An Elaborate Arrangement

Disclaimer: the following story is a purely fictional account. Any relationship to any real person living or dead is coincidental. The narrative contains non-consensual torture and death. It is intended for mature readers who wish to view such material, and for whom it is legal to do so. The author in no way condones or promotes such acts in real life.

Copyright © 1998 by POW. For spam prevention, an animal name has been added to the author’s e-mail address. Remove the animal name to get the actual address: POWauthor zebra at yahoo dot com. This story may be freely copied and distributed so long as it is copied in its entirety, unchanged, including the author credit information and disclaimer. Other POW stories are available at https://powauthor.wordpress.com. The author welcomes feedback.

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A casual observer would first notice a figure standing in the center of the small, poorly-lit basement room. The dim light would hide details, but a short look would be enough to show that the figure was male, perhaps in his early twenties, with close-cropped dark blond hair and a well-muscled body. He was standing with his legs apart and, curiously, his arms stretched out wide above his head, which was bowed down so that his chin nearly rested on his broad chest.

Closer inspection would reveal the reason for this unusual posture. Steel bands around his ankles were attached to short chains that led to eyebolts in the concrete floor, keeping his legs spread wide. Matching cuffs on his wrists were fastened to the ceiling, stretching his arms tightly upward and digging cruelly into his wrists.

As the casual observer’s eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, further details would resolve into view. The youth’s fingers were clenched, as though futilely trying to resist the pressure of the tight cuffs on his wrists. His breathing was shallow, and a bit labored. He moved slightly from time to time, lifting up on his toes as far as the ankle chains would allow to relieve the strain in his arms, then sagging back down when the effort became too much. Or sinking down as far as the arm chains could go, trying to bend his knees enough to soothe the ache there. A low moan sometimes escaped his mouth, a sound of terrified desperation laced with resigned despair.

The man was naked, and the observer’s eyes could not fail to notice his exposed genitals. Around the base of his ball sac a wire had been coarsely wrapped, tightly enough that there was no possibility of it slipping loose. A short leader ended in a knot around a ten-pound freeweight, which was hanging at about knee height from his trapped testicles. The weight swayed gently with the bound man’s occasional movements. The balls themselves were pinned beneath the tightly-stretched skin of his scrotum, an angry purplish-red in color. His penis, no doubt a proud specimen when erect, was a shriveled stub. Some sort of probe had been inserted into the slit, small enough to allow urination around it. It was held in place by tape, with a wire leading away, out of sight around the back of his body.

The observer would begin to notice more of the surroundings. Near the man’s head hung two plastic tubes which he could easily reach with his mouth, if he so chose. The far ends vanished into a vast array of other tubes and wires forming a maze around the ceiling, walls, and floor of the small room. In one corner stood a video camera, switched off for now, but focused directly on the center of the space where the naked figure quietly struggled.

Of course, there could be no casual observer. The mastermind behind this setup had planned far too carefully for such a mishap. The soundproofed basement lay beneath a house set deep in the woods, far removed from any beaten path. No visitors were expected, and even if one were to arrive by chance, the dark lights and forbidding silence would be a powerful deterrent. No sound would escape from the basement to attract unwanted attention. No distractions. Events would unfold exactly as planned.

The young man had been in this posture now for only about an hour. The fiery pain in his balls from when the weight had first been dropped had numbed to a dull but ever-present ache, not so difficult to tolerate. Even with that, and his sore arms and tiring legs, all in all he was experiencing more boredom than pain.

With a muted click, bright lights came on in the room. The youth squinted apprehensively in the sudden glare, startled at the change. In the light, his physique was revealed in all its glory. He was a stunningly handsome man, with classic facial features and a well-developed body. A hint of stubble shaded his cheeks and chin, transforming what would have been a face with boyish charm into one with a more masculine roughness. Light fuzz graced his arms, thickening across his powerful chest and trailing down his flat stomach. All over his body, muscles bulged against his tanned skin, writhing sinuously as he moved. He was an awe-inspiring sight.

Perhaps thirty seconds later, a second click and a whirring noise indicated that the video camera had come to life. The man shifted a little in his bonds, and uncomfortably pretended not to notice the gleaming eye watching his every move. He tried briefly to look unconcerned, resolute, even disdainful of his situation, as though it were happening to someone else, but his attempt at bravado quickly dissolved away.

The first jolt of current hit soon after. Wires had been pierced through the soft flesh at the back of his ankles and twisted around the tendons. The current shot between the two leads, coursing up and down the flesh of his legs. Instantly, his muscles cramped, forcing him to bend his legs and stretch himself even tighter against the unyielding chains. His feet left the floor, twitching, leaving him suspended solely by the clamps around his wrists. His fingers spasmodically clenched and released while his breath came in heaving gasps and pained screams. The muscles in his arms fought to support not only his own body weight, but also the force that his leg muscles exerted as the electricity bent them with its power.

For the youth, time seemed suspended while he hung in agony. Though the current switched off again after thirty seconds, each of those thirty seconds seemed an eternity to him as he uselessly struggled for even a hint of relief. Stars floated in front of his eyes as he thrashed his head from side to side, uttering strained gasps and agonized shrieks.

Finally, the end came. His legs straightened out, though they would continue to twitch for some time to come, and he was able again to stand. With the pressure off his wrists, sensation came flooding back, sending lightning bolts of pain shooting down his arms. He hung his head, breathing in heavy sobs, and did not even notice the quiet click of the camera turning off or the extinguishing of the lights that returned the cell to its former gloom.

When next he raised his head, there was a wild look in his eyes. He fought powerfully against the restraints, thrashing and hurling himself about, heedless of the pain in his limbs. The effort was almost comical, since for all his struggles, he never moved more than three inches in any direction. At last he abandoned the escape attempt, and once again stood gasping in recovery. The next time his head came up, the wild look was gone, replaced with one from which all hope had been completely drained.

He stood quietly in the dimness for some time, then, rocking up and down on his toes and moaning softly to himself. His balls were undoubtably starting to send up serious messages of distress, and the clamps on his wrists and ankles were cutting into the nerves of his arms and legs. There was nothing he could do to lessen any of the pain. Time passed slowly, and the young man had no choice but to endure.

The next change in the monotony came with almost no warning. His mind had begun to wander, and he was standing slack-jawed, staring at a small point on the floor of his prison. He heard the faintest hint of a hissing noise, then jerked awake as his mouth, nose, and eyes exploded in fiery agony. His last sight before clamping his eyes shut was of a thin nozzle in front of his face – he had been soaked with some kind of Mace or pepper spray.

Like before, the youth convulsed in his chains. He did not notice the brightening of the lights or the reactivation of the video camera. Heedless of the pain, he fought in vain to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the burning liquid. Failing that, he lashed his head against his shoulder, trying to gain some relief there. It may have helped a bit, but the damage was already done. It would be some time before his tears and saliva could fully wash away the irritant. He would simply have to endure, coughing, choking, and with tears streaming down his cheeks. Again, time crawled as he suffered, and his every sob, his every anguished cry was recorded by the unfailing camera. Eventually, the lights dimmed again and the camera clicked off. The youth was left once more hanging in the dimness, exhaustedly coughing out the final spasms and fearfully awaiting the next episode of his ordeal.

The planner of this event had provided for a number of such diversions for the young man in the coming days, all fully automated and regulated by various timers and switches. All of it would be recorded by the patient camera. The man’s agony was expected to last for about two weeks. By the end of that time, he would be reduced to a quivering wreck whose every nerve sent nothing but bursts of fire to his brain.

The tubes near his face were connected to tanks of water and liquid nourishment. Of course, the youth could always refuse to eat or drink, but the planner knew this was unlikely. Hunger and thirst, combined with the knowledge that food and drink were only inches away, would overcome any resistance he might try to offer. Especially since he would have nothing else to think about for all that time.

The various timers would activate in their course. The most frequent would be the electric jolts through the legs, coming randomly several times a day. Within a day or so, his hands would become completely numb and useless as his wrists tried to bear a strain they were not at all designed for. Before that happened, though, another switch would activate a heating element coiled around his left index finger. The element would remain on until it had burned his finger completely to char, in the process cauterizing the stump that remained. A similar coil was wound around each of the other fingers. One a day they would trigger, for the next nine days. Perhaps he would feel the later ones; perhaps not.

On day three, yet another electrical current would switch on. This one would run through the wire wrapped around his ball sac and connect with the probe in his cock. Unlike the leg current, this would be low-powered, and it would never shut off. Instead, it would steadily grow in intensity. The planner expected that somewhere around day ten or eleven, the current would be strong enough that the heat generated would cook the young man’s penis and perhaps some of his bowels, too. By then his balls would have gone necrotic and his hands would be devoid of fingers.

Other events included an acid drip onto his naked shoulders, a flame from a gas jet aimed at each nipple, and a periodic whipping on his back from leather straps embedded with shards of glass, attached to a rotating drum. There was a pitching machine at the far end of the room, set to randomly emit high-speed baseballs aimed at his taut stomach. A small tube inserted in his rectum would, when activated, exude more of the chemical irritant the man had already experienced in his eyes onto the tissues of his rectum. And in a later part of the sequence, a tube would open up over each foot, releasing a stream a liquid nitrogen onto his toes.

Throughout it all, the man would be conscious and aware. Sound sleep would be denied him, for the bright lights would snap him awake one minute before the onset of each event. The mastermind had ensured that none of the individual tortures were lethal, and in fact did not even know what would be the final straw that would push his young victim over the edge. But the faithful camera would record all the relevant moments.

It was perhaps ironic, then, that the planner would never see the final videotape. Once all the torments were completed, every switch thrown and reset, the planner would be dead, hanging from the ceiling of a basement room, suspended by two chains connected to arms that ended in ten blackened stumps.