From White Tiger 1996.

    what can I say, I love up the ass stuff

Four men stood in the middle of a room.  All four wore speedos.  First was John, a tall muscular farm boy with short curly blonde hair and lightly tanned skin.  Second was John's best friend Jerry, a tall slender man with short straight sandy hair and the long lanky body of a swimmer.  Third was Jerry's twin brother Peter, a tall slim man with short curly hair and without the muscle definition of his brother, but no excess weight either.  Peter was the only one of the four that wore glasses.  Lastly was Peter's best friend George, shorter than the other three but huskier and thicker than the other three with short straight brown hair.



In what order do these four take a bullet?

Bob left his trident stuck in George's chest and ran back toward the wall where the weapons hung.  He grabbed a sword and knife and turned around just as Paul came up to him.  Bob held his sword and knife ready as he walked away from the wall, keeping his eyes on Paul's sword.  They had made it almost to the middle of the arena when Paul swung toward Bob.  Bob blocked the sword with his sword and slid his knife in below Paul's deep round navel.
"uuhnh!" grunted Paul as Bob pulled the knife out and stepped back.
Paul clenched his teeth and held his sword ready again.  Paul thrust his sword toward Bob's chest, but Bob stepped to the side and drove his knife to the hilt in the middle of Paul's rounded belly about an inch above his belly button.
"Ohh!" grunted Paul as Bob pulled the knife out and stepped back.
Paul looked down at the blood running down his belly and shook his head.  Paul steeled himself and raised his sword again.  Paul swung wildly at Bob and Bob darted to the side and slid his knife in on the right side of Paul's navel.
"Oohhh!" groaned Paul as Bob twisted the knife, then pulled it out.
Paul's legs were unsteady as he raised his sword again.
"Stop sticking that thing in my gut.  If you're going to stab me, make it fatal." said Paul through clenched teeth.
"I already have, it just takes a while to die from those wounds." said Bob.
Paul thrust toward Bob's belly, but Bob blocked it and slid his knife in on the left side of Paul's navel.
"Yaaahh!" screamed Paul as Bob turned the knife back and forth, then pulled it out.
Paul could barely stand up and struggled to hold his sword up.
"Stop it!  Stop it!  Stop it!  If you're going to kill me, do it.  Don't drag it out like this." said Paul angrily.
Paul raised his sword and Bob lowered the point of his to touched Paul's stiff dick.
"Maybe I should just cut it off?" asked Bob and a stream of cum shot out of Paul's member.
Paul took a step forward and dropped his sword.
"I'm done.  I!  I! can't breathe." gasped Paul.
Bob put the point of his knife below Paul's sternum and slid it up under his ribs.
"Acck!" gagged Paul as he drew to his full height and a thick rope of cum came out of his dick.
Paul fell back with his eyes wide.  He lay flat on his back gasping for a few seconds, then he stopped breathing and his dick lay down flat on his belly.  Bob stepped back and raised his sword over his head.  The Gamesmaster gave a signal to his archers.  Bob's eyes widened as he was forced back by the impacts of twelve arrows as they hit his upper abdomen tracing the arch of his ribs cage.
"Son of a..." gasped Bob.
Twelve more arrows punched into his vulnerable stretched belly and Bob grimaced in pain as cum shot out of his dick.
"But I won." groaned Bob as he fell back.
Blood ran from the corner of Bob's mouth as his dick lowered onto his belly.  After their bodies were taken from the bloody arena floor the Gamesmaster came to the holding area and personally sliced off each of their members to be bronzed and mounted in his trophy room under pictures of the gladiators when they were alive and pictures of their death poses.

    test item for others to use

The rebels were rounded up and staked out for all to see.

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You Guys Are Next

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I've been fantasising about how amazing the sensation would be to fall onto a blade against this leather chair. If I had to be executed and was given a choice, I would want to choose this method.
My executioner would strip me naked, place the blade's tip in my bellyhole and my own weight would do the rest.
As the blade pierces through my tight abs, the sharp pain makes me rock hard. The hilt of the weapon soon enters my bellyhole, and my thighs and chest enjoy the sensuous feel of the leather against my skin. My abs tighten even harder against the invading blade. My strong hip thrusts make my manhood rub against the smooth leather then I soon cum in a massive fountain of ecstasy.
I'm very interested to know if anyone else here has ever had a similar fantasy?