In Just a Moment
An original story by JAD
The mightily-muscled and equally mightily-membered knight had been stripped naked and secured to the huge wooden block the TortureMaster lovingly called 'Old Oakheart'. His handsome head hung back over one edge of the cube. His enormous arms were manacled to the adjacent sides. And his ankles were short-shackled at the bottom of the fourth face, with his thick-thewed thighs spread in a T with his powerful torso and anchored to the top of the cube by heavy leather straps.
A cut-out area in the foot end of the block exposed the man's boulder buttocks and gave access to the virgin pucker hiding between them.
His stallion staff had been forced to full equine hardness through manipulation and aphrodisiacs, then cuffed at the root to keep it that way.
His bullish balls had been captured in a hellishly clever device called Stone Screws, which first spread the nuts wide and taut in their sack, and then trapped them in separate sharp-studded bar vises which could be tightened individually. Additionally, the Screws had a ring, to which was attached a stout chain. Currently, this chain had been run over a hitching bar, and a hundredweight of iron plates had been hung from the other end, stretching the powerful paladin's prodigious plums to near their limit.
Karok, the Torturemaster and his minions, Torg and Veelo, had amused themselves by sticking large bead-headed pins into the giant's flesh--particularly such tender areas as his fat sovereign-sized paps and his monster member with its apple-like head--and then heating them with pokers fresh from a blazing brazier.
However, they had also been disappointed. For unlike other guests whom they had treated to this entertainment, this stoic cavalier had refused to either scream or ejaculate from the pain. In truth, the man was not unfeeling, for his massive muscles were constantly flexed against his bonds, and his eyes were screwed tight with his brow deeply furrowed. Additionally, a sweaty sheen covered his bare, brawny body, gleaming gold in the light of the torches that lit the chamber.
But the only thing that escaped his lips were curses growled through gritted teeth. And the only thing that emerged from his quivering, huge-veined member was an unceasing stream of dewy pre-seed.
The Torturemaster had avoided puncturing the prisoner's seed-pods; however,he had tightened the Stone Screws so tightly that the knight's duet of enormous man-eggs looked like a quartet of still-oversized human gonads.
But now he took up another great pin and pushed the sharp end against the purple skin of one of the bulging sub-nuts. Slowly and steadily he pressed, as the metal made a deeper and deeper indentation. And then it popped through the thick scrotal skin and slid well into the meaty interior. A bead of blood welled up from the wound and the prisoner made a small grunt.
Karok gave a close-lipped grin and took a fresh poker from the coals. He held it to the pin head and the heat of the larger metal rod began to transfer to the smaller one. The ooze of red sizzled and was cauterized, and then there was the fresh smell of singing flesh.
The powerful prisoner tensed harder and struggled, just slightly. He groaned low, but his lips remained tightly shut. His studly staff quivered more and the dewy stream increased.
Grinning wider, the Torturemaster returned the poker to the coals, then took a second pin and slowly inserted it in another scrotal segment. Another bead of blood and another grunt, both a bit bigger. He took back the poker and heated the pin head.
The knight thrashed harder and gave a louder groan, which turned into a half moan. The horse cock twitched even more and the thick, clear stream was now a freshet.
The beaming Karok took a third pin and repeated the process in a third portion.
The bound giant moaned louder and gasped once, twice, three times. He writhed mightily against his chains. His enormous staff seemed to be swelling even larger. It twitched wildly and the freshet was becoming a flood.
But still the iron-willed paladin resisted, bravely battling the inevitable.
With lips pulled back in a wolfish grimace, Korak took a fourth pin and jammed it into the last, untouched bulge.
The prisoner began grunting continually, deep and throatily. He bobbed his head back and forth with increasing vigor, as though trying to bang it against something. He pounded his huge fists against Old Oakheart and pulled at his chains, but his restraints held fast. His powerful feet kicked against his fetters, but again to no avail.
The monstrous member was vibrating, flailing its thick, clear rope all about. What had been a puddle and then a pool on the floor was becoming a sticky sea.
Laughing, the Torturemaster again took up the poker. Slowly and deliberately he moved the red-hot iron toward its target. And then, just before the two pieces of metal touched, he hesitated.
Oh, if only he could make this delicious torment last, so he could savor it forever!
In only a moment, he knew, this Herculean, heroic, sweating, stinking prisoner would be at last broken, bellowing like the pain-and-lust maddened beast he now was, and he would spew a volcanic eruption of thick, creamy seed high and far across Karok's wonderful studio of suffering, his beloved chamber of pain!
And then he touched the poker to the pinhead.
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