either side. His thighs were widely parted, his arms up behind his head, cradling it over the pillow. He was utterly hot beyond imagination posed like that. A pure Adonis.
for a larger image, click on the drawing

Mark swallowed hard and approached, sitting on the side of the bed. He let his fingers lightly touch the hotly aroused sex pole.

"What's all this?"
Aaron grinned wickedly,
"Looks to me like one powerfully erect penis."
Mark chuckled,
"I can see that. You think maybe I might be the kind of man who would enjoy sucking a rod like that?"

"No. I know you are. Jiri's my roommate in the dorm. He got back in and told me where he'd just been just before I went down to the basement to get something from my storage bin. That was where I heard those three creeps plotting and got nabbed."

"Well, damn," Mark said. "I didn't expect Jiri to kiss and tell."

"Don't hold it against him. He said you were just great. He said you gave him the best head he's ever had."

Mark proceeded to prove to Aaron that Jiri's endorsement was not overstated. Aaron then reciprocated and offered up his tight little ass-hole for Mark's pleasure. With a gentleness that surprised Mark, he mounted the boy.

He reached a deep, full orgasm and realized that he had not had the slightest need for his usual violent fantasies to enhance the depth of his release. It was as if something had been vented and expunged from him in the killings of the three punks. Some catharsis carried out.

Or possibly it was the depth of feeling he found he had for Aaron. A special bond existed between them and Mark felt a need to nurture and protect the boy that was all-encompassing. Aaron clearly sensed it too and was not at all surprised when Mark asked him to quit his job and return home with him at the end of his ski break. And he readily, happily, agreed.