Man in the Punishment Rack
Mistress Hilda laughed softly to herself. The BoomerCorp punishment rack was a joy.
She addressed the chained, helpless man. Perhaps he did not hear. She could not fight the urge to gloat.
“You are a most durable chattel. For the past few hours, I have pulled and stretched. But you aren’t broken. Not yet.
“I rarely let men scream. For some reason, I never gagged you. I even let you beg. Poor creature, you knew pleading would never work. Pain forced the words out. Your shrieking nerve ends demanded that you whimper for mercy.
“Your vocal cords quickly failed. Your inarticulate gargling was amusing enough.
“Thank goodness I did not yank off your penis. There are so many torments for it to experience. Suffering you have never imagined.
“I planned to play with you again tonight. Probably I should wait a day. You will sob from aches without me doing anything else to you.
“My own pleasure dictates that you recuperate.
“I will be thinking of you. Planning your future. Even with restraint, I’m not sure how long you are will last.
“Time for me to be looking for a couple of new males. While two recover, the third will be in here with me.
“And I want to buy the scrotal sac press. I’ve heard the anguish melts men’s souls. Well, it would if men had any.
“Your face will be fun to watch.
“Goodnight, plaything. I think I’ll also buy the collar. I’ve never stretched a man’s neck. It should be lots of fun.”