Room CT-1

(feat. artwork by Enduring Inferno, posted with permission)

The sound of the chains and gear clinking and grinding filled the dark room.

“Uggghhhh….uhhhgghhhhh….” Barret groaned as his arms and legs were stretched even tighter. His shoulders and groin burned, his limbs trembling as the chains strained them further from his core.

There was a loud thunk as his tormentor hit the switch on the control panel, stopping the hydraulics. “That’s far enough for now. Don’t want you to strain anything…yet.”

Barrett didn’t know the man’s name. He was a muscular Australian, sporting a Mohawk and rat tail down his neck and constantly holding a lit cigarette in his mouth. Barrett just took to calling him “Mohawk.”

Mohawk gestured toward his pal, Cueball, who handed over a syringe.

“Speaking of straining things, do you know what this is?” Mohawk asked casually. When Barrett didn’t reply, he waved the syringe back and forth. “It’s a special formula our lab boys cooked up: Tri-Mix, Viagra and a few other drugs.”

Barrett frowned, staring at the long needle. His gaze did not go unnoticed.

“Tri-Mix is something porn stars use to stay hard, no matter how many times they cum. The Viagra…well, it’s like gasoline on a fire. Let’s leave it at that. The other shit just makes you sensitive as hell.” Mohawk grinned. “Yeah, you want to feel it. I can see it in your eyes, tough guy.”

Still grinning, he plunged the needle into the base of Barrett’s defenseless dick. Barrett grit his teeth and tried not to cry out. The entire vial was injected into his member. It didn’t take long for the potent serum to take effect. Barrett’s cock rose to full erection quickly. In mere moments, he was rock hard! He bit his lip and tried not to moan as his manhood performed for the sick bastards.

“Got a real hero here,” Cueball muttered, eyeing him. “Doesn’t want to even make a sound.”

“That true, mate? Still not talking?” Mohawk said, smirking around his cigarette. “You didn’t strike me as the stupid type, but what do I know?” He turned to Cueball and nodded. “Turn it on.”

The mysterious cylindrical machine Barrett had spied beneath him when he’s woken up in the chains revved to life. A tall, steel drill-like piece about two inches thick began to rotate, and slowly rose toward him. Barrett’s eyes widened.

“El Jefe has a thing for impaling people. This beauty can drill up through that tight ass of yours and rip you right in half!”

Barrett squirmed in the chains, trying to move his body, but the drill quickly reached him, and started prying open his hole. He groaned quietly as it advanced, pushing into the tight ring of his anus. The machine didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, it just drilled relentlessly. The entire two-inch steel width had forced its way past his sphincter and continued up.

“Uhhhh…uggghhhhhhh….”

“Yeah, he’s feeling that!” Cueball said, smiling broadly.

The pain was getting harder to suppress as the thick metal forced it way inside him. The grooves on the sides scoured his inner tissues. “Ahh-AGGHHH!”

“You starting to see yet?” Mohawk asked. “Holding out is pointless. We’ll make you talk. Only question is how much will be left of you.”

“Uhh…ugghhhh…AHHH!” Barrett cried out. His body was immobile in the chains, he had no where to go. The drill plowed on, deeper and deeper, until its broad tip reached his prostate. The sensitive nerve bundle sent shockwaves of sensation up through his body as the machine made contact.

“Stop it there,” Mohawk ordered. Cueball touched the controls, and the machine halted its inexorable advance…but kept drilling. The effect was immediate. The steel tip spun against his prostate, sending wave after wave of stimulation through his abdomen. His turgid cock twitched with each revolution.

“UGH-UGGH-UGHHHHH! UHH-UGHHHHH!”

“Now that you’re comfortable,” Mohawk said, smirking at him. “We know that you and your friends planted bombs on some of our aircraft—”

“Thirteen bombs,” Cueball interjected, tapping a map of the cartel’s many airfields scattered around the countryside. “We know it was thirteen, because that’s what that Nancy boy Englishman in your squad told us before he croaked on Doc Zimmer’s table.”

Percy, Barrett struggled to keep his expression neutral. He’d been friends with Percy ever since the mission in South Africa.

“Nancy boy screamed like a little bitch while the Doc was working on him.” Cueball added, winking sarcastically.

They’d tortured his friend to death…. Barrett swore to himself he’d kill all of these sadistic fuckers before he was done.

“Yeah he did! So, thirteen nasty little bombs that go off when they reach a random altitude,” Mohawk continued. “You’re going to tell us which planes you sabotaged before we caught you.”

“Fuck you!” Barrett gritted out, straining against the chains.

Mohawk reached out and seized Barrett’s testicles, jerking them out away from his suspended body. “AGHHH!”

“You’re the one who’s gonna be fucked, Barrett. But tell us what we need to know, and maybe El Jefe will make this quick.”

Unlikely. Barrett knew the cartel boss wasn’t going to let him off so easy. His only card to play was that he had information they needed. If he could hold out, maybe he’d get an opportunity to—

With his right hand, Mohawk reached up and began lightly twisting Barrett’s left nipple. The effects of the drug cocktail were becoming more apparent. His thoughts of escape were blasted away as ripples of pleasure mixed with waves of pain from his nuts and shockwaves of discomforting sensation from his ass. “Uhh-UHHHHHH!”

Barrett glared down at Mohawk, but it was getting harder and harder to form a coherent thought as the assault on his body continued.

Mohawk grinned and glanced over at Cueball. “Give him 50 more RPMs.”

In mere moments, the drill was all Barrett could think about. It was scouring the sensitive nerve bundle, sending tremors through his helpless body. He shuddered and panted, but there was no suppressing the terrible sensations that wracked him. “Uggghhhhhuuuhhhhhhh….”

“That’s it,” Cueball crowed. “Look at him squirm!”

“Let me tell you something,” Mohawk said. “Every man who comes in this room thinks he can outlast anything. So strong, so defiant…but they all break. And you will too.”

Barrett snarled. “Fuck…you….”

Cueball laughed. “I think you need to prove it to him.”

Mohawk released the nipple, and slowly slid his hand down Barrett’s sweat slicked torso to his raging erection. His warm hand moved gently into place, then clutched the thick shaft tightly. Barrett grunted as Mohawk began to slowly slide his hand up the swollen member. He reached the tip, sending a fresh shudder through Barrett’s form, then slid back down, picking up speed.

“Umphh…uhhhh…” Barrett couldn’t suppress the moan as his tormentor’s hand worked him faster and faster. The machine, the drugs and the sensations built on each other...Barrett tried to control himself, but he couldn’t. Quickly his body began to tense up, muscles involuntarily pulling against the chains, adding to the pain.

Mohawk showed no mercy, he was pumping Barrett’s cock furiously, not giving his prisoner a moment’s respite from the overwhelming stimulation. All too soon, Barrett’s resistance crumbled, and with a final jerk of Mohawk’s tight hand, his cock erupted. “UUGGHHHH! UGHHHH! UHHHHHH!”

Three jets of cum spurted against Mohawk’s bare chest, splattering against his pecs and dribbling down his abs. The Australian released Barrett’s nutsack and chuckled. “See, mate? You’re no better than any other man we’ve worked on.”

He turned away, reaching for something on the table. He returned carrying a stainless steel rod in his right hand. He waggled it in front of his bound prisoner. “Know what this is?”

Still panting in a post-orgasmic haze, Barrett didn’t answer. His eyes sluggishly tracked the strange tool as Mohawk came closer.

“It’s a urethral sound. Now that that massive fucktool of yours has blown, you’re really gonna enjoy this.”

Mohawk took Barrett’s still quivering cock in his hand, gripping it tightly. With the other hand, he moved the sound into place, circling the tip slowly, letting the cool metal graze the now hypersensitive tip. He paused only for a moment before pressing in, sending the long, narrow rod into Barrett’s slit.

Barrett grunted in discomfort as the sound slowly penetrated deeper and deeper. Mohawk worked silently, driving the rod into Barrett’s cock with medical precision. After a few seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, the rod was in place. Mohawk looked up at him, smirking. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Cueball chuckled as Barrett squirmed. He tried to ignore the presence of the steel sound, but it was hard to keep his attention from zeroing in on it…or the fact that Mohawk was still gripping the other end.

“Did you notice the pattern engraved on the sound, tough guy?” Cueball asked, appearing all too pleased with the situation. Barrett ignored the question, focusing on Mohawk’s cruel expression instead.

“The engraving doesn’t effect the sound being inserted,” Cueball continued. “But just wait until he takes it out….”

On cue, Mohawk slowly began pulling the sound back out. Barrett’s eyes bulged from his skull as agony exploded inside his massive erection! “AHH! AGGH!! AHHHH! AGGHHH!”

“The grooves create friction against the walls of your urethra,” Mohawk said calmly, clinically. He kept his eyes on the sound, pulling ever so gently again.

“AGGHHH! AGGHHHHH! AGGHHHHHHHHHHH! AHH-AHHHHHHH!”

Barrett couldn’t suppress the screams. The pain was unbearable. His hypersensitized cock trembled as the engraved steel sound scoured its insides. Mohawk pushed the sound back into place, then pulled again, moving it barely an inch.

“AHH-AGGGHHHHH-AHHHHH! AHH-AHHHHHHHH!”

Mohawk reversed it, pushing it back in all the way. “Tell us which planes you sabotaged, and this can end.” He said softly. He waited barely two seconds before pulling the sound back, moving it two or three inches.

Barrett bucked in the chains. “AGGHHH! AGHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH!”

Mohawk kept pulling; dragging out Barrett’s anguished shrieks. “Okay, then mate.”

He pushed the sound back in, and immediately began pulling it back out.

END