The Prisoner

WARNING: This story contains serious pain and sadomasochism. If that is not your thing, please find another story.

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Tarron regained consciousness slowly. His mind was fogged from the tranquilizer dart that had brought him down. He became aware of pain in his joints and wrists, tried to curl and realized that his arms were tightly bound above him, body hanging. His eyes felt heavy but he forced them open with a groan.

At first the world was a gray blur. It cleared and focused into a stone-walled room lit with candles. A woman lounged on a bench in front of him, mouth twisted in a wry smile. The wall behind her was lined with sharp implements, whips, canes and several leather corded devices at whose purpose Tarron could only guess. He glanced down and saw his own naked body, tightly muscled and stretched taught between chains on his wrists and ankles.

"Awake at last." The woman's voice was deep and velvety and held a hint of amusement. She stretched out one leather-clad leg and thoughtfully stroked the curve of a whip coiled at her hip.

"You have caused a great deal of trouble. Nearly half the prisoners are gone, and the remainder have had their hope rekindled. It is not good to grant hope to the doomed. It makes them insubordinate." She stretched and unfolded herself from the bench, rising gracefully onto her high, sharp-heeled boots.

"As you may have guessed, I am Arranya, Lady of the fortress." She tossed her mane of glossy black hair over her shoulder and strode sinuously to stand a few feet in front of him, where she surveyed him with arms crossed. Tarron's gaze lingered on the curve of her breasts, and he felt arousal swell in his groin. He looked into her eyes and, trying to hide the fear that was rising in him, said,

"It does not speak well of your fortress that one man alone could gain access and free half the prisoners in your dungeon. I expected better of your defenses." Anger flashed in her eyes.

"You will regret your disrespectful manner." She stepped close to him and grabbed his testicles in a painful grip. His winced as she hissed in his ear, "You will regret being born." She turned and released him with a last painful twist that made him gasp. As the ache in his balls subsided, he realized that he was harder than he had ever been. His heart pounded in fear as the woman ran her fingers over the implements on the wall, and his cock throbbed in time to his heartbeat.

Finally she selected a long leather whip and turned back to him. She took in his parted lips and rigid cock and chuckled.

"So you're one of those," she said softly. "I thought that might be the case. To the townspeople you're a selfless hero, but we know the truth, don't we?" She moved toward him, still smiling.

"How long have you fantasized about this moment, I wonder?" she murmured, absently running the length of the whip through her fingers. "Perhaps you even convinced yourself that you were being noble. Well, we'll strip you of that delusion." The last words were a growl as she sent the whip crashing into his flesh. He jerked futilely against his bonds and his face contorted in pain. Without pause she let the whip fly again. He cried out as the braided leather bit into his tender skin. Again and again she brought the whip down against his chest, his stomach, his ribs, and the trembling skin of his back, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She brought it down against his buttocks, leaving angry crimson stripes, then moved to the backs of his thighs. Tarron's screams echoed against the dungeon walls, and thin trickles of blood began to ooze from the deepest cuts. Finally she stood back, chest heaving, and watched his reaction.

Tarron's body shook and tears ran from his tightly-closed eyes. His cock was still hard, jutting out rigid and red and vulnerable. As the fog of pain receded, he opened his eyes and saw a drop a precum glistening at its tip. Panting, he raised his eyes to Arranya's face. Her eyes burned with lust.

"Enough of this," she breathed. Tarron's eyes widened as she peeled off her top, displaying round, firm breasts tipped with plump nipples. She rubbed them briefly between her thumbs and forefingers, half-closing her eyes, and Tarron saw them harden under her touch. Slowly she bent down to unlace her stiletto-heeled boots. The curve of her bent-over body sent a new throb of longing through him. She moved more quickly as she slid out of her boots and pulled off her leather pants. Her eyes were locked on Tarron. And then she stood before him, naked but for a black satin thong, and Tarron could see the moistness of her arousal shining on the thin strip of fabric between her legs. She stepped so close to him that he could feel the heat of her body, and he strained forward, imagining the feel of his penis against her skin.

"None of that, my little trouble maker." Her voice was almost affectionate. She grazed her long nails lightly over his balls, making him moan, then dug them in sharply. She smiled at his yell of pain and walked back to the wall of implements.

She picked up a small whip with a bundle of thin wire lashes, then moved purposefully to one of the leather devices, and as she lifted it off its peg Tarron got an inkling of what it was meant for. It consisted of several adjustable loops of leather cord held together by steel rings. She let it dangle from one finger, looked at Tarron for a moment and seemed to reach a decision.

"Uther! Kairgon! Strap him to the table." She barked the command and Tarron heard a door open somewhere behind him. He twisted, trying to see the intruders, but his bonds wouldn't let him. He felt a muscular hand grab his arm, and then there were two large men on either side of him, methodically undoing the chains that bound him. He struggled as they released his arms, and one of the men placed a cool piece of metal to his spine and hit a button. He screamed as an electric shock tore through him. Then he sagged, and they turned and dragged him deeper into the room. A low table appeared in front of him, with steel manacles on the corners. He recovered slightly and tried to struggle, and again they placed the weapon to his spine and sent the shock tearing through him. They lifted him onto the table and clapped his wrists in the manacles with speed borne of long practice. Then they forced his legs wide apart and strapped his ankles into the manacles on the other side of the table. The woman appeared in his view, smiling, and dismissed the men with a wave of her hand. Tarron's erection had subsided as the men handled him, but now, gazing at the naked woman before him and realizing how helpless and vulnerable he was, his cock rose again, dark and engorged.

"Now we will begin our fun," she whispered. She grazed her nails slowly from his feet up his legs to the sensitive crease where his thighs met his body, and he shuddered and moaned. She placed the small whip by his side on the table, took the other device she had been carrying and tightened one of its leather cords around his cock and balls, cinching it tight. Then she placed his cock through another loop and his balls through the third, and pulled them so tight that Tarron could feel the blood surge to busting in his groin. His already engorged penis swelled almost painfully.

She let her fingers stroke gently up the length of his shaft, and a drop of precum swelled and glistened. Tarron moaned again and tried to thrust forward against her hand, but she withdrew it and reached for a small packet on a nearby shelf. She opened it slowly, revealing a row of long needles. Tarron's eyes widened in fear.

"Have you ever had a wound stitched with no anaesthetic?" she asked softly. Tarron shook his head, eyes never leaving the shining needles.

"The intensity of the pain varies dramatically depending on where the needles are inserted. up here you can hardly feel it." She pushed a needle through the skin of his upper arm, near the shoulder, and he gritted his teeth. She pushed it out about a centimeter away, leaving a raised ridge where the metal passed under his skin. Tarron craned his neck around to see it. The pain was sharp. She withdrew another needle.

"The underarm is more sensitive. A needle inserted here," she carefully took a pinch of skin from under his arm, "causes a brief, sharp sting." She stabbed it through the pinch of skin between her fingers. Tarron gasped, and a tiny sound of pain escaped him. Arranya seemed not to notice.

"This is where things get interesting," she continued, shifting her attention to his bound and straining crotch. His balls were turning a deep purple color from being bound so tightly. "But I think you need to be sensitized first," She continued. She set down the packet of needles and reached for the short whip with its bundle of wire lashes. She let the lashes glide lightly over his groin. With a sudden flick of her wrist, she sent them slicing into his balls. Every wire felt like a streak of fire burning into him; the pain was exquisite. He cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure and strained at the manacles that bound him to the table. Before he could recover or prepare for the next stroke, she whipped him again, right on the same burning and tender flesh. The wires hissed through the air and struck his balls with a loud crack; he screamed and moisture began to build at the corners of his eyes. Again, and again, and again she struck him, until his whole crotch felt like it was on fire. Then she started landing strokes on his penis, and he felt his balls tightening, preparing to spew cum like never before. Suddenly, she stopped and drew back. He panted, cock quivering and jerking and leaking precum, tears streaming freely from his eyes. The head of his cock was shiny with engorgement, dark and throbbing purple.

"More," he whispered.

Slowly, she set down the whip and picked up the packet of needles.

"Now I think you're sensitized." She withdrew a needle and, gently at first, began to press it into the sore, angry skin of his scrotum covering his right testicle. He whimpered as it broke through the taut skin. Arranya smiled and wiggled it a little, and he let out a small sob. Precum was oozing in a steady stream from his aching cock. Then she pushed the needle out again, and left it piercing him as she withdrew another one. She inserted it in the same way through the skin of his left testicle, pushing slowly until it tore through the thin skin. She inserted third and fourth needles above the first and second, and continued until she reached the base of his penis. When the first needle tore through the tight skin of his cock, he screamed. Slowly she placed needles through the skin on the sides of his cock, one at a time, ignoring his cries. After an eternity of torture, she reached the ridge. He was close to coming again, feeling the pleasure and pain wash in waves through his trembling member. She smiled a cruel smile.

"Do you like ginger?" she asked softly. He stared at her, uncomprehending. She reached toward the shelf on the side of the table and Tarron craned his neck to see a whole ginger root and a long black-handled knife. She picked them up and began peeling the ginger. She carved a narrow strip a couple of inches long and slowly inserted in into the opening of his penis. At first it just felt cool. Then the burning started. He writhed and whimpered as the burning in his penis increased to an intolerable level. She raised the whip again.

"Let's see how much more you can take," she said. She stroked his balls, straining purple in their bonds, stuck with needles. Then she brought the whip crashing down. Without pause, she brought it down again, and again, and again in a rhythm to fast to follow. With her left hand she began lightly stroking his cock, gliding her hand over the smooth ridge. His cries blended into each other, as did the pain of the separate tortures, and the pleasure that boiled in him, ready to explode. She continued whipping him and stroking his cock, faster and faster.

He exploded--cum ripped out of him in a torrent, and his scream was of pleasure and pain together as load after load of hot cum shot from him, searing him with ecstasy. The pleasure washed through him in waves, and it seemed he would come forever, thick white juices spurting from his cock. As the last spurt died away, he collapsed against the stone and sank into uncosciousness.

When he awoke he was in a large, soft bed. He opened his eyes to see Arranya seated in a nearby armchair, toying with a strawberry and watching him.

"Awake at last," she said softly. "Having you nearly makes up for the loss of my other prisoners." She paused, gazing at him. "I think you will be my new favorite." She popped the berry into her mouth and smiled.