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2.
Hours past.
I have been
secured on the wheel rack for almost four hours. In that time, my muscles have
completely failed me, my joints have loosened, my ligaments and tendons have
begun to swell and tear under the strain.
My tanned skin
was greasy with perspiration. My armpits were glistering with sweat, and the
aroma of stale sweat and fear betrayed my suffering. My nipples, burned and
blistered, still stood painfully in the air. The reddened and blistered path
down my solar plexus and abdomen was like a trail to the ugly, raw wound that
was the remnant of my once-pretty navel.
Between my
upstretched arms, my head lolled against the iron-studded curve of the wheel
rack, on the pillow of my trapezius. My brows were creased with my suffering,
my eyelids heavy, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks streaked by tears. My mouth was
twisted in a constant grimace of anguish.
"Save
yourself more needless suffering, boy" Samir said. "Tell me where you
have hidden your brother."
"I haven't.
Our guardian arranged for him those foster parents!!! I DO NOT KNOW WHERE HE
IS!" I cried.
"Than what
is that address you gave?"
"That was
the last address I know!! Please...I don't know where he is. Please, when will
you believe me?"
"When you no
longer care if you live or die," he said. "When you are ready to beg
for death, the truth will come easily from your lips."
"No
Pleaseeeee!" I shriek in horror.
"Another
notch," he told Ahmed.
My arched body
was already stretched to its limit, the elasticity of sinew and ligaments
painfully tested. As the rack groaned and the big wheel turned, my wrists were
hauled another fraction of an inch from my anchored feet, and I stretched
further.
"Aaaaaah!!"
The agony
exploded through me. I gave a long scream of pain, unable to bear the torment. "No
more!! It hurts - ohhh!!"
"This is
nothing," he promised me. "Tell me what I need to know." I was
shrieking and gasping. "Unlike the localized pain of the candle torture,
the rack delivers a horror that tears at your very bones, and will surely wrest
the truth from you." He added. I'm staring at the vaulted ceiling of the
torture chamber as I gave a long wail of agony and despair.
"Another
notch," he said.
The rack groaned,
and I gave a shrill scream as the pain tore and ripped through my tormented
body. My stretching limbs were fiercely taut, muscles rigid, my ribcage stark
below my heavy pecs. The creaks and groans of my joints could be heard as they
were subjected to intolerable strain. My hands were curled into claws beyond
the wrist-shackles. Sweat was running down my sides. "Stop! Oh stop,
please, stop!"
"Where is he
hiding? Tell me where!"
"I swear I
don't know!"
"Where is
you brother? Talk, you fucking idiot!"
" I don't
know! I don't know!" I cried in a high voice.
"Another
notch," he told Ahmed.
"Please don't
stretch me!!" I screeched, but Ahmed forced the winch, and I gave an awful scream as
my body stretched a fraction further.
Those who have
suffered on the wheel rack know how tearing and all-engulfing its pain is.
Ultimately, I believed it to be even worse than burning alive, as every sinew
and fibre is distended but the nerves remain intact to feel every moment of it.
Samir stopped.
Gave me time to suffer. There was no urgency, and the pain would only worsen.
Stretched that tightly, I could not draw deep enough breaths to maintain my
screams, but I could not stay silent either.
When ten long
minutes have passed, Master Samir gave Ahmed the order to turn the wheel again.
The heavy machine creaked, and my body stretched a little more.
"Oh God!!
My hips, my hips!! Aiieeee!!" Suddenly I was slamming my head against the studded
wood of the rack, half mad with the pain that tore at my hips. It felt as if my
body was being slowly pulled apart - and it was. As I screamed and
howled in agony, the world began to fade, despite the serum.
I didn’t know how
much time passed.
"Wash him
down."
The pail-full of
icy-cold water was flung over me. The icy impact shocked a scream from my
lungs, tearing me back to lucidity. As water coursed in rivulets over my
pectorials, trickling down the ravine of my belly, quivering droplets covering
my bare skin, goosebumps rose all over my naked body. My burnt nipples
tightened and stiffened, reddish stalks, the darkened aureole crinkling in
response to the cold.
As my eyes
cleared I saw that Samir sat on a chair in front of me. I also felt that the
rack had loosened a bit.
"Rise and
shine." Samir smiled. "Accept my greatest regard. You are far more
stronger than I imagined. Your master would be really proud. You have showed
your braveness. But still, I have to know where your brother is."
"I told
you..." I started but Samir was not finished.
"Yes. You
lied. You can't believe how much I respect your fidelity. Nevertheless, you
have reached the edge of my tolerance. If you do not start to talk I will cause
such pain that will drive you mad. You think you have suffered and endured?
Yes?
I remained
silent.
"Let me
introduce you this little tool." There was a metal gear in his hand. Two opposing, slightly-concave spoons which
could be clamped together with the turn of a handsomely engraved screw. In the
middle of each spoon were two spikes, about half an inch long.
"My preference is always to
avoid such gross methods of torture. But you have left me no choice. It is
among the most psychologically distressing to a man, but seldom fatal, unlike
the pear." He regarded my limp cock, soft and vulnerable and the delicate
eggs of my balls hiding beneath.
With gentle fingers, he took one
warm, round orb between his fingers and thumb, and I jolted in surprise and
pain as he touched my burnt skin. When he closed the cold, heavy iron of the
first crusher over my ball and began to tighten the screw, I gave a whimper. I
was unable to struggle or writhe.
"What … are you doing?"
"If you're so fucking tough, let's
see how you enjoy having the juice squeezed, little by little, out of your
lemons!"
"Oh God - nooooo!"
He compressed the second crusher
onto my other ball and twisted the screw, just enough for the spikes to lightly
press on my testicle. I gave another wail of horror. "Stop!"
"Not a chance," he said,
and twisted the screw. The cups closed, the spikes probed, and the pain leapt
from my squashing balls. My eyes bulged and I gave a shout.
"No, dammit, no! Stop,
please, stop!"
He looked up at me.
My face was twisted in horror and
nausea. Fresh sweat flooded my face. I was pale. My fingers clawed uselessly
beyond the manacles that held me stretched. I was trying to see down between my
legs, where the crushers hugged my testicles like iron clams. "Oh god, please,
don't turn the screw!"
Samir gave a laugh of delight.
"You mean - like this?" He twisted the screw, and as the
spikes pushed cruelly on either side of my testicle, I gave a long shout of
terror.
" Please, Master,
please, take them off!"
He gently agitated the turnscrew of
one crusher, so that I could feel the spikes digging into the sides of my badly
burnt ball.
He twisted the screw. The plates
compressed, and I jolted on the wheel rack, giving a new cry of pain. Samir
tightened the crusher again, then again. I gave another groan as my testicle
began to distort under the pressure. The rounded metal studs of the device
impressed themselves in the sensitive tissue
"Say it!" he urged, and
twisted the screw again.
I gave a howl as my balls are
squashed tighter. "Oh god, take it off!!"
He screwed it tighter.
I let out a long scream of pain,
jolting and thrashing, pumping my hips as if I'm simulating sex, trying to
shake the crusher loose; but I could hardly move. Samir twisted the screw once
again. My testicle was now squeezed to half its normal width, and I howled.
"Still no confession?"
I was still howling and twisting
from my back-wrenched arms with the crusher tight on my testicle. I threw up.
The pain from my testicles was expressed as nausea, and a watery spurt splashed
to the floor from my open mouth. The liquid flowed down from my over-taut body.
"Give him two notches,
Ahmed."
At his instruction, Ahmed pulled
the lever. I gave the most terrible screams.
Samir reached up to the crushers
squeezing my testicles. None too gently, he tightened the looser of the two,
until it compressed my ball into an oblong. My screams were endless.
"Do you think the crushers
need to be tighter ?"
I howled and bucked in my bonds.
Another turn of the screw drove the spikes fully into my balls and the spoons
began to compress my testicle. I was howling like a wounded animal as Samir
again shook and twisted the crusher.
Samir turned the
screw another full revolution and compressed my testicle into a mass about
three quarters of inch thick. A stream of pee flowed from my cock, my eyes
bulging from their sockets and my face dark red. Moans and gasps of agony were
the only sounds that came from my throat. He turned the device's screw again
causing me to bellow like a wounded bull, and then, with one final revolution,
brought the spoons of the device together. My nuts were now less than one half
inch. My body spasmed in my bonds as Samir shook and twisted the device.
I let out one terrible cry and fainted
away from the pain.
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