All characters of men and women are over 18.

Thank you so much Anonymous!

A Simple Plan

What's your opinion on out-of-body experiences? You know what I mean. You have heard stories about someone who has died on the operating table, or at an accident scene, and they are aware of floating above their body looking down on the whole scene. A doctor or EMT revives them and they are back in their body again. Up until this moment I can't say I had an opinion one way or another, but I'm glad for it. It's so quiet and peaceful up here, as opposed to the horror show below. What a mess!There is no doctor or EMT coming by the way. It is just as well. There isn't much of a body for me to return to.

I feel bad about dragging my old friend, Tim, into this. Only a few hours ago we were hanging out at his 23rd birthday party.. I told him, “Look it's a simple plan. We hike up the mountain. Load up old man Donner's wagon with the lumber. Hitch up his mule and pull it out of there.”
“I know Brad, but why can't we take the pick-up? You said it's at least a three mile hike.”, Tim asked.

“You'll see. This road gets really narrow and the ruts are deep, and I don't want old man Donner to hear us coming. Old man Donner's wagon and his mule are about the only thing other than an ATV that can handle this road, but an ATV wouldn't hold the lumber.”

“Seems like you thought this thing thru pretty well.”, Tim stated.

“I have been up here a couple of times. The last time I took so much stuff I had to barrow the mule to carry it down.”, I replied.

“Old man Donner came into town looking for who stole his mule. They found her eating grass in the town park. My uncle loaded the mule and old man Donner into his truck and dropped them off at the bottom of the hill where we hid your truck. My Uncle said he was ten times more upset about losing the mule than he was the stuff you stole. He told my uncle the mule was his best friend in the world.”

“Yeah, everybody says old man Donner is crazy. He's lived up in the hills by himself for decades I guess. No electricity or running water. He's got a sawmill up there and every so often he'll bring a load of sawn lumber down to town. He specializes in really old growth hardwood stuff. The price of that stuff has gone crazy. When I was up here three days ago scoping the place out, he had a huge log lined up for cutting. Dude it must have been four feet across, and weighed tons. He should have finished cutting it by now. It's going to be worth a fortune, but I need your help loading it on the wagon, and getting it out of there.”

“He didn't see you, did he?”, Tim asked.

“No. No way. I was really careful.”, I said.

About half way up the trail Tim asked, “Is your knee okay to make this climb? Does it bother you at all?”

“No. It's okay. Five surgeries in four years. It's fine.”, I told him.

“Do you regret playing football in High School and messing up your knee?” Tim asked.

“No what I regret is that idiot doctor who uttered the life changing (for me any way) words, “ Have you ever heard of oxycontin? That shit screwed me up bad.

I thought you went to rehab?

I've been three times, actually. Don't be surprised if I end up there again.” Trying to change the subject, “We had fun on the team didn't we?

“I was second string, and really just joined the team to stay close to you. I don't have the build for football. I'm too lanky and skinny. I'm glad I got out without any injuries. You were the star of the team, though. We all thought you would go pro after college.”

The late afternoon sun caught Tim's hair and gave it a nice glow. He caught me looking and asked . “What”?

“Did you color your hair while you were away at college? I never noticed it was dark red. I always thought it was brown.”

“You are an idiot. I love you dearly but you have always been so caught up in yourself, you never really notice people around you”. There was an insult in there someplace but I brushed it off since I needed Tim's help. The “I love you” comment and “joining the team to stay close to you” comments were weird, but I didn't want to call him on it. He was sure acting strange, but we hadn't hung out together for the four years he was away at school. Maybe he had changed, or just became more touchy-feely. He never used to talk like that.

When we reached the end of the trail I said, “It's almost dark. Let's be real quiet for a while until we can be sure old man Donner has gone to sleep. I picked tonight because the moon won't be up for a few hours and it won't be very bright. There are some big boulders we can hide behind overlooking his cabin and sawmill.” Truth be told I needed a rest. I'm not in as good of shape as I used to be.

The spot I had used for reconnoiter before was cozy for two people, but seemed strategic. We couldn't stand up but had to crouch down to keep an eye on things. We saw old man Donner cross from the mill, and go into his house. It looked like he cooked something for dinner, then came out on his porch for a smoke. He went inside. The lantern went out. “Let's give him some time to go to sleep.” After a while I said, “Tim, thanks for coming. I didn't know who else to ask.”

He was thoughtful for a moment and said, “We have known each other for what twenty plus years?

“I hadn't thought about it, but I guess that's right. We moved in next door to you when I was two or three. We went all the way thru pre-school to high school.”

You know there was a time before I left for college that I would have done anything for you.” Tim said looking a little coy. After some of the things Tim said about staying close to me on the team and doing anything for me” I should not have been surprised about what came next. “Dude we haven't hung out much together for the last four years while I was a way at school. I wanted a chance to catch up. I used to idolize you. Hell , I was infatuated with you. I used to look up to you, and think you were so handsome. You had that all-American boy look, you still do. You could have been a male model or an actor with that wavy jet black hair. I used to think I could go swimming in those big brown eyes of yours. I even liked the way you smelled. Tomorrow I am headed back east for a job, so I'm just going to say it. I'm gay, and I would really like to suck your dick.”

“I don't know what to say. I never guessed.”

“Yeah, you are a first class stud, but you can be pretty clueless sometimes.”

“But I'm not gay”

“I don't care. Just lean back and pretend I'm one of those cheerleaders that you were banging in high school. You certainly had your pick.”

“It's been a while. Being in and out of rehab doesn't do much for your eligibility on the dating market. Besides I am always broke.”

“So what about it. I will bet you my half of the haul today I will give you a more satisfying BJ than any girl who has ever sucked you off.”

At some level I knew I wasn't going to pay him anything for his help today, anyway. Why not give him what he really wants, besides the whole discussion made me stiff as a board. It had been so long since I got laid and even longer since another person blew me. I laid down on the ground. He wasted no time unbuckling my belt, pulling down my pants and underwear. It was a very cool night, and goosebumps came up in response to the night air. He ran his hands up and down my legs. His hands were warm against my chilled skin, and said, “Your thighs are so strong. I used to love to watch you doing those leg-presses in the weight room.”

To think I was being spied on and was an object of his lust after so long was creepy, but he laid across my legs and went to work on my cock so quickly the thought vanished. At first it was like he politely introduced his tongue to the tip of my cock, and then where the glans meets the shaft. I was in heaven. Tim really knew what he was doing because he stroked my cock and played with my balls as he sucked. Not only did this guy have great technique it was obvious he so wanted my cock in his mouth. I had begged and badgered a few girls to do this, but no one ever enjoyed it like Tim did. Time stopped. Did he make love to my cock for a minute, or five, or thirty, I couldn't say. My world shrank to how good my cock felt and Tim's mouth.

I was getting close, and told him so. He surprised me by sucking even harder. The one time I let go in girl's mouth she spit it out like I had fed her poison. What was worse she bitched about it for weeks until we quit dating. To have Tim double down and work harder was a major turn on. I grunted forgetting we needed to stay quiet. I started pumping deep down his throat. After three volleys he backed off and took the last shots in his mouth.

My eyes rolled back in my head and I laid back to savor the after glow while Tim seemed intent on sucking me dry. That is when I heard one of the most distinctive sounds in the world: a shot gun being racked – double barrel by the sound of it. A flashlight shown into my eyes, but I could see the silhouette of the shot gun barrels just over Tim's head. I started to scramble for my pants but a gravely old voice said, “Leave those pants down, or I blow your cock-sucking friend's head off. Put your hands behind your head.” Tim's eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. I could tell he was scared. “You, Cock-sucker, Tighten your buddy's belt around his legs. Not too tight. Just so he can walk, then take the laces out of his work-boots and throw them back to me.” Tim did as he was told. “Now stand up nice and slow and take your pants down, and take out your laces too.” After we were both hobbled by our pants, we were told, “Move slowly down the hill toward the mill single file.” We couldn't have moved fast anyway trying not to step out of our loose boots, and just taking tiny steps. Tim was right behind me, tripped once and fell into me. We were threatened with being shot until we could help each other up, and started again.

From behind I heard old man Donner say, “I been waitin for you. Saw you nose'n around a few days ago. I thought tonight was the ideal time to come up again and really clean me out. I figured if that boy has any sense tonight's the night because the moon won't be up for a few hours and it won't be very bright. I asked around in town about what kind of a low-life would steal a man's mule? Everybody talked about the star athlete football player who first got himself hooked on pain killers and then moved on to harder stuff when his prescriptions ran out. Boo-hoo. You don't have many friends left in that town, boy. They don't appreciate your stealin any more than I do. Nobody mentioned you had a cock-sucking friend, though.”

“My name is Tim, by-the-way. And I stole your mule.”

“Tim shut-up. Why would you say that? That isn't true. Let him go, Donner.”, I retorted.

“ I got a pretty good idea who is responsible, but if you friend wants to take responsibility, that's fine with me. It's time for a first hand history lesson. You're going to find out how horse thieves were handled in the Old West, Mr. Cock-sucker, and I don't care what your name is. Cock-suckers disgust me almost as much as horse and mule thieves.”, Donner said.

We reached the entrance to the mill and it was pitch black inside. From my visits here before I knew the saw and the steam engine were farther in. It was slightly warmer inside. Maybe the steam engine had been running earlier that day. There seemed to be some heat radiating off the monster. Anyway getting out of the cool night breeze felt good. There was a huge log lined up on a conveyor belt.

“Cock-sucker, help your friend get up and straddle this log. The gun barrel waved toward the massive log. It was easily four feet across and ten feet long. The height off the ground meant the top was six feet from the floor. I'm 6' 2” and could just see over the top of the log. I jumped up on the belt and then hoisted myself up the rest of the way, Tim steadied me so I didn't fall. I straddled the log facing away from the saw and out the door.

“Other way, idiot. I want you to see what's coming.”, Donner said. It was at this point I started to get really scared. Up until now I thought old man was just going to restrain us until he could get the cops. I figured we could just say we were hiking and got lost and asked the old geezer for help. What did he mean by “See what's coming?”

I brought my legs around so I was staring into the blackness ahead. “Take these metal bands and nail them into the wood on both sides of your buddy's legs, cock-sucker.” The flashlight fell on a series of thin metal bands that you might use to strap heavy material together. One end was already nailed into the log. He was ready for us. My ankle was attached to the side of the log like a stirrup on a horse. Tim left plenty of slack in between the band and my leg. With enough play I might be able to get my leg free while old man Donner wasn't looking. Tim moved to the other side and nailed the strap on my other leg.

“Good job, cock-sucker. Now take the shoe laces and tie your lover's hands together.”

“He's not my lover.” Tim protested.

“I don't care just do it.”

“Now lie down on your back, and your cock-sucking friend will attach your arms like your legs.”

My eyes were starting to adjust to the dim light in the mill. With my arms stretched over my head and my arms loosely banded, if I lifted my head, I could start to make out a wicked circular saw blade at the end of the log I was attached to. Surely old man Donner just meant to scare us, right? The mill was not running. Tim did as he was told, nailing the straps on both sides of my upper right arm. He left me some play, if I could just get some time to work the nails out. Tim reached across me to nail the left arm under the strap. Just as he finished I saw old man Donner come from behind and put a noose around Tim's neck. Old man Donner ducked farther into the barn, but I could see him in the shadows rapidly pulling the rope thru a block and tackle pulley. Tim was shocked to have the rope encircling his neck. He tried franticly to get the rope loose all the while the rope was pulling him back into the shed and then off of the floor. That pulley looked like it could handle tons. Tim was off the floor struggling for air, trying desperately to get his fingers between the rope and his neck.

I wasn't sure if I would get another chance or even if old man Donner could see me in the dim light, but I had to act now, if Tim was going to have any chance. I twisted my body one way and then another. The strap holding my right leg came free. Ok, now what? Work on the other leg and hope to gain more leverage? Having one leg free suddenly didn't seem like it was much of an advantage. I tried to twist and throw my free leg over when the shot gun exploded. The sound was deafening in the confined space. Wood above my head splintered and rained down on me. I could feel a sharp pain in my foot.

“I've been shot, I've been shot!” I screamed. Before I could repeat myself again the barrels of the shot gun appeared in my face.

“You are a pussy. I've been shot. I've been shot.” Donner said with a high girly voice. “You got two little pieces of buck shot in your foot. It isn't really even bleeding. He was right now that I thought about it, the pain wasn't that bad. It was just the shock of never having been shot before, that made me panic.

“Now if you will lie still for a moment, I will give your buddy a little relief on his neck.” I nodded. My plan was to kick Donner in the face when he came around to nail my free right leg. He surprised me and came around and nailed my left leg more firmly to the log. It cut into my skin tightly. There was no free play now. He moved to do the same to my arms. He reached my right leg last, but removed the boot and threw it into the boiler before nailing the strap down. I wasn't going anywhere.

I could hear the gargled cries from farther back in the shed. “You promised to help. Tim.”

“So I did.” He moved back into the darkness. I could see Donner letting the chains down on the block and tackle. The balls of Tim's feet just touched the floor. The strangling gargling sound gave way to mere gasping.

“He still can't breath you bastard. Let him down.”, I shouted.

“I promised a little relief. He got that.” Donner said, “Time for a history lesson, boys. You know what they used to do to horse thieves? They got strung up like your buddy here. If there was a judge involved and a jury, a gallows would be built. That kind of hangin meant the no good horse thief would climb the steps, have a noose around his neck, the floor would drop out and the low-life's neck would snap. The whole thing was over pretty quick. The other kind was when a bunch of patriot citizens would track down a horse thief themselves. They would throw a rope over a tree limb, put the thief on the horse, with a noose around his neck, then move the horse along. The no good horse thief got to dance his last dance for a good long while at the end of the rope. It wasn't over quick by no means. Your cock-suckin buddy here claims he stole my mule. I doubt that, but if he wants to be treated like a thief, well so be it. My grand daddy said he was taking to a public hanging once when he was a boy. Public hanging. Can you imagine that? He told me the last act of a man is to shoot his wad. I could not believe it when he told me that. Now all these years after the fact, I would like to see for myself, if it's true.”

Tim had caught up enough on his breathing to not sound as desperate for air. He gave Donner a suspicious look. Tim's pants were still at his ankles. Donner bent down and tightened the belt. He stood up and pulled on the block and tackle, and Tim rose a few inches off the floor. Donner reached down and removed Tim's shoes. The rasping, gargling, sounds of strangulation started again. I could see the whites of his eyes. He was terrified. What had I gotten us into? Into the darkness it was hard to see Tim's face, and the agony he must be feeling, but the sounds of his struggle were bad enough. He was still trying to get his fingers between his neck and the rope. I could tell that wasn't going to help. If he succeeded, it would only constrict his breathing further. He needed to get more slack in the rope, but I suppose a hangman's nose only tightens one way. Tim tried to pivot anyway he could, but at last his pelvis jutted out half a dozen times, like he was trying to fuck the air. At that point I could smell the familiar oder of semen. Tim had shot his wad. He hung motionless.

Donner laughed and clapped his hands. “I guess Grand-daddy was right. After all these years. What do you know about that?”

He lowered Tim all the way to the floor and attached the hook to Tim's belt, and raised him off the floor again this time upside down. Donner walked back to me. “Now I am going to maintain the family tradition, but I have to be a little choosy as to what I can take. Your cock-sucking buddy is in good shape, but looks a little scrawny to me.” I must have looked confused, because he continued, “ The name Donner doesn't mean anything to you boy? Don't they teach you any history in school? Winter came early in '46 when my forefathers were on the Oregon Trail. Let's say they had to get a little creative in finding enough to eat.”

Oh no! The Donner Party. Famous for cannibalism on the trip to California in 1846. This old man was crazy. I tried to squirm away from him but there was no way to move. My heartbeat, already fast went into over-drive. He massaged my feet with his rough callous hands. “Some people have a thing for feet, but I don't get it. They look too boney to me.” He moved up to my calves and squeezed them harder than you might a piece of fruit in the store. “These would make some good steaks, but I have no refrigeration so I have to be selective.” He massaged my upper leg with both hands. The old guy was creepy as could be, but there was nothing to be done to stop the molestation. “You cock-sucking buddy admired your legs. He could be right about that. There's a lot of good meat here. Might make a good roast.” He caressed my balls. “Yes, yes here we go. I will have Rocky Mountain oysters for breakfast. Between you and your friend that will be one good meal.” Up until this moment I did not know what Rocky Mountain oysters were. He stabbed his finger up and down my penis. “I don't think so. Looks too chewy to me.” Both hands grabbed my belly, rubbing and massaging my ab muscles. “The all-star quarterback has put on a layer of fat.” He was right about that. I was not as trim as I used to be. “That's fine. I think that extra layer of fat will make good bacon. I could make that into a jerky too, though.”

He came behind me and stuck a small log underneath my head as a make-shift pillow keeping my head in a raised position. I could see down my body without having to lift my head. My legs were spread wide on either side of the log. Donner reached between my legs and ran his fingers between my thighs. He said, “Don't know what this line is called that runs from your asshole to your balls.”

“The perineum.” I said, but why did I have to be so helpful?

“If you say so boy. Any way that's where the saw blade is headed.” he said as he reached up to fondle my balls again. Damn I hated being at his mercy for fondling. “These balls are too high and tight. I don't want the saw blade to mess up my breakfast.” He said as his finger nail pricked at the skin as some kind of preview for what was coming. “I could tie these out of the way, but there isn't any give at the moment.” He stared down at my testicles with a pensive look for a few moments. “It's pretty cold in here, now. They may start to pull away as in warms up in here. Otherwise I will have to remove them before we get started.”

“No!” I bellowed.

A wicked grin crossed Donner's face. “What's the matter boy. You will only be a eunuch for a few minutes.” Don't ask me to explain why that bothered me so much. He was planning to do me in for the ridiculous crime of borrowing his mule, and in the most gruesome painful way possible. Why should it bother me so much to lose my balls first? It was unnatural that my body was his to manipulate just by changing the temperature. It wasn't rational, but my heartbeat, already fast, went into overdrive, while I strained to move up the log even a fraction of an inch.

Donner turned his back to me and faced the steam engine. He went in to school teacher mode, and said, “There an art to building a fire in an old boiler like this. An idiot like you would probably just keep throwing in wood until the fire box was full and wonder why it never reached full steam.” He opened a door to the firebox where I assumed the wood would go, and I saw nothing but an intense blackness darker even than the shed we were in. The Donner opened another grate or vent with a loud “Clang” and after a moment I saw embers at the other end of the firebox start to glow like rubies in the ash. “I made sure we still had a little heat to get things going.” He stepped out of my vision and came back with a holding an arm full of wood. “I sorted out the wood pile earlier to make sure everything was nice and dry for tonight.” He threw the wood into the back of the fire chamber. The glowing embers were obscured for a few seconds until a tiny flame erupted from the wood. It suddenly seemed so bright. Now I could see that the interior of the fire box looked to be four feet deep. When full, it could hold a lot of wood. Donner built a layer of logs about two deep from the back of the chamber where the wood was starting to burn steadily to the front where the flames would soon spread.

“While the fire gets going in this first layer of wood, I will go get more water. Got to pre-heat the water, you know. Cold water in a hot boiler leads to an explosion.” He stuck his face in mine. “Before this is all over you will beg for a quick end like that. You will think your cock-sucking buddy got it easy.”

He walked out with some buckets and it suddenly seemed very quiet. The fire was spreading in the fire box from the back to the front. In the growing fire light I could see the steam engine was ten or twelve feet tall. It sat on blocks. It was just the engine. It was not self-propelled. It looked like it had sat in the same spot for decades. Painted completely black it had various pipes running around the exterior. There was a crankshaft attached to a piston inside, I guessed? The smoke stack was at the far end and went thru a hole cut in the roof. It was quiet except for the sound of crackling wood in the fire box. All of a sudden I heard a loud gurgling like a water cooler or an empty stomach. A few moments later there was a sound of stretching metal. It reminded me of a time we visited my aunt and uncle who lived in an old apartment building in New York city in the fall and the radiators would pop and bang from the basement up to the top floor. It was like the thing was a big black sleeping monster waking up because of the fire in its belly. It wasn't happy. The size of the thing and the weird noises made it creepy and I felt uneasy. Then there was the saw blade that was terrifying. It must have been five feet across because it was wide enough to cut through the log in one pass. It was right out of an old silent movie, but I couldn't imagine who was coming through the door to save me.

When Donner got back with his buckets of water the entire bottom of the fire-box was aflame. Tim's shoes went it. His cell-phone was tossed in next. Donner came back with Tim's wallet, removed the cash and the rest was tossed into the flames. “When this fire really gets going, it will be hotter than any crematorium.” He slid my other boot off and tossed it into the building inferno too. Your bones will turn to ash, and there will be no trace. The only hitch is as you might have noticed, my broad shouldered boy is that you are a little wide for the door.” He caressed the huge saw blade. “This will take care of that problem.”

He put another layer of wood in the fire box filling it just to the bottom of the door. It caught quickly given the layer of coals that now covered the bottom. My boots were almost completely consumed. Tim's cell phone melted. While he was away I thought about what Donner had said about begging for a quick end. The blade was going to split me in two but as much as I was fond of my cock, it wasn't a vital organ. The saw blade had a long way to go before it hit any organs that were actually going to kill me. I thought about idiot doctor who prescribed oxycontin, “what level of pain are you experiencing on a scale of 1 to 10?” This pain was going to be off the charts. I was desperate to get off the log, but I was secured so tightly that there was no way to move. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Donner came back, stood on a ladder and added the buckets of water at the top. The boiler continued to bang and groan. It really did feel like the machine was coming alive. It was getting warm in the shed. My feet, closest to the boiler, could feel the heat radiating off the metal. Donner came over and massaged my balls, and said, “That's what I thought. You just needed to warm up a little.” It was disgusting that my body was Donner's to control just by changing the temperature. My boot laces reappeared. Donner tied a slip knot, put it around my right testicle, and tied it off on one of the straps. He did the same on the left side. Looking down my body I could see the two testicles were now pulled to each side. “That's a good start. We'll tighten them again later. Now I give you a little lesson in how a steam engine works. When this gauge gets to here, I turn this valve and let the steam hit the piston.” I couldn't see what he was talking about, and didn't really care. “Then when the piston is turning the crankshaft real good I tighten this here belt. That starts the flywheel and as you can see that's connected to the saw. The flywheel is going to make sure we don't have to stop or bind up if there's a knot or obstruction in the wood. You, boy, didn't count as any kind of obstruction.” he said with an evil grin. The saw was too old for any kind of safety guards, when the saw came up to speed it was going to be hard to stop. It wasn't like a table saw. There was no modern safety brake.

He turned away to putter with something else. Was this all about me stealing (well borrowing) his prized mule, or was this just an excuse for a lonely sick, twisted, bastard to inflict pain and suffering? Donner came back and looked at the gauge. “Close enough,” he said, as he turned the valve. There was a hissing sound, but nothing happened. I must have looked a little hopeful

“You think this is your lucky day, boy? After almost a hundred years on this mountain this would be the day this old machine breaks down? In the war between steam and the piston the steam always wins.” There was a groan, and it was hard to see in the low light, but the crankshaft was starting to turn. All creaking, banging, and groaning had stopped. The beast was fully awake, but didn't seem happy about it. It started the chug-chug sound you associate with an old engine like this as the piston lost its battle with the inrushing steam. The time between the chugs diminished until it was lost completely. Donner closed the door to the firebox and crossed in front of the mighty machine and pulled a long leaver. I could see the slack come out of a long belt. An ear-splitting squall erupted as the belt reluctantly started to spin with the crankshaft and the saw blade and the fly wheel.

“Like it or not boy, here we go.” Donner said with an evil grin. The saw blade hit the bottom of the log and I could instantly feel the vibration. It's like when you go to the dentist for a filing and he numbs you, but starts drilling, then asks if you can feel it. Well, yes, I can feel the vibration and grinding from the drill, but it doesn't necessarily hurt. Saw dust sprayed up and over the saw in fine line. I could imagine each vibration I felt was a tiny piece of wood becoming saw dust opening a seam in the log. The terrifying thing was that this machine was so slowly and relentlessly moving thru the wood toward my groin. It didn't care, had no feelings, as it deliberately chewed thru the wood inch by inch. I couldn't take my eyes off the thing.

After what seemed like hours it looked like the blade had almost reached my perineum. I screamed. Donner looked at me for the first time since the blade had started. He stepped away and released the lever that put tension on the belt and moved the saw back down a few inches while it slowed. He stuck his face in my line of site, and said, “You are an idiot, and a pussy. All you are feeling is the air coming off the blade. It hasn't even broken the skin yet.” He grabbed a rag and opened the door to the fire box. The wood that had come up to the level of the door had burned down to a bed of coals several inches deep. The heat pored out of the box. My feet were going to be blistered soon. Donner started making several trips to the wood pile. He had to stand back and toss the wood thru the door and into the box. The inferno inside was too hot to approach. A lot of the logs would start to burn even before hitting the bottom of the box. It was finally full up to the door again and Donner slammed the door shut. “Let's continue. We were just getting to the good part.”

The slack came out of the belt, the blade and flywheel started again. As the blade retraced a little of it's course with little resistance Donner noticed the slip knots holding my balls needed to be tightened again. He adjusted the one on his side. As he reached across to tighten the other, three things happened at once. I think the saw blade did start to split my skin. Donner's hairy arm rubbed the glans of my penis, and I erupted with the most powerful orgasm of my life. It was like my cock demanded one more release. And at that point my heart said, enough. The feeling of the saw blade was secondary to whatever reached into my chest and stopped it beating.

So here I am looking down on this mess. The worst part of this form of the killing Donner had inflicted or tried to before my heart called it quits was the vital organs in my upper chest and my brain would have kept right on working for a while as if nothing was wrong. I floated there staring down at the great slit in my lower body and the internal parts of me that were slowly spilling forth while my blood spurted and coursed everywhere around me. There wasn't the slightest trace left of my sex package. The saw blade had minced my male penis and obliterated the delicate flesh.

I could hear Tim's voice around me, but I couldn't really see him, as he said, “Come on Brad let's move on.”