How to Break a Man Pt. 03

He went into a thrashing fit beneath her, but she rode down his struggles, twisting this way and that, moving her weight to counter him, always a step ahead. She laughed all the way, chuckling through her exerted breaths. "That's right, keep it up, make it a good fight, make me work for it."

Through all the tossing and turning, he saw a good opening and threw a punch straight towards her face, a wild blow aimed at her chin. She tilted her head to the side, at the last moment, deftly letting it slip by, but that didn't mean she was done with the limb. Diana wrapped her arm around his elbow, holding it close, then slipped the ropes around his wrist. He pushed at her, twisted, but she held fast while she tied a knot around him, pulling it taut, so strong that it dug deep into his skin.

"One down."

She pushed his wrist back to the ground, pinned it, then lifted up and brought her knee down into his stomach, driving the point clean between his abs and driving all the air out of his. He gasped as best he could with the ropes obstructing his mouth, and she took the opportunity to pin his other arm and work on that wrist with rope, tying them together. Around, over and under, looping, pulling, cynching, threading...

Diana tied his wrists together. Just like that. "Two down. Easy."

It was getting hard to breathe, Steven was getting dizzy, but still had the wherewithal to tug at the ropes, trying to pull them apart. He found no success. She secured him tight, and despite the evening darkness making it hard to see, he could see her handiwork. Intricate, detailed, strong ropework. He couldn't have made a better tie if he'd had all day to do it, and she'd pulled it off in a matter of seconds with a resisting subject.

"Not my best, but it'll do." With more rope in hand, she began to slide down his body. "Now, let's get those legs, huh?"

Steven didn't know if she could wrap up his legs with the same ease that she did for his hands, but he had no intention of finding out. She had just started to grab his legs when he made a mad crawl forward, kicking and bucking the whole way. Fuck his hands, he didn't need them to run, he could just get up and bolt straight towards that house. All he had to do was push his way up and go for it.

Diana dashed that hope when she brought her fist up and drove it down hard into his lower back, drilling it into the bone. Steven arched his back and let out a muffled scream before another blow to the same spot flattened him and gave him a numbing pain.

He made a dozen garbled curses towards her, but none of them dissuaded her from straddling his back, spinning around, grabbing his legs with both arms and pulling them up towards his chest. It was a move he'd seen in wrestling when he was a kid. He didn't remember the name, but he could confirm how excruciating it was, especially when the one executing it had Diana's strength

Left, right, up, down, he jolted around like a livewire, but that only made the hold worse. She pulled his legs, further and further, testing the upper limits of his flexibility and his pain tolerance. Both sucked, and his garbled curses were replaced with garbled pleas.

Diana ignored those, too.

After a while - Steven couldn't even guess how long - she released the hold, letting his limp limbs flop to the ground, but stayed astride him. She even scooted up and sat her ass down on top of his, a sensation he would've loved if everything below his waist wasn't such a mess.

He wasn't struggling anymore, wasn't writhing, wasn't even moving. He just laid there with his face planted in the grass, covering his sobs. Diana couldn't have asked for easier prey, and after a hard sigh, she went to work.

She had a good deal of more rope to work with, and she used every inch of it. She fastened his legs together, secured the knees, wrapped the ankles, chained them together and secured them tight with another strand, creating this complicated network of ropes, a spider's web, so elaborate that he couldn't guess where to start unraveling it. She worked with a mechanical precision, but there was an art to it, and he was the unwilling canvas.

When she was finished, she stood up, walked to the side, and gave him a rough kick in the ribs, hitting with enough force to flip him over and leave him howling. He rolled over to his back, and he would've rolled even further still if she hadn't slammed her foot into his chest and pinned him to the cold earth.

"That's for making me run. Ass." She pressed down and twisted her foot into his skin while she looked him over. Despite the dark, despite the wincing, Steven could still see that she was contemplating something from the look in those wild eyes. Thinking, scheming, planning. He was shivering, and it wasn't just from being naked in the night air.

"Not bad. Not bad." She nodded. "But I can make it better. Come on."

Diana grabbed him by the rope on his ankle and dragged him along the grass, hauling him along like an overstuffed garbage bag. It was rough on his back, but not nearly as bad as the asphalt on her back porch, cutting and scraping across his bare flesh. The rug burn from the carpet in her living room was only a minor improvement, and he welcomed the relief when she brought it all to a stop in his cell, with the smooth pads soothing his back.

She let his legs drop and left him there, right in the middle of the cell, staring up at the ceiling lights while he wallowed and chewed on the ropes. It was a fight just to regain control of his breath, much less escape his bonds. "I'll be right back." She poked the side of his thigh with her toe. "Don't go anywhere."

Diana spun about on her heel and skipped off with another word, disappearing into the hall, out of sight. He heard the door to her storage closet open, followed by some fumbling with a lock. He remembered there being some kind of heavy-duty storage container in there, but he hadn't bothered to look in it, figuring it was just a regular tool box. What could she be getting out of a tool box to deal with him?

Steven thought up a wide range of answers to that question, and every one of them disturbed him more than the one that came before it. It was enough to bring him some renewed strength, which he used to struggle in his bonds, but that was no use. Not only had she tied him up well, but she'd done so in a way where fighting the ropes only made them coil tight, digging into skin and threatening his circulation.

If he'd had enough time to figure it out, maybe he could get free, but what little time he had was already up. Diana was returning, and she hadn't come back empty handed.

His squirming came to a sudden halt when he saw the objects in her hands. One had a small remote, some simple device that didn't worry him all that much. No, the other hand demanded his full attention. That one had some kind of contraption, but not like anything he could identify. It was a round, short metal tube with holes at both ends, attached to some small device, like a battery, with a small, blinking red light. It was speckled with rust, as if it had seen use for at least a decade and seen much better days. Was it meant to go around one of his fingers? It looked too big for that. It had this curved shape to it, too. The closer she came, the more it looked like the shape of a penis.

As she stepped over him and began to descend on his groin, the pieces came together and the realization struck. Diana must've seen in his eyes. "Don't move. You'll just make it that much harder."

That was one order Steve had no intention of following. With his favorite body part in danger, he pushed his feet against the floor and tried to slide away from her, knowing full well there was nowhere to go, but not much caring. Any distance was good.

It had to make for a pathetic scene, but she wasn't amused. She stood up, took a step forward, and planted her foot right on his throat. She slid it in and pressed deep for a solid choke, robbing him of what little air he could steal through the ropes. "Steven," She kept her voice calm, monotone, and clear. "This is happening. The only question's whether or not you'll be conscious for it" She let up and rubbed her toes down the middle of his face, pinching his nose between them.. "Relax. Let it happen."

Steven was breathing hard and heavy, but he forced some calm into his body and got it under control as Diana's foot loomed over his face, threatening to bring it crashing down. She brought it away only after he'd gotten it down to a normal level, then turned around and crouched to resume her work.

The frigid metal came around Steven's dick, sliding into the contraption. It was a loose fit at first, but it tightened as Diana made some adjustments, and soon it was so snug he might've thought it was made just for his girth. It locked at the bottom, making for a secure fit, and with that, her work was done.

Diana stood and moved away, letting Steven see her handiwork. Sure enough, the device was locked around his penis, with a small opening at the top for any of his bathroom needs. It weighed him down, a disconcerting force where it was least welcome, but that wasn't his biggest concern. The little battery attached to it bothered him more than anything.

"Now, let's see if I remember the instructions right on this." Diana muttered under her breath while she fiddled with the remote, more focused on the buttons than him at the moment. "I just need to press this, hold it down, and-"

A jolt shot through Steven's penis, this white hot shock that lit up every nerve in his groin at once. It felt like someone kicked him in the groin and held their foot there, twisting the point of the boot and grinding into him. This raw, maddening kind of pain that left him jerking about the floor, shrieking into the ropes.

It only lasted a few seconds, no more than five, but it was enough to leave him wrecked on the floor. He curled up into the fetal position and reached down to massage his privates.

Diana looked on and shrugged with a small chuckle. "Yup, still works. I don't get to use this often, rarely get this serious. But you? You're a special case, aren't you, Steven?" She leaned over and held the remote out, staring at him, waiting for him to center on it. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

"Dance."

She pressed the button again and he went into mad convulsions, squirming about like a worm on a hook. He contorted into shapes he never knew his body was capable of, tensed his muscles to the point where he feared they would snap, and roared with guttural, inhuman noises that left his throat raw.

Through it all, Diana watched with a placid gaze. Still, except for the occasional blink. She let it go on and on and on, until, at last, she pressed the button again and ended the torture. Maybe out of pity. Probably out of boredom.

With the show over, she straightened up and walked to the door, trampling his stomach instead of walking over on the way. She clicked the lights off. "I'd really thought you were starting to get it, Steven. Thought it was sinking in." She waved the remote about as he looked her way, staring at her through bleary eyes. "But it's okay. I'm a patient teacher. You'll see."

Diana closed the door, and Steven began his night in a personal hell. Trying to find sleep like this was a hellish task, moving around with his bound limps and his ensnared cock, struggling to find the perfect spot with the most comfort. He tossed, turned, moved this way and that, going for the sweet spot, and after the better part of an hour, he finally found it and drifted into slumber.

Only for a shock to wake him up a few minutes later.

That was the way the night went from then on. Ever so often, with no warning, a shock would come and leave him writhing. Sometimes it was a brief tinge. Sometimes it went on for minutes. Sometimes they came back to back. Sometimes there were long pauses. There was no preparing for it, no guessing the pattern, and the mere threat of it was enough to ruin his sleep.

Hours passed. Tortured, fearful, heated hours, which left him soaked in sweat and tears, shivering and shaking and whimpering. So weak, so weary, with his empty stomach churning. His body gave out, exhaustion took him, and that was how he slipped into a fitful sleep.

T.