I admit it, I enjoy being fucked up the ass.

As you will probably have already gathered, I - Alastair Simon Lawes - am not a man with many hangups about enjoying the things I find pleasure in. I'm a bisexual, necrophiliac murderer and cannibal, though interestingly I'm not a rapist. I don't find any joy in taking by force what so many people over the years have been willing to give me freely. Their intimacy, their virginities, even their lives and flesh. I'll gladly receive when given, but never take by force.

I'm also not aroused by urine or faecal matter. Some of the clients who come to my club are, and that's their prerogative, but for me there's nothing sexy about them at all. Give me saliva, semen, sweat and blood any day.

Anyway, where was I...? Oh yes. On a boat with a cock in my ass and another in my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Janet – still gorgeous in her mid fifties – with a glass of wine in hand and a couple of fingers in her pussy, watching me suck and be fucked by two equally gorgeous (though much younger) men. She was wearing what was technically a long black evening dress, but honestly it was more like an ankle-length cloak with a broad strip of ruffled fabric across her midriff. It left her small, still-firm breasts and hairless pussy fully exposed, and her nipples were as hard as the diamond rings that pierced them.

The men I was fucking were Twin brothers, pierced and tattooed with that black over-the-eye emo haircut. The only way to tell them apart was that one's hair falls to the left, the other to the right.

There was certainly nothing different about their generously sized penises, as my very VERY close inspection was proving.

Lest you think this tale is going to purely involve my homosexual side, I'd just like to point out that my own cock was busily filling out my favourite employee, Bridget. Tall, lean and muscular, with straight brunette hair to the points of her shoulder blades and unsettling blue eyes. Not actually that beautiful, but with a sultry confidence and knowledge of her own sexual tastes that more than compensated.

All the girls I employ are aroused by the prospect of their own deaths and those of others. Deep in in their libidos is a simple equation: “death = sex”. Doesn't matter who, what or how, if somebody is dying, they get wet. They aren't alone in that impulse either – I make millions every month off the snuffing of one of the girls who work at the club on my private island, Club Moros, and also off the discrete service I provide which puts predators and oh-so-willing prey in contact, and makes sure that the authorities never figure out whodunnit. A fair percentage of the missing persons cases across the whole world are down to my organisation and the service it provides.

Surprised? We're good at keeping it all a big secret. It helps that senior officials in a few governmental intelligence agencies (no, I am not going to say which ones) are regular attendees at Club Moros. Besides, there are bigger fish to fry than a bunch of perverts in international waters who take men and women who'd almost certainly be committing suicide anyway, and introduce them to people who would otherwise be murdering their way through the general public. My only ever business rival was a man who used to facilitate the kidnap, rape and murder of unwilling victims, and wasn't fussy about details like, for example, whether the requested victim was a little girl. Being the nice chap that I am, I even attended his funeral.

I won't claim to be a nice person. I'm not, I'm a horrible person who gets his jollies from cutting people to pieces. But even evil has standards, eh?

Speaking of which, the whole point of this little party on the boat is that the two lively, delicious young men fucking me were soon be dead delicious young men. They were like the club's girls, in that the idea was clearly driving them wild. The cock in my ass was as hard as a hammer's handle, and the one that Bridget had just popped out of my mouth to have a suck on was pulsing like a bass woofer at a rave. How neither of them had come yet was beyond me.

“Kiss” Janet ordered from behind me, and I looked up to see the brothers lean forward over my back and lock lips passionately in a kiss that was FAR from brotherly.

“All right, you can come now”. She said, in a kindly tone, and I marvelled at the control it must take for anyone to hold back from reaching climax for so long until explicitly allowed to do so. Especially considering how huge a turn-on their imminent demise obviously was for them both.

They must have been holding themselves right on the brink for a while, because almost immediately after Janet gave the order, I saw Bridget smile around the cock in her mouth, allowing some whiteness to seep out. Seconds later, I couldn't resist a groan of satisfaction as the meat tickling my kidneys seemed to swell and surge, sending a familiar warmth deep into my rectum.

Finally sated, the boys pulled out and stepped away from Bridget and I. Knowing what I like, Bridget rolled herself on top of me, then gave me a kiss full of tongue, sharing the salty taste in her mouth.

A few minutes later, I felt tension building up in my balls and didn't fight it. Bridget felt my orgasm approaching though, and slipped off me to replace her cunt with her mouth, swallowing down my semen with a broad, raunchy smile.

“Bridget? Be a darling and eat my pussy would you?” Janet asked. Bridget didn't need a second invitation and crossed the floor in an almost feline crawl to bury her tongue in the older woman's crotch.

Janet made an “mmm” noise and sipped from her wine, managing to look regal and stately even with a brunette tonguing her clit. She gestured to the boys, who were lounging around and enjoying the show, their cocks recovering remarkably fast from the ordeal of their delayed orgasms.

“It's time.” she said. Both cocks became hard in seconds and the twins smiled at one another before sharing a kiss.

Arousing as the scene was, my own penis wasn't yet able to rise to the occasion, so I dragged myself over to a throw cushion and sat back against the wall to watch.

“So, what do you have planned for them?” I asked Janet. I picked up a half-finished wine from where I'd left it and took a gulp, rinsing the taste of semen from my palate.

“Well Alastair, dear. I was thinking that the boys love to suck each others' cocks, but the poor darlings have never tasted their own.” She said airily.

“That does seem a shame” I agreed, smiling at the mental image of each lad chewing on his own severed penis. “but I was rather looking forward to eating them myself.”

“True, there's nothing like pan-fried dick after a good snuff.” she mused. “hmmm... I tell you what, I have a pair of cavalry sabres hung on the wall in my room. How do you fancy a swordfight?”

“Soundfff good t'me...” Bridget mumbled from between Janet's thighs, prompting a stern glance downwards from the senior dominatrix.

“Did I SAY you could talk, Bridget?” she asked scornfully.

“Mnn... no, mifstreffs.”

“Then shut up and pleasure me, there's a good girl.”

I chuckled at that and glanced at the twins who were listening raptly to the conversation, waiting for the order that would determine how they would die.

“I've always liked contrast” I said. “I like a quick snuff just as much as a slow one. And look! We have two willing snuff-boys here.”

“Capital idea. Let's play aztec sacrifice shall we?”

“I don't know that game.” I confessed. “What are the rules?”

“Oh, they're very simple. Samuel here goes and fetches the dagger from my dressing table. Then he cuts out Matthew's heart and eats it. Sound good?” Watching the twins, I saw their cocks get even harder than before, somehow.

“I'm more in the mood for a decapitation, but that does sound enticing.”I said.

“Kneeling, block, or harakiri?”

“They're your slaves, Janet.”

Janet thought for a few seconds and then said “It's an old classic that I never get tired of seeing... Matt, dear, go fetch the seppuku kit for your brother, would you?” One of the twins – who until now I'd been thinking of as “Lefty” - stood and hurried away. “Sam... come here, darling.”

Sam – or “Righty” as I'd been calling him – got to his feet and walked across the room. His expression and posture were that curious mix of trepidation, lust and eagerness I'd seen on so many snuff-sluts in my time. He was trembling in fear now, but his cock was still erect and pulsing with the rhythm of his hammering heart.

With gentle pressure of her hand, Janet pushed Bridget away from her pussy. She stood up and put a hand to Sam's cheek, lovingly.
“When you first came to me, I told you that I never give pleasure to my slaves myself.” she said. “Which wasn't quite true... I will pleasure you all, just once. You've been a loyal, lovely lad to me Sam, and I will never forget you.” She kissed him softly, then dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around his throbbing dick.

Bridget scooted over to me and pressed herself up to me, masturbating herself slowly. I wrapped an arm around her and cupped a boob. There was very little noise, except for the wet slurping as Janet gave Sam a skilled, experienced blowjob that I began to feel very jealous of.

It took a while, but eventually Sam gave up on holding his climax in and gave a deep-throated, guttural cry of pleasure that echoed away off the side of the boat and out across the calm tropical waters. Janet swallowed every last drop with the same earnest, loving expression. Then she stood up and whispered in the shaking young man's ear, too quietly for me to hear.

“Yes, m-mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” Sam said “May I kiss my brother goodbye first, please?”

“You may.” Janet replied beneficently. Sam turned to his twin who was stood by patiently. The two gave each other a huge, brotherly hug and then a long, loving, much less brotherly kiss. He took the Tanto from Matt's unresisting hand then went to kneel in the middle of the floor.

There was only a moment's hesitation. Matt drew the sleek, curved sword and took position behind his brother, raising it like a baseball hitter waiting for the pitch. Sam took a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth to steel himself, and then forced the blade deep into his own guts.

I was amazed he didn't cry out in agony, because the pain must have been indescribable. Instead, gritting his teeth, Sam drew the blade slowly across his abdomen, left to right, until a great ugly gouge was spilling blood down his groin and legs. Instinctively it seemed, he leaned forward and with a warrior cry Matt brought the shimmering blade down in an arc that parted Sam's black-haired head from his shoulders in a gout of blood that washed across the deck and sprayed Matt full in the face.

Matt dropped the sword and rushed to pick up the severed head, with its face that was identical in every way to his own. Sam's eyes were closed and the muscles had gone slack- he was already dead. Tears carving clean channels through the blood on his cheeks, he raised the bloody lump to his lips and kissed his brother's dead mouth and forehead.

Beside me, Bridget tensed and convulsed as she came hard, but the only audible sign she gave was a gasp of shuddering breath.

Matt recovered quickly, and soon he was smiling through the blood and tears on his face. After the original natural reaction, his deeper more unnatural nature was taking over and he was clearly even more submissively ready and excited to die than before.”

“Shall I take the meat to the galley, mistress?” he asked.

“Yes Matt, thank you. Bridget, hose down the deck.” Janet replied. She took the head from him and put it in one of the two beer coolers she'd set out on the deck. I guessed that she'd probably make use of the island's taxidermy service in the morning.

Janet sat down next to me as Matt shouldered his deceased sibling's brother and carried it away to the galley, and Bridget busied herself with sending reddish water sluicing off the side of the yacht and into the water of the bay.

“So... what shall we do to Matthew?”

“Well, I did bring Bridget aboard. She's something of a master at snuffing people in inventively cruel ways.”

“Hmm.... did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Not really.” I said.

Janet looked up to eye Bridget as she ran a broom across the deck, scrubbing the last of the bloody water into the sea. Beneath the light of an almost full moon, the bruising around her neck from where I'd choked her to within an inch of death only a few nights ago was clearly visible.

“...Have you ever seen her kill somebody without using a tool?” She asked, curiously.

“You mean with her bare hands? No, never” I said. “It could be very interesting.”

“Yes... it could. Matt!”

The emo-looking snuff-boy was standing respectfully to one side, obviously wanting to hear our murmured conversation but unable to.

“Yes mistress?” He asked.

“Go fetch the folding table with the straps from the hold.”

“Yes mistress!” he was gone, with an eagerness that brought a smile to my face. The boy literally couldn't wait to be snuffed. We could hear him banging away below decks and when he reappeared a few minutes later, he was dragging a modified folding massage table with strong leather straps to hold the wrists and ankles, which he unfolded in the middle of the deck.

Janet commanded him to lie down, and did up the straps herself, firmly securing him. Then, once he was properly locked in, she leaned over to kiss him tenderly.

“Matt, my darling, precious boy. Thank you so much for the wonderful gift you have given me. I will never forget you.” and with that, she straddled him and rode his rock-hard cock.

Showing the same control as he had used with me, Matt resisted his orgasm until finally Janet threw her head back and gasped in ecstasy, at which he also issued an animal growl and allowed himself to come.

Again, I was struck with a twinge of jealousy for Matt. In all the years I'd known Janet, I'd never seen or heard of her fucking anybody, OR sucking them off. She only ever received pleasure and never gave it in return – it was part of her domination ritual. But then again, she'd never before invited me to join her in snuffing her slaves. From a spectator's perspective, it looked like she was a black belt of the sexual arts, an absolute master of using her body to best effect.

Even if the only people she ever fucked like that were her snuff-slaves, I reflected, it might well be worth it. Matt looked like he might expire then and there from the force of his orgasm. As he came down from the high however, Janet leaned down and again whispered something I couldn't hear into his ear.

“Yes, mistress. Thank you mistress.” he replied solemnly, and put his head back.

Janet climbed off him. “Bridget.”

“Yes, mistress?” Bridget asked, panting in excitement. For tonight, she was an honourary slave of Janet's. Immune to being snuffed or seriously harmed, but still bound to obey her like any other sex slave.

“You are to kill this snuff-slave for me. You are not allowed to use any tools – only your own body. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress!” Bridget replied eagerly.

“Good. Begin.”

As Janet sat down next to me again, Bridget began by walking around the restrained snuff-boy, trailing a finger on his chest, flank, thighs, arms and tantalisingly close to his genitals. On the third circuit, she put a hand to either side of his face, and bent down to kiss him. I could see the wet pink glint of tongues, and then she did something I couldn't quite see. Matt made a “HMMNRRGH!” noise of pain, and Bridget straightened up with some difficulty. As she stood up, I saw blood on her face and a ragged chunk of flesh – Matt's tongue – in her mouth. She spat it overboard and licked blood from her lips, clearly enjoying her victim's moans of pain.

Janet gave an appreciative murmur next to me, and lifted herself onto my lap. She grabbed my hand and guided it to her pussy, which I found to be slick and hot as I began to rub it. My other hand came up to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples as I watched Bridget continue.

Bridget, meanwhile, had inserted one of her shapely legs under matt's restrained arm and planted her foot against his rib cage. She heaved against him with a roar of exertion and Matt echoed the noise as his shoulder, shackled at the wrist, dislocated with an audible pop. This angle of attack clearly pleased her, as she pulled back slightly and then kicked at Matt's ribs with her powerful, muscular legs, driving the wind out of him. This didn't seem to satisfy her as she kicked again and again, until Matt was whimpering in torment from what must have been two or three broken ribs in his side.

Mercilessly, Bridget straddled his bruised, damaged chest and sat there, grinding her pussy against him for a few seconds while she sucked on her fingers. I was about to scold her for stalling when she reached forward with those newly-wet fingers, and gouged her fingernails into Matt's eye sockets.

Eating a person's eyes is Bridget's trademark move. It doesn't matter who she's snuffing or how, she will ALWAYS find a way to consume their eyes, even if it means taking them from the head after the snuff is finished and the corpse has been readied for cooking. The next few seconds were full of Matt making an indecipherable, agonised noise as Bridget cruelly plucked first one eye then the other out of his head. With an almost childlike giggle, she reached down and pushed one of the eyeballs into her pussy. The other she popped into her mouth and swallowed without chewing.

Janet sighed as I drove my fingers into her and cruelly twisted one of her nipples.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Bridget found new and increasingly exotic ways to inflict pain using only her hands and feet. She dislocated Matt's jaw with a kick, broke his nose with her elbow, broke his arm with a clever application of force and grip. In my arms, Janet moaned and wriggled and enjoyed herself.

“That's enough, Bridget. Fuck him and choke him to death.” She said eventually.

Bridget seemed clearly disappointed at not having more time to play – she had just inserted one of Matt's fingers into her mouth, ready to bite it off – but with a meek “yes, Mistress” she obeyed, pausing only to pull.

Perhaps not surprisingly given the pain he was in, Matt's cock wasn't very hard, but that soon changed as Bridget sucked on it. She was a champion cocksucker herself, and even the gravely wounded snuff-boy quickly came to attention, despite his wounds. With a triumphant smirk, Bridget threw a leg over. She paused long enough to take the eyeball from her pussy and consume it, and then guided the blinded, tied down man's manhood right into her.

She fucked noisily, gasping and moaning without any shame, wrapping her hands around Matt's throat with just enough pressure so that he couldn't breathe easily, especially given his broken ribs. As she humped him harder and harder, her grip got tighter and tighter and, from somewhere, Matt found the reserves of energy to start enjoying the last ride of his life. His own hips started pumping up into her as she shifted to place her forearm as a bar across his throat and rested her whole weight on it, closing off the last of his air.

He died quickly after that, bruised, broken and half dead anyway, the shortage of air didn't need long to rob him of the last of his strength... but what little he had left was channelled into a climax that made him thrash so hard the table actually moved across the deck. By the time he stopped, it was clear that it was because he had expired.

This didn't stop Bridget. Driven into a sexual frenzy by his death, she continued to fuck the cadaver for several minutes until finally she reached her own peak and collapsed, sweating and panting on the body of the man she had just killed.

Janet's own orgasm was nowhere near as visually impressive, but I could tell that it was an intense one anyway. She tensed in my arms, drew a single wavering gasp of air, and then relaxed.

“Bridget” she gasped, after a minute or so to recover. “Mister Lawes is hungry. Go and fry up Sam's cock for him would you, dear?”

“Y....” Bridget could barely get the word out. “yyyes, m-Mistress.”

“Delightful” Janet said to me as Bridget staggered away toward the galley in an exhausted post-orgasmic daze. “Simply beautiful.” She stood up and went to examine Bridget's handiwork.

“I'm almost jealous of the sending off you gave them” I confessed as I poured champagne for us both. “I didn't think you ever fucked or gave pleasure to anyone”

“You could experience that too if you wanted, my love.” She replied, with a wink and a smile.

“You mean I could become the next of your snuff-slaves.” I replied.

“Beloved, I've fingered myself to sleep many times imagining it.”

It may surprise you to learn that I gave the idea serious consideration. None of us are on this Earth forever after all. When my own death comes, I would much prefer it be a snuff rather than some disease, a mishap, lawful execution or simple old age. And witnessing Janet's truly expert sexual prowess had made the idea highly enticing. But....

“Not... yet.” I said as I handed her a champagne. “You would definitely be my first choice, but I'm not in any hurry.”

“Ah yes. That old saying of yours” she smiled.

I raised my glass. “the best things...” I said with a smile.

Her glass met mine with a chime. “Are worth waiting for.”