Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Keep It Up



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 male-on-male torture of a sexual nature.  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 © 2013 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 http://powauthor.blogspot.com.  The author welcomes feedback.


Keep It Up


Friday, mid-morning

"Don't do it.  Don't do it.  Please don't do it.  Don't.  Don't do it."

Dan kept intoning the words as if they were a chant, an incantation, words that were more than words, words that had the power to change reality.

They weren't.

Teo plugged the cord into the socket.  Nothing happened, of course, or at least nothing visible.  Dan kept chanting his magical spell, so caught up in the routine that it took his brain a few seconds to recognize that the reality he hoped his words would avert had already come to pass.

"Game on," Teo said in his too-casual voice once Dan saw what had happened and stopped his monologue.  "Keep it up, buddy."  Dan could see on Teo's face and hear in his voice the barely-contained smug-cat smile at the pun he had spent so much time setting up.

This was it, then.  The countdown had started.  Twelve hours to go, twelve hours in which he had to keep his dick erect.  Throbbingly, pulsatingly hard.  With no break, no chance to soften up, even for a second.

Or else.




The previous evening

The day spent at the conference had gone well enough.  Dan was only there as a spectator, really - it was Laura and Collette who had to actually pitch their product.  Dan's job was partly to be there for technical backup if needed and partly to wander around the exhibit space, checking out the competition and schmoozing with their various customers and prospects.

It was enjoyable enough, and a great change of pace from the usual office routine, but still, work was work.  All three of them agreed that relaxing in the bar they had found near the hotel afterward was a far better way to spend time than watching PowerPoint presentations and picking up logo-emblazoned swag.

The waitress brought a glass over.  "Dos Equis," she said, setting it down on the table halfway between Dan and Laura.  "From the gentleman in the navy blue shirt there at the bar."

"Right on time, Laura!" Dan gibed.  "You can't be in a place five minutes without some guy buying you a drink!"  Collette chuckled as well.

"Oh, no," the waitress called over her shoulder.  "That's for you, sir."

Collette's chuckles turned to a long, low, "ohhhhhhh" and Laura raised her eyebrows theatrically high.  Dan spun around in his seat, scanning the bar and sure enough, there was a guy in a navy shirt and jeans facing their table.  He raised his own bottle in a brief salute, then turned his face back to the barkeep.

After that, of course, Collette and Laura wouldn't let it drop.  There was really nothing Dan could do to stop them; protesting his straightness would only make them go after him all the harder.  So he tried at every opportunity to move the conversation to the events of the day at the conference, or the Super Bowl coming up in two weeks, or anything else.  No good.  They kept at it.

"Look around," Laura said.  "There are only six women here, and we're two of them.  Everyone else is male."

"That's not conclusive," Collette insisted.

"Good point," Laura agreed while Dan checked his phone for messages for the tenth or eleventh time.  "We should make sure.  Excuse me," she said, leaning over to the next table over, where three guys were sitting.  "We're from out of town, and I have to ask... is this a gay bar?"

"No," one of her targets replied.  Dan, who had of course been listening carefully while pretending to be engrossed with his phone, was about to bark out a laugh, but the man continued.  "Not usually.  But you're here on a Thursday, and Thursday is gay night."  Dan clamped his mouth shut and felt his ears redden.

"Thanks," Laura told him.

"Had to be," crowed Charlotte.

There was no stopping them after that.  Both insisted that the polite thing to do would be to invite Navy Shirt over to thank him.

"No way," Dan said.  "That would be leading him on.  Not cool."

"No, what's not cool is not even speaking to him!  You should tell him 'thank you', it's just being polite.  You don't owe him anything more than that."

It was finally settled - to Dan's chagrin - when Charlotte got up and walked over to the bar.  Dan could do nothing but shake his head in frustration the whole time she was gone.



Friday morning

"Didja ever watch those old Adam West Batman shows?" Teo asked.  Up until then, the room had been oddly, almost eerily silent.  Neither man had spoken since the device had been turned on some minutes ago, and the sound of Teo's voice sounded too loud in Dan's ears, startling him like a shout in a cathedral.  "You know what I could never understand?  The evil villain and his minions would set up this elaborate demise for the Caped Crusader and his hunky sidekick, and then they'd just LEAVE.  What the heck?  I don't get that.  That'd be like baking a cake and frosting it and then throwing it away.  Wouldn't they want to stick around and watch?  Oh, I'm sorry, I'm distracting you, and you need to keep your focus.  I'll shut up now."

Sure enough, even that brief distraction had caused Dan's dick to soften just the slightest bit.  It had been making a 30-degree angle with the horizontal and now it had dipped to maybe 25.  That was not enough to be catastrophic, but it was definitely a trend he wanted to reverse.  With an effort, he turned his thoughts away from the ropes holding him securely to the wooden frame behind him, away from the chill air of the basement room, toward more erotic thoughts.  He closed his eyes, the better to shut out the bare concrete walls around him and imagine blond hair, curved hips, a swelling pair of breasts filling out the top of a pale purple sweater...

He risked a peek down.  It was working - his cock had climbed back up to its highest point.  It was odd seeing the head wrapped in tinfoil, like some kind of space helmet on a tiny astronaut.  The foil weighed hardly anything at all, so it wasn't pulling his dick down toward disaster, which was a small mercy.  He just had to keep his concentration, keep thinking nice, safe, happy thoughts for another... he risked another peek through squeezed-shut lids to check the clock Teo had thoughtfully placed in his line of sight... eleven hours and forty-seven minutes.

Oh, God.




Thursday evening

"Dan, this is Teo," Charlotte said, her glee at the sight of Dan's discomfort only thinly disguised.  Dan stood up and offered his hand for a shake.  Navy Shirt was a handsome enough guy... not that Dan was in the habit of rating other men's attractiveness, but he knew how to size up a potential rival, and that was pretty close to the same thing.  Teo's dark wavy hair, dimpled smile, and comfortable, confident stance would have given him an edge with the ladies if the ladies were what he was interested in.  But they weren't, and it was time to lay out the way things stood.

"Hi, Teo, listen, thanks for the beer..."

"... but you're straight.  I figured.  That's cool.  Is it OK if I join you guys anyway?  Gets kinda boring up there at the bar..."

To Dan's great surprise, Teo turned out to be an OK guy, maybe even a pretty cool one.  He had a smooth, easy way of talking that let him converse equally well with any of the three of them, discovering a shared interest in skiing with Laura, a town in Mexico that both he and Charlotte had visited, and to Dan's delight, he was a fellow Falcons fan, something Dan had not expected to find in Sacramento.  Another coincidence - both he and Teo enjoyed old-style pinball games, and there just happened to be a machine in this very bar.  "You gotta go a round with me," Teo said, pointing at Dan with a swizzle straw.  "I can never find <i>anyone</i> who actually knows how to play."

The evening wore on.  Dan could feel the tension leaving his neck and shoulders - that was always where stress built up for him, in the muscles supporting his head.  They talked and joked.  Dan bought the next round of drinks, getting himself out from under any sense of obligation to Teo while magnanimously including the women so as not to make it obvious that's what he was doing.  Before long, he had a smooth buzz on and was feeling pretty good.

Charlotte was the first to call it quits, and Laura went with her.  Dan would have gone, too, but Teo convinced him to join him for that pinball game before heading back to his hotel.  Dan sort of wished Laura and Charlotte would stay, but they had to be up early the next day for more presentations, while Dan's only job at the convention was to show up.  He thought of begging off, but the lure of the game was strong, and it wasn't like this was a "date" or anything, right?  So the ladies left, and Dan and Teo finished up their beers and headed over to the machine, which was off in a small alcove along with a vintage Pac-Man console and a foosball table.  No one was at any of the games as they entered the alcove.

"After you," Dan gestured to Teo, who ducked his head and stepped up to the game.  He was good, a bit better than Dan, even, but then Dan had never made a career or anything out of his love of pinball - it was just a game, a hobby.  Perhaps that lack of total dedication was what made him find it hard to stay focused on the game.  His eyes kept trying to glaze over, causing him to have to shake himself into alertness again.  Or perhaps it was the beer...

Teo racked up over a million points - impressive, but the counter incremented by thousands, so not that impressive - and then it was Dan's turn.

He shook his head before launching the first ball to clear a little of the buzz from it, and settled in.  He had never played on this particular machine before, but that was no big concern: he knew these games and besides he had just watched Teo playing and so had some idea what the strategy was.  It all went well at first, but he found himself having a hard time concentrating.  The ball would seem to suddenly jump from one place to another, and his eyes would swing past it, overcompensating for where they thought it should be.  He shook his head again and again.

He was playing his third ball when all of a sudden he couldn't feel his fingers on the flipper controls any more.  From a long way off, he heard Teo's voice saying "hey, there, buddy, everything OK?"

"I'm fine," he answered, or thought he answered, but he couldn't be sure because suddenly the pinball machine was looming over him instead of the other way around and he couldn't quite follow what was going on any more...




Friday morning

This was an impossible task.  It had only been forty-five minutes and already Dan had come near to disaster four times.  There was no way he could possibly keep his cock hard for another eleven hours more.  It was so tough because it had to be all mental.  If he could have just reached down and touched himself every now and then, given himself a few quick strokes, it would have been much easier.  But the way he was tied prevented that.

The position he was in was not uncomfortable, which was a good thing if he was going to spend twelve hours in it.  He was wearing a straitjacket which held his arms crossed in front of his chest.  He had experimentally tried to wiggle them loose, but concentrating on how much freedom he could find for his hands had distracted him from the erotic thoughts that he was required to maintain and when he realized that the foil-covered tip of his dick had started to droop down toward the metal bar that waited below, he was forced to abandon the attempt to work himself loose.

His body was tied to a wooden frame, feet about shoulder-width apart, knees able to bend slightly if he was willing to lift his feet off the floor and let the straps and ropes support his weight.  It allowed him to shift around a bit so that the discomfort of standing in one place would not tear his mind away from the thoughts he needed to maintain.  He was able to move his head, to clench and unclench his fingers, to twist his forearms, to wriggle his toes, even shake his hips enough to waggle his stiff flagpole back and forth.  So he wasn't totally immobilized...

...but he couldn't move enough in the one way that mattered!

The metal bar below his dick ran horizontally from left to right.  It was far enough away that there was no risk of him pushing his hips too far forward and touching it.  His balls might have been able to reach it, but only if someone were to grab them and stretch them out.  On their own, they weren't going to make contact.

His cock, on the other hand, could reach it easily.  In fact, if his efforts to keep it stiff and hard and filled with blood failed, it <i>would</i> make contact as it softened and drooped downward.

And that absolutely could not, must not, happen.




Friday, pre-dawn

Dan woke up slowly, in a daze.  His head felt fuzzy, stuffed with cotton.  His mouth was so dry he had to peel his tongue off of his palate.  He was lying on his side and as he roused, he became aware of a damp spot under his cheek where he must have drooled while he was sleeping.  He went to roll away but found that his hands wouldn't move.  They were trapped next to his body.  He pulled and yanked, but couldn't seem to work them free.  He must have really thrashed around in his sleep, gotten himself wrapped up good and tight in the blankets...

"Morning, sunshine.  Technically, at least."  Dan's eyes shot open and he looked around, blinking in disorientation.  The voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it right away.  Then a face moved into his fuzzy field of view - Teo, still wearing the navy blue shirt he'd had on at the bar.

"Whoa..." he croaked.  "Teo... what the?"

"I never know how to best play this part of the script," Teo mused.  "With some guys, I string them along a while, letting them figure things out at their own pace.  With others, I bully them right away, you know, shout at them, slap them around...  You, though?  You seem like the kind of guy who appreciates straight talk.  Ha - there's a gay joke there waiting to be made, but I'll refrain."

Dan had by this time squirmed around enough to discover that the reason his hands were stuck was because they were inside the sleeves of some kind of canvas shirt he was wearing, and the ends of the sleeves were fastened to the bottom of the shirt.  This led to the blossoming realization that the shirt was not a shirt at all.  He was wearing a straitjacket..

Oh, shit.  "What... why..."

"You mean, what is happening to you, why are you wearing a straitjacket?  Well, here are the straight-talk answers to those questions.  You're here because I drugged you and brought you here.  You're wearing the jacket so you won't escape.  And what's happening is I'm planning to have some fun with you."

"Dude, I told you, I'm not gay."

"Oh, not that kind of fun, though I admit it would be tempting.  No, we're going to have a different kind of fun.  But I need you to be rested up and to get the drug out of your system.  I didn't give you all that much in your last beer there at Quivver's, but for your own sake, you need to be totally in control before we start.  So sleep some more if you want - it's 4:30 in the morning, in case you were wondering.  Or get up and do some jumping jacks, pace around, whatever you want."

Dan tried to slick some more saliva around in his mouth.  "What I want is to leave."

"Ha.  OK, then almost whatever you want."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Dan felt his anger surge, making his head throb painfully.  If he could trust his muzzy senses, then what was happening to him was the sort of thing that you heard about happening to college sorority girls.  Pickups gone wrong, guys who wouldn't take no for an answer, drugs, date-rapes...  But he was no sorority girl, he was a 34-year-old man!  No one did shit like this to him!  Something was not right, someone was playing a very poor-taste joke, it had to be...

"Seriously, man, get this thing off.  Lemme out of here.  Joke's over."

Teo came in and leaned down over the ratty sofa that Dan lay on, drawing his hand back and delivering a slap to Dan's face that made his ears ring.  While he was still stunned from the blow, Teo leaned down, bringing his face right up against Dan's.  Then, abruptly, he grabbed Dan's head and planted a kiss directly on his lips.  Dan was appalled.  He clamped his lips tightly shut but could still feel Teo's tongue flickering against his skin.  He tried to turn away but was held firm By Teo's strong hands, and without the use of his own hands, it was impossible to get enough leverage to force him off.  He had to wait, feeling the flush of the slap spreading across his cheek, holding his breath until he could hold it no longer, then expelling it explosively out his nose and sucking more air in.  Still Teo held the pose until Dan found he couldn't get enough air through just his nose and had to open his mouth to breathe.  Teo let him grab a quick gasp, but then his tongue was diving between Dan's parted lips, caressing his teeth and gums while Dan protested and fought, disgusted at the unwelcome intruder in his mouth.

Finally Teo released him.  "Was that enough to convince you that I'm not joking?  If not I can provide as much evidence as you need... pleasure... or pain.  I am absolutely serious about this.  You are my captive.  This is no joke.  Got that?"

Dan wiped his mouth on the sofa cover while Teo was speaking.  What was the best way out of this?  Play along, let the guy get his rocks off at Dan's expense, or try to fight him?  Fighting might be possible - without his hands it'd be tough, but he might be able to take this guy down with just his legs.  He started to sit up and found that one leg wouldn't move very far - his ankle was chained to the sofa.

So much for fighting.  "Fine," Dan replied.  "I'm convinced.  You're not joking.  So... what do I have to do?"

"Oh, we're not ready to start yet.  I'll tell you when it's time."

"No, really, now's fine.  I mean, I want to get out of here as soon as possible, how 'bout we just get on with it?"

"In some kind of a rush, are we?  Slow down, buddy, relax.  The game I have in mind will take twelve hours, so there's no..."

"Twelve hours?!?  No way!  I have to catch a plane at 5:15 tonight!"

Teo stared at him for a long while.  "What?" Dan asked when the silence grew too uncomfortable.

"Dan, you say you believe I'm not joking, but I don't think you've worked things out all the way.  That's understandable, you're still waking up, but think: you have been abducted.  Your normal life has taken a detour."  His voice had started out in a conversational tone, but quickly began to rise.  "When something like this happens, you don't worry about making your fucking plane to Atlanta, you don't worry about fucking airline cancellation fees," - now he was flat-out shouting in Dan's face - "you worry about getting out of the experience alive, got it?  Because you have no idea what I'm capable of, you have no idea what I have planned for you.  For all you know, I could be the next Jeffrey Dahmer, ready to slice you up and display the pieces over my fireplace in color-coordinated plastic baggies!"  He paused for breath.

Dan said nothing in response to this, but he could feel the blood draining out of his face, his balls clenching up tight into his belly.  Teo held the belligerent pose, snarling, then abruptly relaxed.  When he spoke again, it was in the original conversational tone.  Dan couldn't tell if the shouting had been Teo's real self leaking out from under the controlled facade, or just an act intended to unnerve him.  Either way, it had worked: he was unnerved.  Deeply.

"OK, good, I can see that we have an understanding.  Now, having said that, as it happens I'm not Jeffrey Dahmer.  I don't plan to kill you.  As I started to say, the game I have in mind will last twelve hours, and if you play it well, you will be free to go, totally unharmed.  'K?  I'm no killer, I don't want your blood."

It was hard to get the words out through his dry mouth and fear-choked throat.  "What do you want, then?"

"Your pain."




Friday, noonish

Two hours and eleven minutes in.  There was no way he was going to make it all the way to the end.  He wondered what it would feel like when it happened, what it would feel like to have 120 volts of electricity flowing into the tip of his dick and out through his foil-wrapped balls... but no, that was wrong, volts didn't "flow", it was current that flowed, V = IR, voltage equals current times resistance, so if he knew how many ohms of resistance his dick would offer, he could divide that into a hundred and twenty volts to calculate how much current there would be, and...

No.  Breasts.  A round, full ass.  Warm, feminine lips wrapped around his shaft, yes, that was it, that was the thought that he kept coming back to, the thought had kept him safe so far.  Kaylie, his ex-wife, for all her neurotic flaws, had been a champion head-giver.  She knew just how to enfold his dick with her tongue and lips, teasing him and pulling him and massaging him until he would beg her for release.  He could feel those lips now, engulfing him, drawing him in, keeping his cock good and hard...

That was what he had to think about.  Not the electrified bar that sat there, patiently waiting for him to lose the battle, for the foil-wrapped head of his dick to sag down and make contact, completing the circuit.  The foil around his balls was connected to the other wire, the one that was not clamped to the bar.  The only thing keeping the circuit open, the only thing stopping trillions of electrons from flowing through him like a waterfall, was his ability to sustain erotic thoughts, and so erotic thoughts were what he needed to have now...

Lips...

Breasts...

A tight, warm, pussy to sink himself into...




Friday, early morning

There was no way Dan was going to get back to sleep, but Teo was adamant that they couldn't start until the drug was completely out of Dan's system.  So he lengthened the chain that held Dan to the sofa so that Dan could pace back and forth, to work off the alcohol and whatever else he'd been given.

The room they were in was smallish, maybe ten feet by twelve.  It had no windows and was lit by just a pair of camping lanterns.  The walls were bare concrete; the only furnishings were the sofa Dan was lying on, a small table, and a wooden chair.  Against one wall was a wooden scaffold, apparently fixed to the wall.  If it had a purpose, he couldn't figure out what it was.

Standing up, emerging from under the think blanket that had covered him, he discovered that the straitjacket was the only thing he was wearing - all his clothes, including his underwear, were missing.  That was startling enough, but then Teo pointed them out, neatly folded in a pile along with the rest of Dan's luggage.  Luggage that shouldn't have been here, wherever "here" was, luggage that should have been back in the...

"What the... you broke into my hotel room?"

"Of course not!  I used the key you so kindly gave me before you fell asleep in my car!  Then I went up to your room, mussed up the bed, moistened a towel and such, then packed up your stuff and brought it out to the car.  I'm sure the auto-checkout receipt is under your door by now, but people leave those things behind all the time.  Yeah, as far as the hotel's concerned, you had a normal, uneventful checkout this morning.  They have no idea that you actually left much earlier for an unscheduled trip to Stockton."

"Stockton?  Where the hell is Stockton?"

"Doesn't really matter, does it?  Nice abandoned warehouse in the old industrial area.  Downstairs in the basement, thick reinforced concrete walls, good and soundproof... it's really the perfect setup for this."  But he wouldn't offer any more details.  He also wouldn't let Dan get his clothes.

As Dan paced, he tried to extract more details from Teo about what was to come, about where they were, about when Teo might let him go.  Teo simply, smilingly, declined to provide any useful information.  All he would offer were cryptic non-answers like "it's kind of a test, sort of" and "really, you shouldn't have any trouble at all".

Eventually Teo provided him with breakfast and a bathroom stop, which was a bit of a production - Teo strung another chain between Dan's ankles, then unhooked him from the sofa.  He held on to the long chain, following behind while Dan shuffled out the door of the small room they were in and down a short, dark hallway, lit only by one of the camping lanterns.  The bathroom was filthy and Dan was grateful he didn't have to sit on one of the grimy toilets.  Instead, he could let his stream fly into a fixture that would likely never be flushed clean with fresh water.  Teo then led him back to the cell.

In the hallway, without warning, Dan spun around began to shout at the top of his lungs.  Teo jumped back, startled, but hung on to the chain.  Dan began to run toward the far end of the hall, continuing to shout for help as loud as he could.  He was able to shove past Teo, but after that things went downhill.  He felt an enormous yank on the chain that was fixed to his left ankle, the one Teo still held in his grip.  His foot went out from under him; he tried to catch himself with his right foot, but that was hooked to the left and therefore was pulled out behind him as well, far enough that he overbalanced and went tipping forward, trying to catch himself with his arms but those, too, were useless and so he thudded to the floor, just barely holding his chin up enough that it didn't crash down onto the concrete.  His shouts abruptly ceased.

He lay there, the wind knocked out of him, and then felt himself being dragged backward by the chain around his ankle.  It hurt, so he tried to sit up.  He failed.  Teo continued to pull him along.  To Dan's surprise, he didn't seem angry or resentful about the escape attempt, but was taking it in stride.  "Wait.  Stop," he called.  "I'll walk."

"OK," Teo replied, as serene as ever.  He helped Dan stand, then followed along while Dan meekly walked back into the small room.

"Why aren't you mad?" Dan asked while Teo re-chained him to the sofa.

"Why should I be mad?  Of course you'd try to escape.  If you hadn't I'd have been surprised.  But now you've learned that any escape attempt is useless and that you can shout all you want and no one will hear you through the concrete.  I could have told you, but it wouldn't have made any difference.  You needed to learn it for yourself, so you'd have tried anyway.  This way, now you've got it out of your system."




It was four hours later, 8:30 in the morning, that Teo finally judged Dan ready to begin.  He led him down the hall for another bathroom trip, then brought him over to the wooden scaffold-like thing and fastened him in place, taking his time getting each rope exactly right.  Dan had never been tied up before and found that having all ability to move taken away from him was frightening, even terrifying.  Not that there was anything he could do about it... he struggled, but with his arms wrapped up tight and his leg still chained to the sofa, there was no way to escape or fight his way out.  Teo had all the advantage, and could simply step away, let Dan exhaust himself, then flip a line around a wrist or a knee and start pulling.  Bit by bit, line by line, Teo hitched Dan into place.  Temporary attachments secured his body until they were replaced with permanent lashings, with Dan rendered nothing more than a bystander, a passenger in his own skin.

At last Dan's struggles eased up and he relaxed, panting, into the cradle of the ropes.  To his surprise, he found that while the bondage was restrictive and frustrating, it wasn't actually uncomfortable.  He could bear his weight on his feet if he wanted, or relax his legs and let the ropes hold him up.  When Teo knelt on the floor in front of him and took his balls into his hand, Dan was disgusted and his instincts told him to protest, but he was able to bite back whatever he would have said.  It would have done no good, after all; anything he could say would only be for the amusement of his captor.  Better to take whatever was coming like a man.

The position of his arms crossed in front of him prevented him from seeing whatever it was that Teo did down at his crotch.  He could tell there was a rope involved - he could feel it going around the base of his balls, not too tight, just tight enough to keep them down in their sac.

Then Teo explained how the game would work, about the purpose of the metal bar that would be placed in front of him, about the aluminum foil, the wires, the socket into which the plug would go, charging the system up.  Dan's first reaction was disbelief.  This could not, absolutely could not, bet happening.  As Teo calmly and implacably insisted that, yes, this was all real and would be starting any minute now, Dan began to thrash and shout again.  He couldn't help himself.  "No!  No, you can't do that!"  Teo ignored his protests.  Dan tugged against his bonds with all his might - nothing.  He shouted, he begged, he pleaded.  It didn't matter.

Finally, stymied again by the total lack of reaction from Teo, he took a break from his hollering and hung limply from the ropes.  It was then that he felt a warm wetness engulf his flaccid dick and he craned his neck to see what was happening.  Teo had knelt down, sucked Dan's dick into his mouth, and was massaging it with his tongue.

It was offensive... but it was also funny.  "Ha!  You think you're gonna get me hard doing that?" Dan snorted.  Teo ignored him.  Dan wasn't worried.  This sick plan of his depended on Dan's dick actually stiffening up, and under these conditions there was no chance in hell of that happening.  The idea of being blown by a guy was disgusting enough to begin with, not to mention the strapped-down position, the concrete walls... the whole atmosphere was wrong.  Teo's twisted little game would be over before it began.  Dan smugly leaned his head back and had just enough time to start thinking about how Teo might react once he realized his plan was thwarted when he felt the first stirrings in the pit of his stomach.

No...

To Dan's horror, his dick began slowly, inexorably swelling!  He tried to fight the feeling, but it was like trying to not think of an elephant - the harder he tried and the more he thought about it, the faster he failed to prevent his erection from growing.  There was nothing he could do to stop it.  His head knew that the tongue caressing his shaft belonged to a man, and not just any man but a fucking pervert who he would beat to a pulp first chance he got.  But his dick didn't care!  It only knew that that the warm, wet embrace felt good, and it responded the way it always had.  Before three minutes had passed, his cock was fully hard and pulsing with each beat of his heart.  Teo let the head slip out from between his lips and stood up.  He wrapped a length of spare rope around the base of Dan's cock and balls and tugged it tight, trapping the blood in Dan's dick and preventing it from softening too quickly.

The bar was pushed into place; the foil was wrapped around the tip of his dick; wires were attached.  Dan realized that everything Teo had told him would happen was about to start happening.  "Don't do it," he began to whisper, not wanting to humiliate himself by begging but unable to fathom living through the next twelve hours.  "Don't do it.  Please don't do it.  Don't.  Don't do it."

Teo loosened the rope around his cock and Dan was on his own to maintain his erection.  The plug went into the socket, instantly and invisibly transforming the harmless unelectrified metal rod into a terrifyingly painful electrified one.  And the only thing preventing Dan's dick from becoming the switch that completed the circuit was Dan's ability to think erotic thoughts in this most un-erotic of environments.

"Game on," Teo said as Dan's whispered pleas broke off and a fresh bead of tension sweat broke out across his forehead.  "Keep it up, buddy."




Friday, 1:06 PM

Breasts...

Hips...

Smooth, warm, nest to plunge his dick into...

Dan had not tried to look down for a long while.  He had a pretty good sense of how stiff his dick was without having to look at it, and could tell when he was getting distracted, when he would need to again force his thoughts back to the things that turned him on.  The only problem was, he was starting to run out of turn-ons.

Prior to today, he would never have thought that it would be a problem keeping his dick stiff.  In his teenage years, of course, the thing had jumped up all on its own at the slightest prompting or at no prompting at all, but that was true of almost every teenage guy.  For Dan, though, that tendency had lasted well into his twenties - he'd be sitting at a meeting at work or in the stands at a baseball game or, in one very embarrassing instance, working out at the bench press, and his cock would suddenly decide it was party time.  Even now, at 34, he had never had trouble getting it up, even for a second or third go-around.  He had had to fight so many times to not get hard that it had never occurred to him that it would be struggle to stay hard.

But that was exactly what he was finding.  He was overloading on stimulation to such a degree that the stimulations were losing their effect.  His libido was getting overloaded, forcing him to keep seeking out new and different things to fantasize about, which would work for a while until they, too, lost their power and he had to find something else.  He had run through things he had done with Kaylie, and Megan, and Lauren, and four or five others whose names and faces all blurred together.  He had delighted in and then exhausted the possibilities of three-ways and foursomes.  He had run through a whole collection of sexual fantasies that he had no intention of ever indulging for real.

And now he was running out of material.

He could tell that his dick was softening up.  He didn't want to risk a glance down because if it was close, then the mere act of leaning his forward might drop his dick that last millimeter that would complete the connection.  Better to not think about it and focus on finding the next fantasy that would get it to stiffen up again.

He wanted to move so badly.  He was still comfortable, in the sense that there was no tingling in his fingers or toes, no problems with circulation.  But he had been in the same position for hours now and he just wanted to move, to shift, even just a little bit.  He bent his legs a bit to take some weight off them...

...and that was what did it.

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion.  It took Dan's mind a long while to catch up with the sensations as they happened, and it was only later that he was able to piece them together into any kind of logical sequence.  All he knew at first was that something had slammed into his crotch, some enormous fist or hammer or something.  It wasn't painful, not at first, more just a sensation of immense pressure, as if the volume of space available for his cock and balls to occupy had suddenly shrunk to a tenth its size.

It was gone as soon as it started, though - his dick had briefly made contact with the bar, or had come close enough that a spark was able to arc between the bar and the foil shroud around his cockhead, then it had recoiled, bouncing up and away and breaking the connection.  Briefly, his partially-stiff dick rebounded upward, increasing the gap between itself and danger, giving Dan instant respite from the electricity before he had even had time to fully register it.  But the blood supply inside had been steadily draining and the blast of discomfort had not done anything to slow the process.  His dick reached the high point of its motion, then inevitably turned back downward.

Dan, meanwhile, had tried to shrink into himself, reflexively straining to pull his hips back, the natural reaction for a male experiencing sudden groin pain.  The ropes prevented too much movement, but there was enough slack to let him rotate his hips back, pushing his ass slightly upward, with a corresponding lowering of the front of his pelvis that brought his dick's natural hanging level down another fraction.  That, combined with the momentum of his descending cock, meant that the second contact with the bar, when it came, would be much more solid and long-lasting than the first.

Dan had time to start to cry out by the time the second contact happened.  His dick flopped down squarely onto the bar and stayed there, and uncountable numbers of electrons began to course back and forth from bar to foil to dick to balls to foil to wire and back again, spurred on by the cycling voltage potentials from a far-off generator.  Dan's muscles, designed to be driven by electrical potentials far smaller than these, found themselves locked into tension, unable to relax against the overwhelming power.  His other tissues, being inefficient conductors of electricity, offered resistance to the flowing stream of leptons, slowing their movement and converting their kinetic energy into thermal form... the same principle that powered the glowing red bar in a toaster oven.

When his dick slapped down on the bar for the second time, Dan found himself utterly consumed by the agony.  The breath-draining pressure was back, but there was more, too.  It was as if his cock and balls were on fire, as if the skin had been flayed off and every nerve ending had been laid out on a sizzling hot griddle.  The cry he had started to voice was choked off; he was unable to utter a sound, so all-pervasive were the sensations coursing through his crotch.  The entire universe, it seemed, was focused on his penis, which was so inflamed with pain that it could not be said to throb or to pulse.  The pain did not come in waves, it was like a wall, a wall of near-infinite height that Dan had suddenly been thrust to the top of.

The moment didn't end.  It went on and on, milliseconds dragging into tenths of seconds dragging into seconds.  Dan's body, not driven by his mind but operating solely on reflex, tried to pull the affected area away from the source of the horror, flailing in his bonds as much as it could.  No amount of movement was enough to break the connection and the electricity continued its searing journey through the meat of Dan's genitals.

After four seconds had passed, Dan's dick began to flush an angry red color, cooking from the heat.

After seven seconds, wisps of smoke began to curl upward from it, filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh.

After nine seconds, the cry that had started to emerge from his throat finally erupted as a thin, high-pitched scream, not so much shouted out as torn out through a taut pharynx that could not stop the air in his lungs from squeezing its way through.

After twelve seconds, the outer layers of the skin of Dan's cock began to blacken and crisp, the fluids baking away under the intense heat.  The flesh at the point of contact began to adhere to the metal bar, carbon and iron fusing into a single substance.

Dan screamed all the while, sucking in fleeting gasps of air whenever his lungs ran dry and screaming anew half a second later.

After eighteen seconds, Dan's cock and balls were burned and blackened beyond any possible hope of recovery, even if the current had been shut off that instant.  But the current was not shut off - it stayed on for twenty-eight more seconds.

Finally, at forty-six seconds after the second contact was made, Dan's ball sac had disintegrated to the point where there was only a hair's breadth of intact aluminum for the wire beneath to cling to - the rest had melted and fused with the flesh it encased.  The hair snapped, the wire lost its connection and dropped to the ground.

The fiery torrent of electricity stopped.




Dan came to, sort of.  His eyes wouldn't focus on anything.  He was lying on the ground, with no idea how he had gotten there.  There was a voice speaking.  He sort of understood some of the words.

"... soooooooo... satisfying!  Jeez, you were fuckin' amazing."

His groin hurt.  He wanted to reach down and hold himself there, but his arms wouldn't move.

"... maybe the second or third best squirt of my entire life.  Definitely top five."

Dan just wanted to go back to sleep, but something kept nagging at the back of his mind, telling him that there was danger, that he had to stay alert.  It was so hard, though, so hard to fight the pull to blackness...

"... shot the moment your dick touched down for the second time.  Oh, man, I wish you could have seen it.  It was... oh, it was intense.  There were sparks, you know, and man, the look on your face, it just sent me right over the edge.  Two hours of steady buildup, strokin' myself while watchin' you struggle to keep yerself erect, that probably helped, but really, the biggest part of what made it so freakin' hot was knowing that you were doing this all for me.  I mean, yesterday you were just another guy, out at a bar enjoying a few beers with his friends, not a care in the world, and then here you are about to get yer cock and balls fried off.  Offering them up as sacrifice, all, all for me.  Here you are, this totally unsuspecting straight guy, losing your manhood for no reason but to give me a slightly better orgasm!  Damn!"

Memory had come seeping back as Teo had talked and tears began to squeeze out the corners of Dan's eyes.  He stopped trying to move his hands down to shield his crotch.  There was no longer any point.  There was nothing left there to protect.

"...beyond great, it was incredible.  I'll be honest with you, this is the first time I used electricity like this, and I truly had no idea what to expect.  I figured it'd hurt, right, but I had no clue what would happen once yer dick touched that bar.  It could have been a total dud - lots of pain for you, but nothing visible happening for me.  Electricity can be like that, sometimes all the pain is invisible.

"But, man, there was something to see, all right!  Yer dick just... burned, it freakin' cooked, the skin freakin' smoked and melted and stuck to the metal!  How goddam hot is that?  And it just went on and on... I finished shooting maybe 10 seconds in, but you were still going, man, the current was baking yer dickmeat from the inside out.  Sizzling, crackling, like a sausage in a pan, the sweet smell of roasting, and on top of it all you shrieking and screaming... what a freakin' turn-on!  Oh, jeez.  Oh, man, I...  Oh, yeah..."

Dan felt Teo fumbling at his crotch.  There was no additional pain, at least not that he could tell.  It hurt so bad already that he couldn't really imagine how it could get worse.

"... you feel that?  I bet you can't.  I bet the nerves are shot, they're gone.  I'll tell you what I'm doing, then, I'm grabbing your balls, only there's nothing there to grab, oh my fuckin' head, your balls are... your balls are, like, liquified, I just touched them, barely touched them and whatever was left of the membrane that held them in just popped and now I can feel this hot, wet slurry drizzling down on my palm and fingers... oh... oh jeez... your balls just melted and it's all over my hand, oh, yeah, I'm strokin' myself with your melted ball juice... ohhh... ohhhhhhhh... nnnnnnnnggggghhhhhhhh"

Teo's words trailed off.  Dan kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to have any visual to haunt his nightmares.  Bad enough that he knew what Teo was doing, bad enough to know how he was extracting one final use from the last dregs of Dan's testicles... there was no need to have an image of the event seared into his brain.

Teo's second orgasm died away into shuddering spasms, his vocalizations subsiding into satisfied moans.  Dan kept his eyes firmly closed, desperately wishing himself anywhere else, hearing the sounds of Teo standing up and puttering around the room but not wanting to know anything, not wanting to think, just wanting to disappear.  Minutes passed, minutes while his crotch throbbed and ached and while the chunks of soggy wood that used to be his dick and balls wept sticky fluids onto his thighs.  He kept them closed right up until the moment Teo said "nighty night, now!" and he felt a tiny pinprick in his thigh.  Then his eyes flew open, only see the room start to blur like the game room at the bar had last night.  He fought to stay awake, but all too quickly, the darkness rose up and overwhelmed him.




Two days later

"Gol-damn, kin y'all buh-lieve thay-ut?"  The camo-clad man with the thick, scraggly beard was staring up at the screen over the left corner of the bar.  He spoke with the musical slowness of the Louisiana back country, tones not exactly common in this New Orleans nightspot, but not out of place either.  The volume of the set was down, but it was clear what the news crew was talking about: the brutal crime that had been committed out west in California.  The horror of what had happened to that poor boy had been enough to keep the story alive through one 24-hour news cycle and now well into its second.

"What a world, mmm?" the bearded man grumbled.  The comment might have been directed at his blond-haired, thirtyish neighbor, or it might have been directed at the air.  The neighbor chose not to respond, but watched the screen all the same, brushing a few long, thin strands away from his eyes to clear his view.

The announcer was breathlessly recounting the tale of what had happened, how the Sacramento police had received a call telling them to look in a certain car parked in a certain place and what they had found there.  She spoke of the victim, still lying in intensive care in the hospital.  And then, the bit of new information, the screen shifted to show a photo of the alleged attacker, a photo taken in a bar showing a crowd of people, one of whom was highlighted: a confident-looking man with wavy dark hair and a dimpled smile, wearing a navy blue shirt and holding a Dos Equis bottle.  There was no name to go with the photo, not in printed form, though with the volume down it was impossible to know whether the announcer might have spoken a name aloud.  Perhaps the name would come with the next hour's update, giving the station a chance to retell the story yet again.  Vigilant citizens were encouraged to contact their local authorities if they had any information about the man in the picture.

The man at the bar next to the camo-clad backwoodsman didn't have wavy dark hair, or a dimple that would show if he smiled.  His shirt was not navy blue; his beer was not Dos Equis.  His attitude was nothing like confident - he moved slowly, seeming to shrink into himself, as if he had never quite gotten the hang of the whole life thing and was just kind of drifting through.

Nevertheless, as the program on the screen shifted to a pair of talking heads arguing over some manufactured controversy regarding the attack, a ghost of a smile flickered briefly across his face.  It was only visible for a few moments before he lifted his beer to his mouth, hiding the tiny smile behind a layer of not-Dos-Equis foam.