My collar was locked to the back of the Torture Chair, and straps at my wrists and just below my elbows secured my forearms to the arms of the chair. There were four thick, heavy leather straps attached to the two leg extensions. He fastened one of these straps on each ankle, another just below each knee, and the third and fourth were buckled across each thigh. When He finished, my legs were spread by about 60 degrees and were totally immobilized, parallel to the floor. i had never felt so totally vulnerable in my life.

He walked across the room to a cabinet and removed several items. "Open your mouth," He ordered. When i obeyed, He inserted a rubber tube with a flange at one end. The tube was about 1-1/2 inch in diameter and approximately 4 inches long. It pressed down on my tongue and held my mouth open. i could bite into it, but it was too resilient for me to bite through or collapse more than just minimally. A leather thong was attached to the flange that was now pressing against my lips. He tied the thong tightly behind my head, securing the tube-gag in place. "This," He said, "will let me enjoy all your nice screams while relieving me of any tiring comments from you."

He next placed a headset on me. It was similar to the type used by performers on stage, with a boom-type microphone which He positioned directly in front of the tube gag. How strange it was, i thought, that he would want to prevent me from speaking but yet placed a microphone at my mouth.

He went back to his cabinet and returned carrying two large steel posts with clamps attached. Each post was about 18 inches tall, and He fitted them into holes in the leg extensions next to my ankles. When he was satisfied that they were properly positioned, He grabbed my left big toe and pulled it back toward my knee, flexing my foot back next to the post. He screwed the attached clamp down cruelly on the space between my big and second toes, holding my foot rigidly in place. The clamp dug painfully into my helpless foot, and i thought i could feel the small bones inside bruising by the second. My right foot was then subjected to the same abuse. When he had finished, both my soles were hyperflexed and totally immobilized.

"Hmmmm.... i wonder," He said, dragging a fingernail slowly up my hyperticklish left sole. Despite the dreadful ache in my bones from the clamps, his fingernail on my sole had its inevitable, humiliating effect. My spasmodic, hysterical giggling through the tube gag, my involuntary twitching, squirming, and futile struggling all seemed to delight him. With my feet truly helpless, i realized that He had discovered my fatal weakness--my unbearable ticklishness. i've always HATED being tickled, but He could continue this non-destructive yet devastating torture for as long as it amused him to do so. For the next several minutes He subjected me to one of my worst nightmares as He sadistically scratched both my soles simultaneously with his wicked fingernails.

"But enough of the foreplay," He said at last. "I promised myself I would TORTURE you all day today, and a full day of TORTURE I shall enjoy!"

He stepped behind me, out of my sight. When He returned, He was pushing a small machine. The base was a cube standing just lower than the level of the chair seat and leg extenders. Rising up from the center of the cube was a rotor, fitted with four rubber hoses, each about two feet long, reaching outward horizontally like spokes. These were parallel to the floor and were spaced 90 degrees from each other. He moved the machine so that the end of one of the rubber hoses was touching my right heel, then adjusted the height of the rotor until the hose touched the very center of my right sole. Satisfied that the hose was now at the proper height, He affixed a vertical metal rod into the corner of the cube nearest my foot, then carefully repositioned the machine so that the vertical rod was in line with my right knee and ankle, maybe twelve to fifteen inches from my sole, and the rotor was just to the right of my foot. He manually turned the rotor, causing the hose that had been next to my sole to slide off. The next hose, however, bent backward as it came in contact with the upright rod. He continued slowly turning the rotor with his hand until the tip of the second hose finally snapped past the tripper rod and cracked against my unprotected sole. i yelped at the initial sting, then held back a groan as the deep pain of the rubber ached through to the very marrow of the bones in my foot.

"Ah, yes," He said, "that's the beauty of rubber! It stings the skin and bruises even the deepest tissue, but hardly leaves any marks on the surface at all! But we don't want you to have no souvenirs at all, now do we? So let's improvise a bit. You see," He continued, "the rubber hoses are not stiff enough to stay perfectly horizontal like this on their own. No, inside each one is a thin fiberglass 'whip,' like sections of a fishing rod. So let's just slip a couple of these rubber casings off, to make things more...," he paused, "...interesting." He removed two rubber hoses, revealing the two bare fiberglass whips underneath. i then watched as He just as carefully and methodically positioned another, identical machine by my left foot, again removing two of the four rubber hoses, leaving two more fiberglass whips exposed. "There," He said. "Now the fiberglass whips can slash into your soles, and the rubber hoses will deliver deep, aching agony! Automatic bastinado! I call them the 'feet-beaters!' Ingenious, don't you agree?"

After another trip to his storage cabinet He came back carrying a coil of heavy copper wire. He pulled up a small stool and sat down between my spread legs. He grasped my scrotum in one hand, cruelly pulling and squeezing my balls. With his other hand He wrapped the stiff copper wire around my scrotum several times, between my cock and balls, then brought the wire between my balls, separating them. He wrapped each nut separately then pinched the wire with his fingers, causing it to dig into my helpless balls even after He released them. He cut the wire, leaving about an inch sticking out from my nut sac. He cut a second piece, about 12 inches long, and doubled it. "Guess where THIS is going?!" He said. Initially i assumed He would shove it up my ass, but i realized to my horror that He had an even more diabolical plan in mind as He grasped my cock. "That's right! In it goes!" He began shoving the doubled end of the wire into my piss slit. The wire was smooth, so it didn't cut my urethra as He forced it in, but it hurt like hell as it plowed along the delicate mucous membrane. He bent the two free ends of the wire perpendicular to the portion that was invading my cock, smiling as he said, "Don't want to lose it!" He completed the installation by reaching under the chair and pulling out an electrical cord with an alligator clip attached to the end of each strand. He clipped one to the end of the coils around my balls, and the other to the doubled wire inside my cock.

"In case you're too slow to figure this out--which that terrified expression on your face tells me is NOT the case--this wonderful little device is the 'cock shocker.' Somewhat of a misnomer, of course, because in order to shock your cock, it also has to shock your balls. It's activated by that microphone in front of your mouth. And since the gag is holding your mouth open, the mike can detect even the slightest sound you might make with your voice, so a whimper will get you shocked as surely as a full scream will. Also, since the 'cock shocker' has been programmed to increase the severity of the shock every time it's activated, that little whimper will also kick the next shock up a notch. Let's try it out, shall we?"

He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, then used the fingers of one hand to hold my eyelids open as He shot pepper spray directly into each of my eyes. i screamed in agony, and the cock shocker responded instantaneously with vicious voltage throughout my groin. My second scream, prompted by the shock, was answered by an even stronger charge to my bound, helpless cock and balls, just as He had promised. It was all i could do to silence my screams and merely sob in silence.

"Excellent!" He shouted. "Excellent! I'll give you a few moments to contemplate what this means while I get comfortable." He started to remove his gloves, then stopped, sprayed a bit of the pepper solution on one finger, and smeared it inside my nostrils. i tried to stifle my scream, with only partial success, and was shocked yet again for my efforts. He removed his gloves and dropped them in the trash.

He moved a large leather recliner in front of my Torture Chair, facing me. He extended the footrest and satisfied himself that it would not interfere with the rotating whips and hoses of the 'feet-beaters,' then sat down to make himself comfortable. After several minutes i had calmed down a bit, and He began speaking again.

"You're going to entertain me today," He said. "You're going to do that by torturing yourself. And I'm just going to sit here and watch you do it. And as I watch you suffer I'm going to get hard. Very hard! Eventually, of course, I'll get so horny that I'll have to cum. Oh, but don't worry! That won't interrupt your fun! Oh, no! Then I'll want you to make me hard again, and to make me cum again. And again! AND AGAIN! Yes, you're going to treat me to MULTIPLE ORGASMS today!

"In just a moment, I'll switch on the feet-beaters. Each will run at a slightly different speed, so the whips will hit your feet at irregular intervals. That will help keep you from preparing for them. Sometimes they may, coincidentally, both strike at precisely the same instant. But more often they will be slightly out of synch. As you've already realized, they are adjusted so that each and every strike will hit at EXACTLY the same spot as the one before. First a deep, penetrating ache from a rubber hose, followed by a sharp, cutting slash of a fiberglass whip. Then another deep rubber ache, and another fiberglass slash. Ache/slash; ache/slash; ache/slash. Over and over and over, again and again and again. And always on the same spot! I'm already getting hard just thinking about it!

"Oh, did I forget to mention that you can stop it at any time you like? You can you know. All you have to do is...

"SCREAM!

"The microphone in front of your mouth will register the scream. And as long as you're screaming, the feet-beaters will remain motionless. Until you stop screaming, that is. Once you stop screaming, the feet-beaters will resume their whipping. But they've been programmed so that when they do start again, they'll be going just a little bit faster than before. And, of course, the faster they go, the more intense each strike will be.

"I should probably also mention that only a FULL SCREAM will stop the feet-beaters. Muffled groans or whimpers won't have any effect on the feet-beaters at all. They'll just continue uninterrupted. Of course, your cock and balls will get zapped whenever you make any sound at all, so you might as well scream as loud as you can. But it's your choice.

"Keep in mind, though, that after you've screamed for a while, you'll start getting hoarse. Eventually, you'll get so hoarse that you won't be able to scream loud enough to deactivate the feet beaters. And by that time, you'll also be absolutely unable to keep silent, so i'll get to watch you shocking yourself involuntarily while your feet continue to be tortured. And you won't be able to do ANYTHING to stop it! What FUN!

"So. There you go. You get to decide how you'll entertain me for the next several hours. Will you try to stay quiet as your feet are being cut up and battered? Or will you surrender to your instincts and scream while your pitiful excuses for male genitalia are systematically electrocuted? Hmmm?

"It's going to be very interesting to find out. Very interesting indeed.

"Now. Entertain me! Make me HARD! MAKE ME CUM!"

He raised a remote control unit with one hand and rubbed his obviously swelling erection with the other. i unconsciously shook my head "no," silently begging him for mercy. He responded with an gleeful, "No? Yes! OH, YES!" He clicked the remote control.

The rotors atop both the feet-beaters began to turn slowly. A rubber hose flexed menacingly against the tripper rod at my left sole, while a fiberglass whip threatened my right. Tears of terror streamed down my face as He patiently massaged the growing bulge in his crotch.