Castration Warehouse - Part 8

Castration Warehouse - Part Eight

Based on an original story by RackTheSack 

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The blond muscle giant walked over to the peg board and selected a flogger, tossing it to one of the other big men. He then selected three more and tossed them to his remaining compatriots before choosing one for himself. Each flogger had a stout handle made of hardwood, while the business end of each torture implement varied in design — some had dozens of simple strips of supple black leather, one was a tough, braided band of rawhide, and the last, carried by Mitch himself, was a two-inch-wide strip of thick and pliable black leather that was just over a foot long, like a short but very thick belt. 

Mitch walked back over to Jack and knelt in front of the bound muscle stud. The handsome young hunk whimpered as the big blond reached up with both massive hands to cradle the lad’s badly bruised balls. Even this light touch caused Jack to flinch in pain, a weak moan escaping his beautiful lips as Mitch began to once again explore the massive testicles for any signs of internal damage. The muscle giant prodded and palpated both enormous orbs, even lightly crushing them against one another, looking for any flaws or injuries. Finding none, Mitch nodded approvingly and said, “No signs of any real damage yet. Very impressive, Jack! Most men’s balls would be showing signs of weakness or even failure at this point, but not your colossal cajones! I’ll bet these big boys are of yours are mighty sore, though, aren’t they?” Mitch looked up with a mocking grin at the bound hunk, giving both of his battered bollocks a few half-strength squeezes and making the lad’s breathtakingly handsome face scrunch up in fresh pain. The big man chuckled as he finally released Jack’s profoundly aching balls and stood back up. 

As with the paddles, two men took up positions behind the big bound lad, with the other three in front. Jack was quietly sobbing in despair, already exhausted by his ordeal, but knowing that the worst was still to come. And he was right. 

The flogging began, the five men wasting no time as they lashed at Jack’s perfect, unblemished skin. His broad and densely muscled back, his magnificent protruding bulbous ass cheeks, and his incredibly wide and spectacularly thick and dense chest were the focus of three of the men, while the other two tag teamed his majestic 15.5-inch bull cock and fantastically huge low-hanging bollocks, alternating back and forth. But almost every part of the handsome jock’s phenomenal physique received attention from the floggers — his massive flexing arms, his straining boulder shoulders, his exquisitely chiseled flanks, his deep and surprisingly hairy armpits, his colossal quadriceps and equally massive hamstrings, the sharply formed eight-pack of his bulging abdominals, his astonishingly narrow and tight lower back, the backs of his bloated and deeply bifurcated calves that were the size of overinflated footballs. Even the soles of his tender and sensitive size 14 extra wide feet got their fair share of abuse. Only his ridiculously handsome face was spared the stinging bite of the floggers, upon the specific and strict direction of the client that had hired the men to perform this job, who had stated that no harm should come to the young man’s breathtakingly handsome features. 

Loud and beefy smacking and slapping sounds soon filled the large warehouse, accompanied by the weak moans and groans of the helpless and utterly exhausted muscle stud. The sharp, staccato sounds came fast and furious, the five big men eagerly and tirelessly painting Jack’s spectacularly beautiful body with fresh stripes from their leather floggers, heartily congratulating one another after a particularly well-aimed blow. 

While the rest of his bound body was nearly immobile, Jack’s package bounced and jiggled around most wildly with each powerful blow, spraying streams of crystal clear precum around in every direction as his monstrously hyper inflated cock continued to ooze and drool. The five other men were intensely, almost painfully, erect as well, their huge cocks flopping about as they eagerly delivered even more punishment to the anguished hunk. 

After ten minutes, Jack’s glorious body was glowing a bright cherry red from neck to toes. And after another hour or so, the poor lad’s entire body was a mess of angry welts, especially his chest, back, and ass. The hard nubs of Jack’s beautiful, succulent nipples — a favorite target for the men belting his body — were looking particularly the worse for wear, having become puffy and swollen to twice their normal size. But once more, it was Jack’s cock, and especially his balls, that had received the lion’s share of the abuse. 

A brief halt was called while Mitch once again knelt down to gauge the damage done thus far to Jack’s genitals. The young man’s cock and balls looked to be in sorry shape indeed, all puffy and swollen and battered and welted and bruised by over seven and a half hours of relentless abuse. Even a light touch from the man’s huge, calloused hands was exquisitely painful at this point, but Mitch was anything but gentle, roughly fondling and manhandling the poorly-used man meat. The big blond bull was not satisfied by what he found, for all of Jack’s injuries were still largely superficial. “Alright guys,” he said to the rest of his team, “you three take a break while we step it up a notch on the lad’s cock and balls.” 

Mitch and another one of the big men began again, but this time with even greater ferocity and viciousness, putting their whole bodies into each devastating blow. Jack bucked and strained against his restraints with renewed energy, the blows feeling like they were shredding his beautiful manhood apart. 

With all of the focus on Jack’s genitals and no one lashing his back, another of the men lubed up his cock again and gave the young stud’s magnificently muscular ass another pounding. Since the man had blown one load up Jack’s ass already, his second fucking was marginally less violent and brutal, but on the downside, the big man lasted a lot longer. The fucking seemed to go on for an eternity, as Jack’s cock and balls continued to be pelted with incredibly brutal blows from the leather belt and flogger, and Jack longed for the blessed release of unconsciousness. But unfortunately, the young jock was just too ferociously tough, too insanely strong, to mercifully black out, even as the pain in his mangled genitals continued to grow. 

The prolonged hammering of his bruised and ill-used prostate finally sent Jack into his eleventh orgasm of the night, which proved to be his most painful load yet. His massive nuts clenched and spasmodically convulsed as they were forced to cough up even more of their precious cargo. His mighty bull cock heaved and lurched as it shot out several dozen more staggeringly copious ropes of thick jock jizz, coating even more of the concrete floor with his chunky pearlescent spew. It seemed categorically impossible that one man’s balls, no matter how huge, could contain even ONE such mammoth bull load, let alone eleven (and counting) in just one evening! The hunky and spectacularly muscular kid was simply a pure GOD of sex! 

The big man rooting around inside Jack’s ass came at the same time, triggered by the incredibly powerful flexing of the young man’s guts around his invading cock. Jack’s rectum was so overloaded with cum at this point that the man’s lush pulses of sperm were squirting out of the young man’s ass and running down the insides of his enormously muscular and perfectly chiseled legs in thick and gloopy rivers. 

And STILL Mitch and his companion continued to pummel Jack’s drooling cock and quivering balls long after his orgasm was complete, really tearing into them and threatening to shred them to ribbons. But the sturdy and incredibly resilient young stud endured, even though his mind was nearly ripped apart by the unending agony. 

Once more, Mitch called a halt to the flogging and inspected the damage. He focused mostly on Jack’s nearly cantaloupe-sized bollocks, rolling them around in his hands and giving them firm experimental squeezes. After a thorough inspection, he turned to his fellows and said, “Well lads, I’m sorry to say that we have a lot more work to do before we can nut this boy. His balls are just too damn tough! I think it’s time to break out the canes.” 

Jack let out a soft, whimpering sob, the abject despair on his face almost making him look like a small helpless child, as he braced himself for even greater abuse to come. 

Castration Warehouse - Part 7

Castration Warehouse - Part Seven

Based on an original story by RackTheSack 

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All five smiling and chuckling men walked over to the peg board and retrieved nearly identical items. Each device looked very much like a standard wooden ping pong paddle, with a stout handle and a large flat surface with textured rubber coating both sides. The only difference was that these paddles were built on a much larger and sturdier scale, with a surface area more similar to that of a tennis racket. More than large enough to strike both of Jack’s gigantic man nuts at the same time. 

“Okay Jack, warm up time is over,” Mitch drawled with an evil glint in his cold blue eyes. “It’s time to really start working over those huge bull balls of yours! Nothing too damaging yet — we’re still working up to the really heavy stuff — but we’re going to start putting those massive stones of yours through their paces, and see just how tough they truly are!” 

And with that, the paddling of Jack’s behemoth bollocks began. 

The five huge men lined up around the bound muscle stud, three in front and two in back, and spent a couple of moments rocking back and forth on their feet, their huge hard cocks waving in front of them, smiling and taunting the helpless hunk as they expertly swung and twirled the large paddles in their beefy hands. Jack’s bright blue eyes were wide with terror as he looked at the three massive men in front of him, watching the way that their colossal muscles bunched and flexed with every movement. He guessed that the smallest set of biceps among the five men must have come in at over 25 inches, so the amount of raw muscular POWER arrayed before him was truly staggering. And all of that fantastic muscular might was about to be focused on whacking around his low-hanging huevos. 

The first strike came from behind, startling the handsome young lad, as a mighty blow sent his huge testicles swinging violently forward in their loose and dangling sack. The loud slap seemed to echo in the large room, but Jack hardly had time to react before one of the men in front of him took a powerful swing and struck the swinging ballsac from the front, sending it careening back in the opposite direction. 

So began their brutal game, which was like ping pong and tether ball all rolled into one. The big men practiced both their forehand and their backhand as they gleefully slammed and hammered Jack’s wildly swinging and jiggling nuts from every possible direction. The lad’s pendulous nutsac was madly flopping about under the heavy blows, often colliding hard with his own meaty ass, his fantastically muscular inner thighs, or his throbbing cock shaft, but just as often swinging and twisting in open air before the next resounding SMACK of a paddle strike sent them flying off in yet another direction. The sharp stinging pain of the mighty blows would have been knee buckling at the best of times, but with his big balls so deeply throbbing and aching from all that they had already endured, Jack’s testicular agony was beyond anything he could have imagined. Still, despite the awesome power behind each blow, the large surface area of the paddles dispersed the force of each slapping strike, causing a maximum amount of pain with a minimal amount of actual damage. 

You could have fooled Jack, though, for his battered balls felt like they were on fire! Already glowing an angry red in their smooth and hairless sac from all of the abuse they’d already received, the young man’s humongous coconut-sized whoppers steadily grew a darker and uglier shade of red as the effects of the paddle strikes compounded over time. Jack felt like his balls were going to burst and shatter into a thousand bloody pieces under the relentless hammering, but in truth his balls were built of some stern and sturdy stuff, making them incredibly tough and resilient. Freakishly so, in fact. So while the pain continued to mount, and superficial bruises started to erupt all over the beyond massive orbs, Jack’s mighty man eggs were nowhere near in danger of actually cracking. 

The men also amused themselves by occasionally spanking the young stud’s gloriously muscular bubble butt until it was glowing a bright cherry red as well. They also took frequent swings at his steely-hard schlong, powerfully batting it around from every direction, and enjoying making it wiggle and swing wildly in various directions only to quickly snap back to upright and throbbing attention. They were flabbergasted and deeply impressed by the super stud’s ability to maintain an erection even under such extreme abuse, but they were never one to waste such a golden opportunity, so they smacked and clobbered Jack’s mighty stallion cock almost as much as they powerfully paddled his swinging bollocks. 

The agony was so intense that Jack thought he would die, and he felt like his magnificent manhood was being steadily hammered into sterility. But instead, his bruised and aching cock seemed to strain larger still, and incredibly began oozing out long strings of crystalline precum. One of the men was so turned on by the sight of Jack’s heavily drooling mega cock that he roughly scraped a big handful of the slick crud off of the young man’s huge cock, lubed up his own big cock with the young stud’s copious juices, and plunged his huge meat up Jack’s tight and puffy rosebud all the way to the hilt. 

The fourth rape of Jack’s muscle butt was perhaps the most rough and violent yet, with the big thug jackhammering his extremely thick dick in and out of the lad’s well-plundered bowels like some machine piston, forcing a thick slurry of the first three loads to squirt out around his big cock. The other four men all gathered in front of the howling and screaming stud and paddled his swollen cock and balls with renewed vigor and speed. Red and raw abrasions were starting to form on Jack’s big billy club boner and battered ballsac, but that visible superficial damage only seemed to encourage the men to strike harder and faster still, their massive arms and rubber-faced paddles becoming a blur as they rained unforgettable pain down on the lad’s bruised and stinging goods. 

The super stud’s tenth load of the night caught all of the men by surprise, including Jack himself, slamming into his loins with a sudden fury. The four muscle giants standing in front of the grunting and bucking stud were suddenly slashed and plastered by huge scalding hot ribbons and massive slugs of fresh ripe man juice. They just laughed and hollered in delight, and slammed their paddles even harder into Jack’s throbbing man flesh, increasing his agony tenfold as they battered his throbbing cock and convulsing balls throughout the long and incredibly lush orgasm. The feel of the lad’s tightly clenching guts around his invading cock sent Jack’s rapist over the edge, too, and he blasted a fourth huge stud load up Jack’s ass while the young man shot an even larger whale load out over the cum-drenched floor, the latest bolts of cum making messy splashing noises as they splattered onto the impossibly huge puddles of nut sludge already covering an astonishingly large portion of the cement floor. 

Jack’s scream-roughened voice was growing hoarse by the time his tenth orgasm finally ended and the men stopped clobbering his red and swollen manhood. White hot agony radiated out from Jack’s thoroughly battered cock and balls, the throbbing pain almost feeling like his huge genitals were still being hammered by the oversized paddles. The handsome young hunk just heaved and sobbed in his chains, no longer having the strength to even beg for mercy. Not that the five huge men surrounding him would have heeded his pleas anyway.  

Intrigued by the swelling in Jack’s epic manhood, big Mitch broke out a cloth tape measure and placed the end of the tape against the hard, rigid root of Jack’s cock, and then slowly unfurled the cloth along the dorsal length of the mammoth organ. The firm, rock hard flesh felt warm beneath Mitch’s fingers as the tape inched up the length of the absolutely enormous schlong, finally rolling over the huge, hyper engorged, purplish head to reach the dilated and leaking tip. Mitch let out a low whistle of amazement, for Jack’s terminally bloated monster cock had indeed grown, gaining over a full inch in length during the night’s tortures, and now stretched the measuring tape to a jaw dropping 15.5 iron hard inches! 

Mitch removed the cloth tape, which was now wet and sticky with Jack’s hyper abundant cum, and wrapped his fingers around the middle of the enormous cock shaft. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he discovered that even his enormous hand was no longer large enough to wrap all the way around that fantastically girthy beast, for the tremendous thickness of the lad’s record-shattering penis had somehow increased as well. The big blond man squeezed down hard, trying to throttle the humongous cock at its midpoint, but the dick meat was so monstrously engorged and so incredibly hard that his fingers could barely even dent it. He instead frigged the goliath pole, marveling at its unparalleled size and enjoying how the huge snaking veins created delicious speed bumps as his big fist stroked up and down the mighty sex organ. 

Mitch discovered a sensation he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager — jealousy. The blond giant was always the biggest, most fantastically muscular man anywhere he went, and he was hung bigger than anyone he’d ever encountered… until now. The bound college jock in front of him was undeniably staggeringly handsome with the most beautifully formed physique Mitch had ever seen, but the blond giant was half a foot taller and built much bigger. But the sexy young upstart had the blond bull beat where it perhaps counted the most, with a monstrously colossal manhood that dwarfed even Mitch’s own mighty 13-inch meat club and enormous, door-knocker balls that were the size of the largest of lemons. 

Warring emotions of arousal and jealousy made big Mitch feel momentarily insecure. But then a huge, toothy grin spread across the man’s rugged, square-jawed features. Sure, the big handsome kid might be hung bigger than Mitch at the moment, but by the time he and his buddies were done with him, the lad’s gigantic bull balls would be history, and his mammoth member would wilt for the last time, never to rise to goliath tumescent glory ever again! Mitch gave the rock solid cock a few more firm strokes, the flesh of the huge shaft feeling like warm marble to his rough and calloused hand and the comparatively spongy bulb of his bloated glans feeling glassy smooth under his caressing thumb, and then he released the cock, giving it a few strong pats to make it bounce, and then went to eagerly retrieve the next device for the young man’s torture and eventual emasculation. 

A Knight in the Dungeon - Jayse Version

Hello gentle readers! 

Apologies for my prolonged absence. I've been here, but I've been laying low. The worldwide health crisis combined with the economic and political crises happening here in America haven't been doing much for my mojo, so my artistic and creative pursuits have been on the back burner. But i've decided to come out of my shell for at least a little while, and share a few of my archived stories for you. 

This first one is from a long-time friend, the artist JAD. In addition to his amazing drawings, he's also a very accomplished writer, and I've expanded and modified one of his short stories into the tale below. I hope you all enjoy, and that you're all staying safe and sane out there. Crazy times we're living in! 

--Jayse

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A Knight In the Dungeon

Based on an original story by JAD

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Welcome, my young man! Welcome to the dungeon of Castle d’Atroce — or, more specifically, to the torture chamber. I am Karok, the Master of this place, and these are my most able assistants, Torg and Veelo. It will be our great pleasure to entertain you this evening! 

And you are…? Ah yes! Sir David! A knight errant, as I understand. And it would seem you erred a bit too much for Duke Abaddon’s taste. Caught the eye of his charming young niece, the Lady Lauren, did you? Too bad she is already promised to a much older, richer, and more powerful man, the Baron Graussam. And His Grace could not chance that you might interfere with this long-sought alliance.

Ah well, such are the ways of the world!

But I can well understand the Duke’s concern! How easy it would be for the lovely Lauren to be smitten with one such as you — young and tall, exquisitely handsome of face and astonishingly mighty of limb. Built like an ox, one might say. Why, I’m not sure if I’ve ever before SEEN a man with such a large frame and so densely packed with powerful muscles! Your massive chest alone would be legendary, but combined with such a narrow and chiseled waist, why, your battle-hardened body is simply a work of art! Add that thick head of wavy, dark brown hair, those soulful and expressive green eyes, and that devastatingly handsome face. Such manly beauty! Any maid would swoon! Why, even my knees feel a bit weak!

Eh, I see you grow unsteady yourself. It must be the heat. This chamber is always abnormally warm, one might even say hellish.

So let us make you more at ease by — hmmm — by removing some of your heavy clothing. After all, all that silk and velvet and leather must be stifling!

Oh, do not struggle so! It makes the task more difficult for Torg and Veelo. You may be powerful, well-trained, and combat hardened, but we have years of experience in dealing big, strong men — terrified men — desperate men. We know the right way to handle you!

Now see what has happened? All your finery has been ripped to tatters — down to the very last undergarment! Well, no place for those rags but the fireplace.

There! You should feel much more relaxed now. Oh, do not be embarrassed by your nakedness, young knight! There’s no call for modesty here. As you can see, we ourselves wear very little, the better to go about our work.

Now, let us take a better look at you.

Ah, what an exceptional male form! Those steel-muscled arms and oak-thewed thighs! That bullish neck and cannonball shoulders! Those colossal pecs and wide, densely muscled back! You are truly a feast for the eyes, Sir David! And that fine coating of dark brown fur covering your broad chest boulders and flat belly cobbles! So manly! So erotic! 

Alas, that pelt must go. Such hair retains body heat, and the smell of burning hair can be most unpleasant! Besides, you will feel so much more vulnerable — er, comfortable —when you’re shaven smooth as a newborn.

Not that you could even then be mistaken for a baby.

Not with such mature genitalia as you have here!

In my long and illustrious career of dealing with naked men, I cannot recall a member so virile, or a brace of testes teeming with such potency! Can you, lads? No, I thought not. I said earlier you were built like an ox, but you, my good knight, are most definitely a bull!

Did Lady Lauren ever see these? No, of course not. You are far too gallant! (My, how you blush!) What a singular adventure the Duke has cheated her of—or perhaps saved her from. I would wager that more maids run screaming from such monsters than hasten squealing to embrace them.

Oh, so I am not wrong? You have given and gotten little joy from your prodigious package? No need to speak. Your face says it all. But let me assure you, Sir David, that we shall experience extreme enjoyment tonight from your most excellent endowment. And perhaps even you will as well.

But enough prattle. It is time for Torg and Veelo to escort you to the preparation stocks!

And now that they have you locked in tight at neck and wrists, with feet chained wide, they remove the grate in the floor between your legs, and strap a large funnel gag in your mouth. They are force feeding you a strong purgative, which causes you to quickly — if unpleasantly — evacuate your bowels. (Such hearty howling!) And they follow up with a good flushing with the wet bellows. (Even more delightfully vigorous protests!)

You see, the scent of sweat, seed, and blood — even piss — add an agreeably robust aroma to the chamber. And afterwards, they are cleaned up with relative ease. But not so with shit. I will not have you or any visitor soiling my beloved atelier!

Now.

Once you are clean from gorge to bunghole, the grate goes back, and the lads set to work with their razors, shaving your mighty, muscular body hairless from neck to toe. My, your muscles look even more enormous shorn of their light dusting of hair! Really lets the magnificent cuts and striations of those remarkable muscles shine through! 

Then for good measure, they give you an invigorating massage with their strops. Notice how Torg focuses on your granite-globed buttocks, while Veelo likes to toy with your supremely low-hanging ostrich eggs! My, how those enormous stones bounce and wobble with each loving strike! And your full-throated bellows are like music to my ears!  

But your external treatment does not end there. The lads next don heavy leather gloves and rub you down all over with a special lotion — a notion of my own. I call it Satan’s Spit. Feels like liquid flame, does it not? And it gives you such a nice rosy glow!

That healthy pink cast will last a while, but the burning sensation abates quickly, as you see. However, your skin will remain intensely sensitized, so that any touch — light or heavy, pleasurable or painful — becomes highly erotic. See how much more susceptible to stimulation your big, fat-nubbed nipples are now?

Oh, one more thing before you leave the stocks — the funnel goes back in for a healthy dose of another of my concoctions. I named this one Pan’s Piss. It is guaranteed to make you horny as a satyr. To get you up and keep you up, come what may. To increase your seminal output phenomenally. And to lessen your recovery time to mere minutes. Yes, my virile cavalier, I can promise you that you will spew more seed tonight than you ever imagined possible!

Ah, lads, see how the Piss works its wonders on him already! That massive staff rearing up, those colossal stones bobbing below! My goodness, he is a true prodigy!! Bigger than any full-hard man when still soft, and at least half again that large when fully roused!! I have never seen its equal!! And his enormous orbs also seem to be swelling ever larger, hanging even lower! Excellent! 

Oh, and did I mention — the effects of the Pan’s Piss potion are permanent… 

Just watching you makes my own member quiver and start to rise. And I see your magnificent form and beyond-prodigious loins are having the same effect on my two helpful lads as well! So let us discard our constraining cod pouches, shall we?

Ah, much better — and as it should be!

Now come, Veelo, let us get our guest settled on Old Oakheart, while Torg attends to other important matters!

This ponderous butcher block has a most noble history, Sir David. A century back, he was hewn from the core of the mightiest tree in the old forest after it was toppled by lightning during the worst storm in memory. Since then, he has born thousands of men on his broad back, as they sweated and screamed, spewed seed and succumbed. You can see the stains and scratches, but not a hint of cracking there. And his master-crafted restraints can hold the biggest and strongest of prisoners — even the likes of you, my young titan — without fear of pulling free.

So down on your own brawny back you go, with wrists chained behind your head to one face of the cube, and ankles shackled to the sides. That spreads your legs wide, and your thighs are further anchored to the top with thick straps.

And did you notice this clever cut-out area down here? It allows full and easy access to your buttocks and bunghole! (Slap! Slap!)

Now let me see, where are those cock cuffs? Oh, here they are! But we shall certainly require the largest size. Ah! This should do! Hmmm — still a snug fit, but it closes and latches, if only just barely. This lets you come without hindrance — but reminds you that you are no longer in control of your member or its actions.

And now for the ball bond. Again the biggest, with a good strong chain. Latched tight! And we fling the chain over the hitch bar between these posts a yard beyond. Oh, we could use a winch for this next part, but I prefer to hang weights. That way I can gauge more accurately just how tough a man really is.

Let us start with twenty pounds, just to get you taut.

Hardly a grunt out of you! And your sack barely stretched! Let us add another twenty pounds.

That was a better — finally a groan! But still not much extension. These are most stalwart stones, Sir David!

One more.

A somewhat more satisfying moan that time. And a bit more give, but not much. Perhaps the lotion and potion are helping you relax? I do see there is a nice tension developing on your ponderous pole, pulling it forward. So we are starting to see results.

But do I dare? Why, of course! Another twenty!

And the first howl of the evening! But wait. Those bull balls of yours slipped an inch, but then bounced right back!! Your nut cords are truly heroic, my rugged rover! 

I have never before added a FIFTH weight to the ball stretcher — very few men can endure FOUR such weights with their bollocks still attached and intact. But you are clearly built of far more stern stuff than the average man! Still, I don’t know if I should risk your most magnificent of nuts by hazarding an additional weight on the chain. Then again, how can I not?! Torg, another twenty pounds, if you please! 

Ah yes, a full-throated bellow! Such powerful lungs you have, Sir David! And such a deep and resonant voice! We’ve wrenched another inch or so of stretch out of your valiantly straining nuts, my good man. Your mighty bollocks are starting to turn a bit purple with the strain, but they seem to be holding quite nicely. I’ve never before seen a man suspend a full one hundred pounds from his stones, but I have a strong suspicion that you could endure quite a bit more! Not to worry, we have all night, so we’ll revisit the nut stretcher in a little while… 

I am sure your formidable form holds many more fine surprises, and we are extremely eager to discover them, as you can see. (Please pardon my drooling on your chiseled and heaving belly!) So, without further ado, let us get down to business.

Torg has prepared a piping-hot pot of pokers and pincers — ah, thank you, Torg! — like this hefty one. And with them, we shall now ply your tender, defenseless flesh. Struggle and curse all you wish, it will avail you naught. Neither will pleas for mercy, for there is none in this chamber. The Duke desires to be rid of you. But before that, he wishes you to suffer hard and suffer long. You cannot win this fight, and there is no escape.

I am sure that as an honorable knight you will nobly accept your fate. But do not try to endure it stoically. Surrender yourself to the pain and the passion, and give unconstrained expression to them both. You will bear your harrowing burden with unforeseen grace. And you will experience ecstasy you never knew possible.

And now, Sir David — my powerful, potent paladin — I give you a choice. How do you wish to begin this? With the right pit, or the left?

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(12 very long hours later)

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Ah, Sir David, you have provided us with uncommon sport this night, for which Torg, Veelo, and I most gratefully thank you! (Bow, lads!)

You have squirmed, wriggled, flailed, struggled, thrashed, and writhed with such might that we thought at times you might be the first the break Old Oakheart’s restraints. And yet your will has not broken, and your enormously muscular body remains as outrageously strong and powerful as ever. 

You have grunted, groaned, moaned, screeched, howled, and roared with such power that we feared you might render yourself mute. And yet you are little more than hoarse.

Your big, bullish, brutish stones have borne a record-shattering two hundred pounds of weights — and, I dare say, could possibly carry even more! — as well as scores of burns and welts, and untold hundreds of punches, kicks, and blows from various blunt instruments. Yet they have continued to churn out load upon copious load of the thickest man cream I have ever seen, each monstrous load as bountiful and volcanic as the one before — and well more than a gallon in total, I would wager.

Your mighty phallus has been beaten with stanchions, seared with fiery brands, bent to the brink of snapping in half, and stretched until it was nearly pulled out by its tough fleshy roots. Yet your stallion staff has shrunk not a whit, nor flagged a second in its duty to deliver those fountainous servings of seed one after another — over two dozen altogether, although I admit I lost count. And all this while it has been sorely scorched up and down its massive, veiny shaft, all over its ultra-sensitive, fist-sized head, and even halfway down the finger-thick piss channel!

Your fat pouting paps have been squashed, stretched, twisted, and seared to oozing scabs. Your deep-hollowed pits are charred craters, your navel a fried button, your once virgin pink arse-pucker a swollen crimson hole.

Scarcely an inch of your mighty form does not bear the mark of our handiwork — even your brawny back is well-branded, for we wrestled you over and attended you there for well over two hours. Surely, your body is a mass of exquisite, excruciating agony, and you must be half-mad or more with the pain. 

And yet Pan’s Piss drives you on, fueling your lust — compelling you mindlessly onward to more suffering and passion, your great muscles gleaming with rivulets of sweat, hot tears streaming down your manly and extraordinarily handsome countenance. 

You are a wonder, my huge and handsome hero, and I sadly fear that I will never see your like again. 

But, alas, my friend, all things must come to an end. And that includes our revelries.

Duke Abaddon has demanded that evidence of your departure be presented to him when he next greets the day. And the sun has already risen. (You cannot tell here in this windowless chamber, but the great sandglass says it is so.) But since his Grace sleeps until noon, we still have plenty of time to give you a proper send-off.

It goes without saying that a knight of such exemplary qualities as yours deserves an equally magnificent courser to ride out upon. And so, let me present — the Steel Steed!

I see from your saucer-wide eyes how impressed you are by this majestic creature. As well you should be!

In full, fitting ceremony you shall be mounted upon this mighty beast. That is, it will be slowly and relentlessly shoved up your mangled man-bung until it is full in.

But how can you hope to survive such an ordeal, you ask? Trust me, my doughty young giant, I have full faith that you shall persevere. What is more, I believe that with the aid of the Piss, you will even find the experience exhilarating. In fact, you will probably produce several more studly spews of seed before the Steed is secure in its new stall.

However, that is not quite the end of it.

The coals that heated our tools tonight have burned down, but even as I speak Torg is stirring them back to life. Once the Steed is firmly wedged in your near-bursting bowels, we shall fill it with hot embers and secure the cap on its base.

And then, brave Sir David, bold Sir David, brawny Sir David, big balled and mighty membered Sir David — you shall make your final wild charge, bucking and bellowing into oblivion.

As the Steel Steed roasts you from within, perhaps it will even coax one last majestic eruption from your loins. If so, we shall endeavor to capture it and preserve it in a glass flask as a relic of your peerless and unparalleled virility.

And when you have gasped your last, we shall sever your astounding staff and stones and present them to the Duke. And he shall marvel over them as we have. And then gloat.

And then have them broiled for his breakfast.

Now, let us continue.