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Put to Death: A Modern Crucifixion Story
- Thread starter Cruxfan23
- Start date
Cruxfan23
Onlooker
Part 3
I cry out as pain washes back over me. Was I unconscious? How long was I out?
And why did I have to wake up?
I tentatively try to move, but with all four limbs now secured, the best I can manage is to twist my torso slightly. I suspect the bend in my legs might also enable me to push myself up a short way, but I have no interest in putting any extra pressure on my ruined feet in order to find out. Any further movement is impossible. Fresh panic bubbles up inside me as the extent of my helplessness becomes clear.
Im fully crucified.
Nothing could have prepared me for such an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Worse still, the breeze against my skin reminds me I'm completely naked. My entire body is on display, and I'm utterly powerless to defend my most intimate areas.
I force my attention outwards to take stock of my surroundings. Most of the guards have moved on, although one still remains, making some final adjustments to the base of my cross.
I spot the rest of his team to my left, busy with their next victim. He's a young guy, about my own age, with wavy brown hair. He's already recieved one of his nails, and like me, is fighting the second. I'm struck by how pathetic his cock looks as it flops side to side while he struggles. Did mine do that? Jesus-
I lose track of his battle when a fresh wave of agony drags me back into myself. But even as pain subsides, I become aware of a new discomfort: a dreadful tightness in my chest. My lungs feel as though they are trapped in a vice, unable to work properly. And with this discovery comes a terrifying realisation:
It's becoming harder and harder to breathe.
I try not to panic any further, telling myself the tension will pass if I just ignore it. When that doesn't work, I focus on remaining completely still, thinking maybe my struggles are to blame. But every second I spend hanging from wrists only serves to make things worse.
I had obviously expected the pain from the nails. And given the circumstances, the rapidly increasing strain on my arms and shoulders is not suprising. But this feeling of suffocation is new, and far more terrifying.
I try desperately to think of a solution, but with my movement so limited, I have no idea what to do. Finally, though, through the haze of fear and pain, I realise there's one thing I havent tried yet:
Using my legs.
Just the thought of putting any kind of pressure on my shattered heelbones makes me sick with dread. But I have no choice. I reluctantly tense my thighs, pressing agonisingly down on the nails in my feet, and manage to shift some part of my weight onto my legs instead of my arms. The crushing pressure in my ribcage immediately subsides, and I'm able to suck in a few shallow breaths. But all too quickly the pain in my feet becomes unbearable, and I sink back down, only to find the tightness in my chest return. Except now its worse. The gargantuan effort of raising myself has left my lungs straining more than ever, overwhelmed by cries for oxygen from my depleted muscles. I can't be expected to go on like this.
Something must be wrong.
"I can't breathe."
I say it more to myself than anyone in particular, but the man at the base of my cross looks up.
"Effective, isn't it," he states plainly.
His voice takes me by surprise. Throughout this whole ordeal, not one single person has acknowledged me as anything more than a piece of meat to be processed. I tilt my head to make eye contact, wincing even from that small movement.
"You can't just hang there," he continues. "You have to fight. No point, of course. But your body doesn't know that."
He's right. Already my survival instincts are taking over, forcing me to move again in spite of the pain. My thighs tense on their own, blind to the screams of protest coming from my feet, and force my body upwards to relieve the pressure in my chest. Every muscle straining, my lungs are able to suck in a few more breaths until the effort becomes too much and I sink back down.
The man watches and nods with satisfaction. "Yep. Your body's gonna carry on fighting, tearing itself apart just to prolong the inevitable." He shakes his head. "But nobody survives the cross. You'll keep on with your little dance until it feels like you can't go on, but you still won't be able to stop. You'll fight, and fight, and fight...and only then, once every last muscle has given out, once every last fibre is spent..." he trails off. "Well. You get the idea."
I watch the man rise to his feet, apparently finished with his work. I have one last question for him.
"How...how long does it take?"
"Why, have you got somewhere to be?" He chuckles at his own joke, then looks me up and down, eyes roving over my naked body as if seeing it for the first time. "Someone in your physical condition? Two days," he states. "Maybe three. But nobody lasts longer than three days."
I can't imagine surviving three days of this. The pain is simply too much.
The man checks his tools, then turns to leave.
"Dont go," I say quietly.
Despite the cruelty his comrades have inflicted upon me, I'm acutely aware that this man is the only reason the crowds are still keeping their distance. When he leaves, the real torment begins.
Im certain he knows it too, but he shows no sympathy for my plight. "Work to do," he grunts, taking one last look at my tortured body. "I hope you're ready. You're going to be popular."
And then the man is gone, leaving me to ponder his ominous words.
It doesnt take long for his prophecy to ring true. Men, women, children; I am quickly hemmed in by people from all walks of life. They point at me, touch me, take photos. And there's nothing I can do to stop them. I'm trapped in my own private hell, every nerve ending on fire, every breath an agonizing fight against gravity...while all around me, people laugh and cheer, pose for photos while toying with my exposed genitals. I begin to feel a strange sense of detachment. This cant be happening, I realise. It's too surreal.
And yet it must be real. For even in my worst nightmares, I could never have imagined such a hellish place to trap myself in.
I'm distracted from my thoughts by the sudden arrival of a man with a street cart. Even through the haze of pain, I can't help but roll my eyes. Wherever there are crowds, there are always those looking to make profit. He has all the usual junk: selfie sticks, balloons, flashing lights. But most of his cart is given over to more specialized items: disposable gloves, bottles of lube, shock-prods, condoms...and most worryingly of all, a large selection of comically oversized dildos, no doubt optimised for "entertainment." I feel sick to my stomach as I realise any one of them could be used on me.
I watch with growing apprehension as a flurry of activity takes place around him. I see negotiations take place, money change hands, but a sudden cramp in my arm brings a fresh wave of pain washing over me. I grit my teeth, try to push through it, but its too late. Already my vision is turning dark...
I cry out as pain washes back over me. Was I unconscious? How long was I out?
And why did I have to wake up?
I tentatively try to move, but with all four limbs now secured, the best I can manage is to twist my torso slightly. I suspect the bend in my legs might also enable me to push myself up a short way, but I have no interest in putting any extra pressure on my ruined feet in order to find out. Any further movement is impossible. Fresh panic bubbles up inside me as the extent of my helplessness becomes clear.
Im fully crucified.
Nothing could have prepared me for such an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Worse still, the breeze against my skin reminds me I'm completely naked. My entire body is on display, and I'm utterly powerless to defend my most intimate areas.
I force my attention outwards to take stock of my surroundings. Most of the guards have moved on, although one still remains, making some final adjustments to the base of my cross.
I spot the rest of his team to my left, busy with their next victim. He's a young guy, about my own age, with wavy brown hair. He's already recieved one of his nails, and like me, is fighting the second. I'm struck by how pathetic his cock looks as it flops side to side while he struggles. Did mine do that? Jesus-
I lose track of his battle when a fresh wave of agony drags me back into myself. But even as pain subsides, I become aware of a new discomfort: a dreadful tightness in my chest. My lungs feel as though they are trapped in a vice, unable to work properly. And with this discovery comes a terrifying realisation:
It's becoming harder and harder to breathe.
I try not to panic any further, telling myself the tension will pass if I just ignore it. When that doesn't work, I focus on remaining completely still, thinking maybe my struggles are to blame. But every second I spend hanging from wrists only serves to make things worse.
I had obviously expected the pain from the nails. And given the circumstances, the rapidly increasing strain on my arms and shoulders is not suprising. But this feeling of suffocation is new, and far more terrifying.
I try desperately to think of a solution, but with my movement so limited, I have no idea what to do. Finally, though, through the haze of fear and pain, I realise there's one thing I havent tried yet:
Using my legs.
Just the thought of putting any kind of pressure on my shattered heelbones makes me sick with dread. But I have no choice. I reluctantly tense my thighs, pressing agonisingly down on the nails in my feet, and manage to shift some part of my weight onto my legs instead of my arms. The crushing pressure in my ribcage immediately subsides, and I'm able to suck in a few shallow breaths. But all too quickly the pain in my feet becomes unbearable, and I sink back down, only to find the tightness in my chest return. Except now its worse. The gargantuan effort of raising myself has left my lungs straining more than ever, overwhelmed by cries for oxygen from my depleted muscles. I can't be expected to go on like this.
Something must be wrong.
"I can't breathe."
I say it more to myself than anyone in particular, but the man at the base of my cross looks up.
"Effective, isn't it," he states plainly.
His voice takes me by surprise. Throughout this whole ordeal, not one single person has acknowledged me as anything more than a piece of meat to be processed. I tilt my head to make eye contact, wincing even from that small movement.
"You can't just hang there," he continues. "You have to fight. No point, of course. But your body doesn't know that."
He's right. Already my survival instincts are taking over, forcing me to move again in spite of the pain. My thighs tense on their own, blind to the screams of protest coming from my feet, and force my body upwards to relieve the pressure in my chest. Every muscle straining, my lungs are able to suck in a few more breaths until the effort becomes too much and I sink back down.
The man watches and nods with satisfaction. "Yep. Your body's gonna carry on fighting, tearing itself apart just to prolong the inevitable." He shakes his head. "But nobody survives the cross. You'll keep on with your little dance until it feels like you can't go on, but you still won't be able to stop. You'll fight, and fight, and fight...and only then, once every last muscle has given out, once every last fibre is spent..." he trails off. "Well. You get the idea."
I watch the man rise to his feet, apparently finished with his work. I have one last question for him.
"How...how long does it take?"
"Why, have you got somewhere to be?" He chuckles at his own joke, then looks me up and down, eyes roving over my naked body as if seeing it for the first time. "Someone in your physical condition? Two days," he states. "Maybe three. But nobody lasts longer than three days."
I can't imagine surviving three days of this. The pain is simply too much.
The man checks his tools, then turns to leave.
"Dont go," I say quietly.
Despite the cruelty his comrades have inflicted upon me, I'm acutely aware that this man is the only reason the crowds are still keeping their distance. When he leaves, the real torment begins.
Im certain he knows it too, but he shows no sympathy for my plight. "Work to do," he grunts, taking one last look at my tortured body. "I hope you're ready. You're going to be popular."
And then the man is gone, leaving me to ponder his ominous words.
It doesnt take long for his prophecy to ring true. Men, women, children; I am quickly hemmed in by people from all walks of life. They point at me, touch me, take photos. And there's nothing I can do to stop them. I'm trapped in my own private hell, every nerve ending on fire, every breath an agonizing fight against gravity...while all around me, people laugh and cheer, pose for photos while toying with my exposed genitals. I begin to feel a strange sense of detachment. This cant be happening, I realise. It's too surreal.
And yet it must be real. For even in my worst nightmares, I could never have imagined such a hellish place to trap myself in.
I'm distracted from my thoughts by the sudden arrival of a man with a street cart. Even through the haze of pain, I can't help but roll my eyes. Wherever there are crowds, there are always those looking to make profit. He has all the usual junk: selfie sticks, balloons, flashing lights. But most of his cart is given over to more specialized items: disposable gloves, bottles of lube, shock-prods, condoms...and most worryingly of all, a large selection of comically oversized dildos, no doubt optimised for "entertainment." I feel sick to my stomach as I realise any one of them could be used on me.
I watch with growing apprehension as a flurry of activity takes place around him. I see negotiations take place, money change hands, but a sudden cramp in my arm brings a fresh wave of pain washing over me. I grit my teeth, try to push through it, but its too late. Already my vision is turning dark...
Cruxfan23
Onlooker
Suddenly I'm awake. I instantly try to recoil, all senses utterly overwhelmed even before they have fully come back online. There's noise and movement everywhere; bright colours, shapes...pain.
Oh god the pain.
My mind is still foggy and my vision blurred, so it's a moment before I can remember where I am or why everything hurts. For some reason my arms arent working, not to mention there's a crushing pain in my chest...
I need to breathe.
Instinct forces me up to fill my lungs, and after a few gulps of air, my head begins to clear. But at the same time, I become aware of a new sensation. A deep, dull ache in my lower body, as though my rectum has been stretched wide open. I groan, forcing my eyes to focus, trying to readjust to my surroundings. I realise someone is standing beside me, to my left. A man, close to middle age, with a shaved head and wide grin. The crowd seem just as interested in him as they are in me. I notice his right arm is raised at a strange angle, and I follow it with my eyes; around the back of my left knee, up behind my thigh, straight towards-
Suddenly the reason for the mysterious pain in my ass becomes clear. He's got a dildo. A big one. And he's been holding it deep inside me.
I've not even been up here ten minutes and im already being fucked.
The man's grin widens as he watches the realisation dawn on my face.
"First time?" he asks coyly, triggering a wave of laughter from the crowd.
I instinctively push myself upwards in an attempt to escape, but its no good. The thing is huge, and the man simply thrusts further upwards to prevent me from lifting myself free. With my legs fully extended, I try twisting my torso, hoping to find some position where my ass becomes inaccessible, but it's hopeless. There is no way to escape this humiliating assault. And with the pain in my feet worsening with every passing second, I have no choice but to accept my fate. I slowly slide back down, surrendering my ass to the penetratition.
I've never been fucked before, so I'm not entirely sure what to expect. But if any subtle pleasure can ever be found from this unnatural act, I know that the sheer size of the thing invading me will ensure i feel none of it.
The man begins slowly, easing the shaft in an out as though allowing time for my body to adjust. Even so, the feeling is awful. I feel it pushing against my organs, rearranging my insides with each tiny movement. The crowd cheers him on, calling for him to increase his assault as they record with their phones. He obliges, slowly increasing the speed while watching my face for any kind of reaction.
I'm determined not to give a good show. I grit my teeth, trying to resist any unwarranted noises that could be mistaken for groans plasure. But it's no good, the rhythmic pounding intensifies until an involuntary moan escapes. And worse. Perhaps its the lack of oxygen in my brain. Perhaps it's the movement against balls. Or perhaps it's some regressive, primal reflex, triggered by that monstrous thing being forced ever-deeper inside....but whatever the reason, I feel my cock begin to harden.
I rally my thoughts, desperate to spare myself from this most basic and shameful of humiliations. But it's no good. Those at the front of the crowd chatter excitely as my arousal becomes apparent.
My tormenter gleefully turns to report this new development to his audience. "He's enjoying it!"
Already there were multiple cameras trained on me, but now more emerge, their owners eager to capture the scene unfolding before them. Enjoying the attention, the man continues his work. Every now and then he pushes extra deep, forcing me to heave myself up the cross to ease the pain.
A woman joins him beside me. She reaches up and carefully takes takes my hardened cock into her hand. I know exactly where this is going.
"Please. No..."
But already she has begun, her hand moving slowly up and down my shaft. I'm powerless to resist. The man slows his assault with the dildo, allowing the woman to take the lead, and gradually I feel my body nearing completion. I try to distract myself, to focus on other things, but the powerful sensation in my cock is impossible to ignore. It's only a matter of time before I find myself balanced perilously on the edge.
Then, finally, it happens.
My body tenses, straining against the nails holding it in place. I make one last, desperate effort to hold it in, to avoid this final act of humiliation, but its no good. I close my eyes, feel my body release, and surrender. A groan of anguish escapes my lips as my cock pulses, wasting load after load if hot cum on the dirt below. The crowd cheers wildly as they watch.
Finally, utterly spent, my body goes limp. The woman releases her grip, pats my tender balls for good measure, and the dildo is slid back out.
I feel shame beyond anything I have ever felt before. This most personal act, laid bare for all the world to see...I can't imagine how things can get any worse.
But I know beyond doubt that they will.
Oh god the pain.
My mind is still foggy and my vision blurred, so it's a moment before I can remember where I am or why everything hurts. For some reason my arms arent working, not to mention there's a crushing pain in my chest...
I need to breathe.
Instinct forces me up to fill my lungs, and after a few gulps of air, my head begins to clear. But at the same time, I become aware of a new sensation. A deep, dull ache in my lower body, as though my rectum has been stretched wide open. I groan, forcing my eyes to focus, trying to readjust to my surroundings. I realise someone is standing beside me, to my left. A man, close to middle age, with a shaved head and wide grin. The crowd seem just as interested in him as they are in me. I notice his right arm is raised at a strange angle, and I follow it with my eyes; around the back of my left knee, up behind my thigh, straight towards-
Suddenly the reason for the mysterious pain in my ass becomes clear. He's got a dildo. A big one. And he's been holding it deep inside me.
I've not even been up here ten minutes and im already being fucked.
The man's grin widens as he watches the realisation dawn on my face.
"First time?" he asks coyly, triggering a wave of laughter from the crowd.
I instinctively push myself upwards in an attempt to escape, but its no good. The thing is huge, and the man simply thrusts further upwards to prevent me from lifting myself free. With my legs fully extended, I try twisting my torso, hoping to find some position where my ass becomes inaccessible, but it's hopeless. There is no way to escape this humiliating assault. And with the pain in my feet worsening with every passing second, I have no choice but to accept my fate. I slowly slide back down, surrendering my ass to the penetratition.
I've never been fucked before, so I'm not entirely sure what to expect. But if any subtle pleasure can ever be found from this unnatural act, I know that the sheer size of the thing invading me will ensure i feel none of it.
The man begins slowly, easing the shaft in an out as though allowing time for my body to adjust. Even so, the feeling is awful. I feel it pushing against my organs, rearranging my insides with each tiny movement. The crowd cheers him on, calling for him to increase his assault as they record with their phones. He obliges, slowly increasing the speed while watching my face for any kind of reaction.
I'm determined not to give a good show. I grit my teeth, trying to resist any unwarranted noises that could be mistaken for groans plasure. But it's no good, the rhythmic pounding intensifies until an involuntary moan escapes. And worse. Perhaps its the lack of oxygen in my brain. Perhaps it's the movement against balls. Or perhaps it's some regressive, primal reflex, triggered by that monstrous thing being forced ever-deeper inside....but whatever the reason, I feel my cock begin to harden.
I rally my thoughts, desperate to spare myself from this most basic and shameful of humiliations. But it's no good. Those at the front of the crowd chatter excitely as my arousal becomes apparent.
My tormenter gleefully turns to report this new development to his audience. "He's enjoying it!"
Already there were multiple cameras trained on me, but now more emerge, their owners eager to capture the scene unfolding before them. Enjoying the attention, the man continues his work. Every now and then he pushes extra deep, forcing me to heave myself up the cross to ease the pain.
A woman joins him beside me. She reaches up and carefully takes takes my hardened cock into her hand. I know exactly where this is going.
"Please. No..."
But already she has begun, her hand moving slowly up and down my shaft. I'm powerless to resist. The man slows his assault with the dildo, allowing the woman to take the lead, and gradually I feel my body nearing completion. I try to distract myself, to focus on other things, but the powerful sensation in my cock is impossible to ignore. It's only a matter of time before I find myself balanced perilously on the edge.
Then, finally, it happens.
My body tenses, straining against the nails holding it in place. I make one last, desperate effort to hold it in, to avoid this final act of humiliation, but its no good. I close my eyes, feel my body release, and surrender. A groan of anguish escapes my lips as my cock pulses, wasting load after load if hot cum on the dirt below. The crowd cheers wildly as they watch.
Finally, utterly spent, my body goes limp. The woman releases her grip, pats my tender balls for good measure, and the dildo is slid back out.
I feel shame beyond anything I have ever felt before. This most personal act, laid bare for all the world to see...I can't imagine how things can get any worse.
But I know beyond doubt that they will.
andy01
Magistrate
What can I - can anyone - add to this stunning piece and Aedile's comment
andy01
Magistrate
Terrific
tygavin
Magistrate
H
Hot. As someone who loves male and female crux it hit the right buttons as far as males go for me at least. Fondled made to cum in front of a crowd is always hot even if it just regular bondage. Keep it up.
tygavin
Magistrate
T
his is so damn hot
His body has already been stripped and exposed, but in this moment his dignity has been stripped from him and his soul exposed. Reduced to pure physical reaction, his most intimate secrets exposed as base animal functions, this marks his moment of full surrender to the cross.
I'm loving this story Cruxfan, you show the cross at its best, stripping the victim down to his most basic components.
Cruxfan23
Onlooker
Even before I have regained my breath, people have begun to play back their recordings. I am forced to listen to the echoes of my ordeal over and over as my audience excitedly discusses the details of my unwilling performance, all while uploading it to their socials. I don't know whats worse; the fact that millions of people will now be able to witness my shuddering, tortured orgasm, or that my plight is unlikely to register as anything more than a brief yet mildly amusing footnote in their feed.
Surely the crowd will leave now, I tell myself. What else do I have left to give?
But already they are discussing what to do next. They loudly chatter about whether it might be possible to somehow fix the dildo inside me, or whether a larger one would offer even more fun.
And then the Host arrives.
I have no idea who he is. A wide-eyed, twitchy little man in a top hat, but some people seem to recognise him. He hurries around with a couple of assistants, moving people away from the crosses, setting up cameras, preparing equipment. He constructs some kind of display between me and the guy to my left, something like a big scoreboard, while his assistants set up a ladder behind me. I sense somebody climbing the ladder, then something is attached to the cross above me, although I can't tilt my head far enough to see what it is.
Eventually the Host fixes his attention directly upon me. He produces a can of spraypaint and sprays a crude number "1" on my chest, then pulls something else from his pocket: some kind of device, in the form of a small black box with a short strap. He fiddles with it for a moment, then reaches up and takes hold of my exposed balls. I struggle, but he makes no effort to hurt me; he simply attaches the device, gives me a cheeky wink, then moves to the guy on my left. He repeats the whole process, except with a number "2" sprayed on the guy's chest instead.
I still have no idea what to make of the situation.
Finally, the Host takes a microphone from one of his assistants, and signals the cameraman to begin.
"Hello!" he booms. "And welcome to another episode of Cross Wars! You regulars will already know the drill, but for anyone just tuning in, here's how it works. Our two lucky contestants-" he gestures in our direction "-are pitted against each other to see who can get the most points! Points are earned by triggering the sensor above their heads. They just need to push themselves up, and ding, they get a point! The longer they manage to hold themselves up per attempt, the more points they get. Yes, it really is that simple. And whoever has the most points after thirty minutes, wins!"
He pauses and taps his ear, pretending to focus on some imaginary earpiece. "Whats that, Jimmy? What if they dont want to play? Good question, Jimmy! Well, luckily we already have that covered. If anyone's lagging behind, you guys at home can simply activate that car battery hooked up to their balls!"
So that's what it is. I glance down at the thing attached to me, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever. I was powerless to defend myself before, but now I wont even see the attack coming. Somehow that's even worse. And on my balls no less, the most sensitive part if my body...
"That's right, folks," the Host continues. "If the scores arent even, its over to you, my lovely viewers." He leans in close to the camera and taps the lense for emphasis. "You should see plenty of options on your screen for some good old electricity-to-the-balls encouragement! You'll see the option to donate, too, which unlocks bigger shocks and other premium features. What are you waiting for?"
I turn my head towards my opponent, and for a moment we lock eyes, silently agreeing not to give these people the show they want. I'm certain we're both thinking the same thing: so long as we both stay on zero, we cant get shocked for falling behind.
...right?
The Host seems oblivious to our plan. "Ready...set...go!"
A Horn sounds, and the game has begun.
Nothing much happens for the first couple of minutes. My instinct to breathe - and my opponent's, too - grows stronger with each passing second, but neither of us move, not wanting to risk inadvertently tripping the sensor above our heads.
Another minute passes without movement, and another. The Host taps his mic impatiently, and sighs dramatically. "Looks like our players need some encouragement." He reaches into one of his pockets and produces a small handset. "This should do it!"
My heart sinks. I should have guessed he would have some kind of back-up plan. I glance down at the thing attached to me, then over to my rival. He's still clearly on the same wavelength: no matter how much it hurts, we've suffered worse already.
The host smiles wickedly. "Let's see how they do with ten percent."
No sooner has he finished speaking, a fiery pain erupts in my balls. My muscles tense, my spine arcs against the wood behind me, and my thighs clamp together defensively. I hear the guy next to me swear loudly.
Then the pain is gone, leaving us both gasping. But still, neither of us give in.
"Ooh, still a stalemate," the Host croons. "Lets try twenty percent. I wonder who will crack first? Place your bets folks!"
The next shock is noticeably worse, and the ache in my chest is fast approaching unbearable. But still I refuse to give in.
Im so focused on fighting my instinct to breathe that the noise from the cross next to me takes a moment to register.
Ding.
"And we're off!" cries the Host. "Number Two takes the lead!"
God damnit. I turn my head to fire a glare at my opponent, but he doesn't make eye contact. Already he is tensing to rise again.
Ding.
"Number two strengthens his lead! Still no movement from one, but I'm sure he'll have a change of heart soon enough. Remember, folks at home, if anyones lagging behind, its over to you!"
I silently hope that nobody is watching, but it's clear from the massive crowd that enough sick fuckers exist in the world for at least a handful to be watching online. And sure enough, I dont have to wait long until the first remote shock comes in. It takes me by surprise, causing me to wrench against my nails, a pain almost as bad as the shock itself.
"Fuck!" I gasp.
I carefully allow myself to go limp again, but thirty seconds later another shock rolls in, and another. Each burst sets my body dancing, increasing my need to breathe. I can't hold out much longer.
A quick glance at the scoreboard, and realize there's no longer anything to gain from fighting the pain in my chest. So long as I dont take the lead, I can continue to breathe without being a complete puppet for their entertainment.
I force my thigh muscles back into action, pushing myself up to suck in a single, deep breath.
Ding.
I quickly sink back down to avoid tripping the sensor again. Lungs gratefully filled, I pray I can hold on for a few more minutes before my instincts force me to even the scores.
Another ding from my opponent, and more electricty pours into my balls. The shock lasts longer this time, and grit my teeth, trying to ignore the resentment growing inside me. This is his fault, I think through the burning pain. He gave in so easily. He should be the one suffering.
Another shock, and another. My balls are now beginning to ache even when current isn't passing through them. I start to worry that the damage might be permanent, then remind myself that it doesnt matter. I wont be starting a family anytime soon. My genitals now exist purely as soft, sensitive targets for more pain.
Two more shocks come in quick succession and my resolve finally breaks. Fuck this, i think to myself. There might not be any biological reason to avoid the shocks, but they still fucking hurt. I decide it's time the other guy took some punishment.
I push myself up, determined to hold on as long as it takes to pull ahead.
Ding.
"Another point for number one! And he seems to be holding on for more..."
Ding.
Ding.
"And number one takes the lead!"
Muscles straining, I turn to glare at my opponent, to watch as justice is served. I smile as he convulses in pain, but I'm not done yet. I want to put as many points between me and this fucker as possible.
Ding. Ding.
Still I remain upright. But although my strength of will is somehow enough to overcome the screams of protest coming from my shattered heels, it's fast becoming clear that pain from my wounds isnt going to be my only problem. With my feet nailed as they are, it's impossible to straighten my legs enough to lock my knees. Instead, I have to rely entirely on my thigh muscles to remain upright. It's a gruelling position to hold, and already my legs are are shaking from the exertion. I know they won't last much longer...
Ding.
With a final shudder, my legs give out completely, dropping my weight hard onto the nails in my wrists. I cry out in pain and annoyance, then quickly try to push up again. But my legs need time to recover, time that i dont have. My opponent is already rising again, ready to retake the lead.
Ding...ding.
Almost immediately a shock comes in. I re-double my efforts to push, and somehow manage to force myself up...
Ding.
And so it continues. One of us fighting to regain the lead, the other enduring shocks as we wait for our legs to recover. Occassionally we pause to observe each other, but neither of us speak. Time moves slowly, punctuated only by pain and laughter from the crowd.
"We're on the home stretch now!" booms the Host suddenly. "Number two is in the lead with forty-two points, number one is trailing with forty. Just five minutes left!"
I hadn't realised the end was so near. Hope rises inside me. Is there a prize? Do we earn some kind of release from this hellish existence?
My opponent is clearly thinking the same thing. "what do we win?" he croaks.
"Respect!" beams the Host.
My heart sinks.
"The loser, on the other hand, gets to join me for round two!"
Round two? Fuck. I cant go through this a second time. I force my legs into action once more, determined to take the lead.
Ding..ding...
ding...ding...
"And number one takes a healthy lead!"
My thighs shudder, threatening to give out, and I allow myself to sink lower. I move slowly, allowing myself enough time to ease back down and avoid jarring the nails in my wrists. With the weight safely transferred, I turn to see how my opponent responds. Except he doesnt. I use the opportunity to drag myself up again, securing another two points. If I can just hold the lead for a few more minutes...
A few painful-sounding shocks later and my opponent finally comes to life, but he cant manage more than a single point at a time. I decide to wait until he evens the score, then hopefully my legs will have recovered enough for the final push for victory. I watch him carefully as he rises and falls, each time adding a single point to his score.
"Its neck and neck!" crows the host urgently. "One minute left!"
Its time to end this. I brace myself and push upwards with everything I have left.
Ding.
I hold my position, desperately trying to block out the screams of protest coming from every part of my body.
...ding...
I can do this-
Without warning, a blast if white-hot electricity cuts through me. It knocks my legs out from under me and sends me crashing back down, jarring my wrists agonisingly against the metal spikes. I howl through gritted teeth.
What the fuck? I was in the lead!
The Host claps his hands excitedly. "Ooh, that will be one of our top donators weighing in," he states. "Remember, donators can strike whoever and whenever they like! Looks like number two might have a chance after all."
Im annoyed but not defeated. I push again-
Only to have another shock pumped into my defenseless balls. I dont even manage to trigger the sensor before my attempt is ended.
"That's not fair!" I gasp, sparing a glance to my left. My opponent has apparently been allowed to continue his slow advance unhindered. I'm running out of time.
I push again, praying that whoever is shocking me has had enough. My prayers go unanswered.
"Fuck!" I howl as the electricty cuts into me. I fix my eyes on the cameras, desperate for mercy. "Please!"
But its too late. Before I can try again, another horn sounds, announcing that the competition is over.
"And we have a winner!" cries the Host. "Number two claims victory. Thanks for tuning in, folks at home. And remember, donators also have access to exclusove camera feeds and behind the scene footage, so be sure to check that out. See you next time!"
He signals to the cameraman to cut the feed.
"Christ, its hot". He hands his mic to an assistant then grabs a bottle of water, which he drinks thirstily. I eye the bottle jealously, and dont quite manage to look away in time when he notices. "Thirsty?" he asks mockingly.
I dont reply.
"You did good up there," he says, making a convincing effort to sound sincere.
"Fuck you," I reply.
"Now now," he says, wandering over. "Im being serious." He pats me on the thigh.
"I... I was winning."
"Take it as a compliment," he smiles. "Somebody really want to see you again!" He reaches between my legs and carefully deactivates the thing around my balls, but makes no effort to remove it.
I shake my head. "Please...no more."
The man shrugs. "The public wants what the public wants."
My eyes drop back to his water bottle. God, im thirsty. But even so, I can't bring myself to ask for charity.
The man follows my gaze. "Oh. This?" He smiles and offers it up to me. "Go on. Youve earned it."
I stare at the sparkling liquid, conflicted. As thirsty as I am, I know that drinking will only prolong my misery.
"What are you waiting for?"
He tips the nottle to my lips and I am unable to resist. I drink greedily, lapping up every drop. It feels amazing; cool and refreshing as it washes down my throat.
Once the bottle is empty, he lifts it away and nods with satisfaction.
"Good," he says. "Can't have you dehydrated for round two!"
With that he leaves, chuckling to himself.
I scold myself for giving in. How much more suffering has that moment of weakness bought me? How much longer do I have to hang here?
And how long before he returns for round two?
Surely the crowd will leave now, I tell myself. What else do I have left to give?
But already they are discussing what to do next. They loudly chatter about whether it might be possible to somehow fix the dildo inside me, or whether a larger one would offer even more fun.
And then the Host arrives.
I have no idea who he is. A wide-eyed, twitchy little man in a top hat, but some people seem to recognise him. He hurries around with a couple of assistants, moving people away from the crosses, setting up cameras, preparing equipment. He constructs some kind of display between me and the guy to my left, something like a big scoreboard, while his assistants set up a ladder behind me. I sense somebody climbing the ladder, then something is attached to the cross above me, although I can't tilt my head far enough to see what it is.
Eventually the Host fixes his attention directly upon me. He produces a can of spraypaint and sprays a crude number "1" on my chest, then pulls something else from his pocket: some kind of device, in the form of a small black box with a short strap. He fiddles with it for a moment, then reaches up and takes hold of my exposed balls. I struggle, but he makes no effort to hurt me; he simply attaches the device, gives me a cheeky wink, then moves to the guy on my left. He repeats the whole process, except with a number "2" sprayed on the guy's chest instead.
I still have no idea what to make of the situation.
Finally, the Host takes a microphone from one of his assistants, and signals the cameraman to begin.
"Hello!" he booms. "And welcome to another episode of Cross Wars! You regulars will already know the drill, but for anyone just tuning in, here's how it works. Our two lucky contestants-" he gestures in our direction "-are pitted against each other to see who can get the most points! Points are earned by triggering the sensor above their heads. They just need to push themselves up, and ding, they get a point! The longer they manage to hold themselves up per attempt, the more points they get. Yes, it really is that simple. And whoever has the most points after thirty minutes, wins!"
He pauses and taps his ear, pretending to focus on some imaginary earpiece. "Whats that, Jimmy? What if they dont want to play? Good question, Jimmy! Well, luckily we already have that covered. If anyone's lagging behind, you guys at home can simply activate that car battery hooked up to their balls!"
So that's what it is. I glance down at the thing attached to me, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever. I was powerless to defend myself before, but now I wont even see the attack coming. Somehow that's even worse. And on my balls no less, the most sensitive part if my body...
"That's right, folks," the Host continues. "If the scores arent even, its over to you, my lovely viewers." He leans in close to the camera and taps the lense for emphasis. "You should see plenty of options on your screen for some good old electricity-to-the-balls encouragement! You'll see the option to donate, too, which unlocks bigger shocks and other premium features. What are you waiting for?"
I turn my head towards my opponent, and for a moment we lock eyes, silently agreeing not to give these people the show they want. I'm certain we're both thinking the same thing: so long as we both stay on zero, we cant get shocked for falling behind.
...right?
The Host seems oblivious to our plan. "Ready...set...go!"
A Horn sounds, and the game has begun.
Nothing much happens for the first couple of minutes. My instinct to breathe - and my opponent's, too - grows stronger with each passing second, but neither of us move, not wanting to risk inadvertently tripping the sensor above our heads.
Another minute passes without movement, and another. The Host taps his mic impatiently, and sighs dramatically. "Looks like our players need some encouragement." He reaches into one of his pockets and produces a small handset. "This should do it!"
My heart sinks. I should have guessed he would have some kind of back-up plan. I glance down at the thing attached to me, then over to my rival. He's still clearly on the same wavelength: no matter how much it hurts, we've suffered worse already.
The host smiles wickedly. "Let's see how they do with ten percent."
No sooner has he finished speaking, a fiery pain erupts in my balls. My muscles tense, my spine arcs against the wood behind me, and my thighs clamp together defensively. I hear the guy next to me swear loudly.
Then the pain is gone, leaving us both gasping. But still, neither of us give in.
"Ooh, still a stalemate," the Host croons. "Lets try twenty percent. I wonder who will crack first? Place your bets folks!"
The next shock is noticeably worse, and the ache in my chest is fast approaching unbearable. But still I refuse to give in.
Im so focused on fighting my instinct to breathe that the noise from the cross next to me takes a moment to register.
Ding.
"And we're off!" cries the Host. "Number Two takes the lead!"
God damnit. I turn my head to fire a glare at my opponent, but he doesn't make eye contact. Already he is tensing to rise again.
Ding.
"Number two strengthens his lead! Still no movement from one, but I'm sure he'll have a change of heart soon enough. Remember, folks at home, if anyones lagging behind, its over to you!"
I silently hope that nobody is watching, but it's clear from the massive crowd that enough sick fuckers exist in the world for at least a handful to be watching online. And sure enough, I dont have to wait long until the first remote shock comes in. It takes me by surprise, causing me to wrench against my nails, a pain almost as bad as the shock itself.
"Fuck!" I gasp.
I carefully allow myself to go limp again, but thirty seconds later another shock rolls in, and another. Each burst sets my body dancing, increasing my need to breathe. I can't hold out much longer.
A quick glance at the scoreboard, and realize there's no longer anything to gain from fighting the pain in my chest. So long as I dont take the lead, I can continue to breathe without being a complete puppet for their entertainment.
I force my thigh muscles back into action, pushing myself up to suck in a single, deep breath.
Ding.
I quickly sink back down to avoid tripping the sensor again. Lungs gratefully filled, I pray I can hold on for a few more minutes before my instincts force me to even the scores.
Another ding from my opponent, and more electricty pours into my balls. The shock lasts longer this time, and grit my teeth, trying to ignore the resentment growing inside me. This is his fault, I think through the burning pain. He gave in so easily. He should be the one suffering.
Another shock, and another. My balls are now beginning to ache even when current isn't passing through them. I start to worry that the damage might be permanent, then remind myself that it doesnt matter. I wont be starting a family anytime soon. My genitals now exist purely as soft, sensitive targets for more pain.
Two more shocks come in quick succession and my resolve finally breaks. Fuck this, i think to myself. There might not be any biological reason to avoid the shocks, but they still fucking hurt. I decide it's time the other guy took some punishment.
I push myself up, determined to hold on as long as it takes to pull ahead.
Ding.
"Another point for number one! And he seems to be holding on for more..."
Ding.
Ding.
"And number one takes the lead!"
Muscles straining, I turn to glare at my opponent, to watch as justice is served. I smile as he convulses in pain, but I'm not done yet. I want to put as many points between me and this fucker as possible.
Ding. Ding.
Still I remain upright. But although my strength of will is somehow enough to overcome the screams of protest coming from my shattered heels, it's fast becoming clear that pain from my wounds isnt going to be my only problem. With my feet nailed as they are, it's impossible to straighten my legs enough to lock my knees. Instead, I have to rely entirely on my thigh muscles to remain upright. It's a gruelling position to hold, and already my legs are are shaking from the exertion. I know they won't last much longer...
Ding.
With a final shudder, my legs give out completely, dropping my weight hard onto the nails in my wrists. I cry out in pain and annoyance, then quickly try to push up again. But my legs need time to recover, time that i dont have. My opponent is already rising again, ready to retake the lead.
Ding...ding.
Almost immediately a shock comes in. I re-double my efforts to push, and somehow manage to force myself up...
Ding.
And so it continues. One of us fighting to regain the lead, the other enduring shocks as we wait for our legs to recover. Occassionally we pause to observe each other, but neither of us speak. Time moves slowly, punctuated only by pain and laughter from the crowd.
"We're on the home stretch now!" booms the Host suddenly. "Number two is in the lead with forty-two points, number one is trailing with forty. Just five minutes left!"
I hadn't realised the end was so near. Hope rises inside me. Is there a prize? Do we earn some kind of release from this hellish existence?
My opponent is clearly thinking the same thing. "what do we win?" he croaks.
"Respect!" beams the Host.
My heart sinks.
"The loser, on the other hand, gets to join me for round two!"
Round two? Fuck. I cant go through this a second time. I force my legs into action once more, determined to take the lead.
Ding..ding...
ding...ding...
"And number one takes a healthy lead!"
My thighs shudder, threatening to give out, and I allow myself to sink lower. I move slowly, allowing myself enough time to ease back down and avoid jarring the nails in my wrists. With the weight safely transferred, I turn to see how my opponent responds. Except he doesnt. I use the opportunity to drag myself up again, securing another two points. If I can just hold the lead for a few more minutes...
A few painful-sounding shocks later and my opponent finally comes to life, but he cant manage more than a single point at a time. I decide to wait until he evens the score, then hopefully my legs will have recovered enough for the final push for victory. I watch him carefully as he rises and falls, each time adding a single point to his score.
"Its neck and neck!" crows the host urgently. "One minute left!"
Its time to end this. I brace myself and push upwards with everything I have left.
Ding.
I hold my position, desperately trying to block out the screams of protest coming from every part of my body.
...ding...
I can do this-
Without warning, a blast if white-hot electricity cuts through me. It knocks my legs out from under me and sends me crashing back down, jarring my wrists agonisingly against the metal spikes. I howl through gritted teeth.
What the fuck? I was in the lead!
The Host claps his hands excitedly. "Ooh, that will be one of our top donators weighing in," he states. "Remember, donators can strike whoever and whenever they like! Looks like number two might have a chance after all."
Im annoyed but not defeated. I push again-
Only to have another shock pumped into my defenseless balls. I dont even manage to trigger the sensor before my attempt is ended.
"That's not fair!" I gasp, sparing a glance to my left. My opponent has apparently been allowed to continue his slow advance unhindered. I'm running out of time.
I push again, praying that whoever is shocking me has had enough. My prayers go unanswered.
"Fuck!" I howl as the electricty cuts into me. I fix my eyes on the cameras, desperate for mercy. "Please!"
But its too late. Before I can try again, another horn sounds, announcing that the competition is over.
"And we have a winner!" cries the Host. "Number two claims victory. Thanks for tuning in, folks at home. And remember, donators also have access to exclusove camera feeds and behind the scene footage, so be sure to check that out. See you next time!"
He signals to the cameraman to cut the feed.
"Christ, its hot". He hands his mic to an assistant then grabs a bottle of water, which he drinks thirstily. I eye the bottle jealously, and dont quite manage to look away in time when he notices. "Thirsty?" he asks mockingly.
I dont reply.
"You did good up there," he says, making a convincing effort to sound sincere.
"Fuck you," I reply.
"Now now," he says, wandering over. "Im being serious." He pats me on the thigh.
"I... I was winning."
"Take it as a compliment," he smiles. "Somebody really want to see you again!" He reaches between my legs and carefully deactivates the thing around my balls, but makes no effort to remove it.
I shake my head. "Please...no more."
The man shrugs. "The public wants what the public wants."
My eyes drop back to his water bottle. God, im thirsty. But even so, I can't bring myself to ask for charity.
The man follows my gaze. "Oh. This?" He smiles and offers it up to me. "Go on. Youve earned it."
I stare at the sparkling liquid, conflicted. As thirsty as I am, I know that drinking will only prolong my misery.
"What are you waiting for?"
He tips the nottle to my lips and I am unable to resist. I drink greedily, lapping up every drop. It feels amazing; cool and refreshing as it washes down my throat.
Once the bottle is empty, he lifts it away and nods with satisfaction.
"Good," he says. "Can't have you dehydrated for round two!"
With that he leaves, chuckling to himself.
I scold myself for giving in. How much more suffering has that moment of weakness bought me? How much longer do I have to hang here?
And how long before he returns for round two?
tygavin
Magistrate
Wow. That’s gotta sting.
CCG
Assistant executioner
Took a break from the forums for a bit to deal with the real world but couldn't resist the temptation to come back to read more of this delicious story. Thank you for posting more and I can't wait to read more of it.
About people, modern day torturing people on crosses, I keep thinking it wouldn't be possible but remind myself of a real life social experiment called "Rhythm Zero" where a woman blindfolded herself in public and told the public that for 6 hours or so they would be allowed to do whatever they like and she will not protest it. It starts out with innocent acts from the public but as time goes on, the crowd gets bolder and bolder with their actions. Eventually it gets so very violent (like someone held a gun to her temple and would have shot her). So I don't hold out hope that the same thing would happen, especially if the public were able to do it under the guise of being anonymous.
Also, the idea of making the crucifixion into a gameshow was a very fun concept. I could feel myself on the edge of my seat for the conclusion but I could almost tell that the protagonist in this story would have lost, if only just to add to the pain and humiliation on top of one of the worst ways to die in history.
About people, modern day torturing people on crosses, I keep thinking it wouldn't be possible but remind myself of a real life social experiment called "Rhythm Zero" where a woman blindfolded herself in public and told the public that for 6 hours or so they would be allowed to do whatever they like and she will not protest it. It starts out with innocent acts from the public but as time goes on, the crowd gets bolder and bolder with their actions. Eventually it gets so very violent (like someone held a gun to her temple and would have shot her). So I don't hold out hope that the same thing would happen, especially if the public were able to do it under the guise of being anonymous.
Also, the idea of making the crucifixion into a gameshow was a very fun concept. I could feel myself on the edge of my seat for the conclusion but I could almost tell that the protagonist in this story would have lost, if only just to add to the pain and humiliation on top of one of the worst ways to die in history.
Cruxfan23
Onlooker
I try to push the Host from my mind, but the torment he inflicted on me has left an indelible mark. I wonder where he has gone. No doubt he's cooling off somewhere, a cafe perhaps, with comfortable chairs and plenty of shade...probably even downing a drink or two, while I am left here to suffer in the beating sun. What I wouldn't give for another sip of water...
I'm distracted from my thoughts by a terrible cramp in my left thigh. Forced to keep my muscles in a state of near-constant exertion, the cramps are getting more and more painful each time they strike. Worse still, with my range of movement so limited, I have no real way of dealing with them.
Normally I would simply straighten my leg until the cramp subsided. But with my feet nailed pointing downwards, even pushing myself up to my full height doesn't allow for full extension. My ankles simple dont allow it. The only solution is push forward, thrusting my hips out and arcing my back away from the cross. In this position I can get my legs straight enough to lock my knees, although I'm painfully aware how ridiculous i must look doing so. Not to mention, with my genitals thrust forwards, im basically offering them up for more abuse. But I have no choice. I stretch myself out, and wait.
Thankfully, the cramp subsides before anyone manages to take advantage of me. I gratefully sink down, only to be compelled back into the endless rise and fall of survival. Even though I know every movement is building towards another episode of joint-wrenching agony, I have no option but to oblige.
And all the while, the sun continues its slow march across the sky, raining its burning rays down upon me. I spend a few minutes trying to find a position where my head is shaded from the worst of the heat, but its hopeless. I may as well be staring into a furnace.
A distant clock chimes midday, and I realise it's lunchtime. Not for me of course. Again I imagine the host, this time surrounded by piles of food. Plates upon plates of it, all paid for with sponsorships and donations, money earned at my expense...
God damnit.
At least the heat has caused the crowd to thin out a bit. There's still alot of activity around me, but I'm mostly left to suffer at my own pace, with only occassional attempts to jab my wounds or force things inside me. I'm getting better at controlling the pain, too. I find that with enough effort, I can wall myself off from it, pretend it's happening to somebody else. And if I focus especially hard, my mind can retreat to happier place, far from my body, soaring free from the crowds and the noise and the burning sun.
Unfortunately I'm never permitted to stay there for long. There's always something fighting to pull me back; some new ache that needs attention, some fresh jolt of agony, some stricken nerve choosing to remind that I am, in fact, still crucified. And pain is still just one part of the ordeal. Whenever I return to my body I'm forced to acknowledge the devastating cost of simply staying alive. My lungs need air, my muscles need rest, my throat needs water. I'm dripping with sweat and my very bones ache...but there is no end in sight. I have no option but to keep fighting, to continue my slow, humilating performance.
My dance of the cross.
Another powerful cramp grips my left arm, but I'm powerless to do anything about it. I simply continue to rise and fall, the same thing I've always done.
One o'clock. Still no sign of the Host, although I doubt he'll be much longer. I'm reminded of him every time I move, his device feeling heavy and unfamiliar between my legs. I try not to imagine what else he has planned.
A woman pauses to tie her shoelace in front of me, and I manage to get her attention.
"Please," I ask, gesturing downwards. "Can you...get this thing off?"
She looks appalled and hurries away, shoelace still untied.
So much for that plan. Perhaps I should have just begged for water instead, like the others are doing. Not that they're having much luck either, of course. But they try anyway.
The guy to my left, Number Two, is clearly feeling the heat more than most. Unlike me, he wasn't offered any water after his exertions, in spite of his victory. His cries are weak, desperate, and I suspect he doesnt have much fight left.
To my right, the tattooed guy has regained sone of his former composure. His voice is stronger, more assertive, but this only seems to strengthen the crowd's resolve not to help. He's currently trying to negotiate water from a pair of women as they amuse themselves with his balls, his serious tone at odds with the situation. But his attempts are cut short when he is struck by a fresh cramp of his own, and he cries out in pain. The women walk off, laughing.
The guy opposite, meanwhile, has continued to to endure the cross in almost complete silence. I remember how quiet he was when receiving his nails, and wonder how he manages it. Does he simply not feel the pain? Or is his strength of will truly so strong that he can ignore everthing being done to him? Whatever his secret, he seems content to calmly hang there and wait for the end.
I retreat back into my thoughts, and try to unlock this superhuman ability for myself. But the pain is too real, too constant...and even if I could block it out completely, there's still the myriad other emotions to deal with.
No, there is only one way to truly escape.
I pray it arrives soon.
I'm distracted from my thoughts by a terrible cramp in my left thigh. Forced to keep my muscles in a state of near-constant exertion, the cramps are getting more and more painful each time they strike. Worse still, with my range of movement so limited, I have no real way of dealing with them.
Normally I would simply straighten my leg until the cramp subsided. But with my feet nailed pointing downwards, even pushing myself up to my full height doesn't allow for full extension. My ankles simple dont allow it. The only solution is push forward, thrusting my hips out and arcing my back away from the cross. In this position I can get my legs straight enough to lock my knees, although I'm painfully aware how ridiculous i must look doing so. Not to mention, with my genitals thrust forwards, im basically offering them up for more abuse. But I have no choice. I stretch myself out, and wait.
Thankfully, the cramp subsides before anyone manages to take advantage of me. I gratefully sink down, only to be compelled back into the endless rise and fall of survival. Even though I know every movement is building towards another episode of joint-wrenching agony, I have no option but to oblige.
And all the while, the sun continues its slow march across the sky, raining its burning rays down upon me. I spend a few minutes trying to find a position where my head is shaded from the worst of the heat, but its hopeless. I may as well be staring into a furnace.
A distant clock chimes midday, and I realise it's lunchtime. Not for me of course. Again I imagine the host, this time surrounded by piles of food. Plates upon plates of it, all paid for with sponsorships and donations, money earned at my expense...
God damnit.
At least the heat has caused the crowd to thin out a bit. There's still alot of activity around me, but I'm mostly left to suffer at my own pace, with only occassional attempts to jab my wounds or force things inside me. I'm getting better at controlling the pain, too. I find that with enough effort, I can wall myself off from it, pretend it's happening to somebody else. And if I focus especially hard, my mind can retreat to happier place, far from my body, soaring free from the crowds and the noise and the burning sun.
Unfortunately I'm never permitted to stay there for long. There's always something fighting to pull me back; some new ache that needs attention, some fresh jolt of agony, some stricken nerve choosing to remind that I am, in fact, still crucified. And pain is still just one part of the ordeal. Whenever I return to my body I'm forced to acknowledge the devastating cost of simply staying alive. My lungs need air, my muscles need rest, my throat needs water. I'm dripping with sweat and my very bones ache...but there is no end in sight. I have no option but to keep fighting, to continue my slow, humilating performance.
My dance of the cross.
Another powerful cramp grips my left arm, but I'm powerless to do anything about it. I simply continue to rise and fall, the same thing I've always done.
One o'clock. Still no sign of the Host, although I doubt he'll be much longer. I'm reminded of him every time I move, his device feeling heavy and unfamiliar between my legs. I try not to imagine what else he has planned.
A woman pauses to tie her shoelace in front of me, and I manage to get her attention.
"Please," I ask, gesturing downwards. "Can you...get this thing off?"
She looks appalled and hurries away, shoelace still untied.
So much for that plan. Perhaps I should have just begged for water instead, like the others are doing. Not that they're having much luck either, of course. But they try anyway.
The guy to my left, Number Two, is clearly feeling the heat more than most. Unlike me, he wasn't offered any water after his exertions, in spite of his victory. His cries are weak, desperate, and I suspect he doesnt have much fight left.
To my right, the tattooed guy has regained sone of his former composure. His voice is stronger, more assertive, but this only seems to strengthen the crowd's resolve not to help. He's currently trying to negotiate water from a pair of women as they amuse themselves with his balls, his serious tone at odds with the situation. But his attempts are cut short when he is struck by a fresh cramp of his own, and he cries out in pain. The women walk off, laughing.
The guy opposite, meanwhile, has continued to to endure the cross in almost complete silence. I remember how quiet he was when receiving his nails, and wonder how he manages it. Does he simply not feel the pain? Or is his strength of will truly so strong that he can ignore everthing being done to him? Whatever his secret, he seems content to calmly hang there and wait for the end.
I retreat back into my thoughts, and try to unlock this superhuman ability for myself. But the pain is too real, too constant...and even if I could block it out completely, there's still the myriad other emotions to deal with.
No, there is only one way to truly escape.
I pray it arrives soon.
Cruxfan23
Onlooker
Finally, another hour or so later, the Host returns. He barely even glances in my direction before directing his assistants to get the equipment back online: the scoreboard, the cameras, the laptops. He then occupies himself with strange, new object, which from a distance looks like a crude block of wood. He brings it over to me, allowing me to get a better look. The thing is about the size of a housebrick, although there's a wide hole bored through it and some kind of large metal clamp on one end. He positions it between my legs, pushes upwards against my bodyweight, then fixes it into position. It seems to be some kind of seat. Nodding with satisfaction, he now turns his attention to a large black case on the ground to my left. He unlatches the front, causing the whole thing to fold open...and I feel sick when I see whats within.
Dildos. Dozens of them, all different shapes and sizes, neatly displayed in rows like some kind of portable showcase.
And just like that, the reason for the hole in my new seat becomes painfully clear.
The Host looks up at me and smiles, finally acknowledging my presence.
"See anything you like?" he asks.
"Please, no more."
"Hey, dont worry," he says reassuringly. "This round is nothing like the last one. Much less physical exertion!"
"I cant."
I mean it, too. My muscles are spent.
"Sure you can. Look, I know what the cross does to a guy. Honestly, anything more than a couple of hours up there and...well, to put it bluntly, your entertainment value drops off pretty quickly. But you got this."
"You dont understand..."
"Really?" He scoffs, looking genuinely offended. "You think i dont know what you're going through? It's my job to know. I know that your chest feels tight, that you can't breathe without pushing yourself up. I know that you can't straighten your legs properly. I know everything hurts, but you can't find a position that doesn't make the pain far worse in some other part of your body."
He positions himself infront of me and begins to fiddle with the thing on my balls. A green light comes on, and it bleeps.
"I know you're weak," he continues. And thirsty, and afraid. But I've watched plenty of men before you ride a cross into the great beyond, and I know this: you are far from done. So suck it up."
He flicks a switch on the side of my seat, causing another green light to shine between my legs.
"That's a motion sensor, if you're wondering. I'm sure you can figure out the rest. Oh, one last thing.."
He produces a bottle of lube, and applies a generous amount up through the seat-hole. "You'll thank me later."
I doubt it.
He spends the next few minutes with his assistants, discussing technical things and checking the laptop. His activity attracts fresh groups of curious onlookers, and the crowd begins to swell once more. Finally he seems ready.
"Right, lets get this show on the road!" He signals for an assistant to pass him a mic, then gestures to the camera guy. Three...two...one...
"Hello! And Welcome to another episode of Fuck or Fry! Yes, we're back, and we're joined once again by our new friend from this morning. Give us a wave, friend-"
He pauses expectantly, giving the new crowd time to laugh at this impossible request.
"Ah, too bad. Anyway. As usual, our contestant is lubed up and ready to party, but he's going to need some help. As you can see, we have a lovely collection of dildos here on display" - he gestures to the rack, smiling as the crowd goes "ooooh" - "but try as he might, our contestant just cant seem to reach them! And trust me, he definitely wants to reach them. 'Cos if that motion sensor between his legs isn't kept happy...ZAP! He's gonna feel it. And that's why we call it Fuck or Fry! So don't be shy folks! Come and lend a hand! Or not. The choice is yours. But either way, I guarantee the results will keep you entertained!"
Finished with the introduction, he hurries back over and snaps his fingers in front of my face. "You still in there? Good. A few changes you might be interested. Time limit between shocks is now five minutes, with a one-minute warning on the lowest setting. Round ends after ten minutes. That's ten minutes of being fucked, not ten minutes total. Got it? Oh, and You really don't want a shock this time. The others will seem like a tickle in comparison. So. Fuck or fry. Take a cock or get the shock. Got it?"
"But...how...?"
"Up to you. negotiate. Beg if you have to."
So that's it. Fuck or fry, indeed. Why is everybody so interested in my ass? Well, it stops here. I'm not begging to be fucked, no matter how much electricity they pump into me. Screw this guy and his stupid games.
Restless with anger, I adjust my position on the cross, only to discover that strain on my arms has eased up. The fucker has actually done me a favour, I realise. With most of my weight now resting on the crude fuck-seat and not the nails, he has inadvertantly granted some respite from the pain. I smile to myself.
Bring it on.
I spend the first four minutes in relative peace. The Host won't let anyone near me unless they're part of his game, and I quickly become numb to the oppressive chanting of "fuck or fry". Even the one-minute warning tingle does little to weaken my resolve. But with just thirty seconds left, an eerie quiet falls over the crowd. No longer do they look entertained, I realise. They look hungry.
My muscles tense in anticipation, and the first flickers of doubt begin to register in my mind. Just how much is this going to hurt? I look down at the device and think back to the shocks earlier. Sure, they were bad, especially towards the end, but I made it through. And besides, surely a few seconds of extra pain is a worthy trade off for this seat. Yes, my arms and wrists can attest to that.
How long now? Twenty seconds? Fifteen? I scold myself for losing track. But surely any second-
Pain erupts in my testicles, pain beyond anything I could have imagined. Pain beyond even the nailing. It courses through me, a terrible, crushing agony that spreads to my torso, my kidneys, my stomach. It knocks the air from my lungs and clamps my jaw shut. My body instincitvely pulls inwards to protect itself, but my limbs have no hope of complying, pinned as they are. The convulsive movement only serves to grind my raw nerves against the metal spikes holding me in place, sending a second wave of fresh agony surging through me. My stomache heaves, threatening to empty itself...but suddenly the pain is gone, leaving as abruptly as it arrived.
I hang limply for a moment, trying deperately to breathe, but my lungs dont seem to be working. The same is true of my arms and legs. I might have even lost control of my bladder at some point, although I'm not sure.
"Fuck," i eventually manage to croak. "Fuuck."
The crowds reaction my strangled voice is immediate. Having somehow remained silent throughout, the explosion of sound and movement is all the more deafening: cheers, applause, chanting, whistles.
"Having second thoughts?" sneers my tormentor, somehow managing to make himself heard over the din.
"Go to hell."
I turn my attention back to the thing on my balls, and briefly entertain trying to get it off. I wriggle from side to side as best i can, work it between my thighs, scrape it against the wooden seat, but no good. The only way to remove it would be to literally rip my balls off, and even that i cant manage without my hands.
No, There's only one option to avoid another shock. Exactly as intended. I can practically feel my tormentor grinning triumphantly beside me. Filled with disgust at the words i am about to utter, I close my eyes.
"Please, fuck me." I say it quietly, barely above a whisper, still uncertain whether I actually want anyone to hear.
"What was that?" jeers somebody in the crowd.
"Speak up a bit," another voice cries.
"Please." I say it louder this time, with more conviction, but cant bring myself to finish the sentence.
"Please what?" somebody laughs.
I glance pleadingly down at my tormentor, but he shakes his head, smiling a sickening smile while tapping his wristwatch emphatically.
"Please!" I cry out once more, desperation creeping into my voice. But it's no good, the crowd is unyeilding in its desire to see me shocked again.
I beg for the attention of a woman with a briefcase as she fights through the mass of onlookers. She ignores me, as do the three guys that follow her, and the woman walking her dog.
"Somebody..."
A pair of girls appear in front of me, pointing and giggling, only to disappear back into the crowd moments later.
I feel the warning tingle and realise i only have one minute left. Desperation sets in.
"Fuck me! Please, somebody!" Theres no shortage of people nearby, surely at least one of them has some spark of empathy within?
I scan the crowd one last time and my eyes fall on a guy in a hoodie, standing with his back to me. I call out again, directing ny voice towards him.
"Please!"
To my surprise he reacts, begins to turn...but only too late do i realise that i recognise him. And from the look of startled bemusement on his face, he recognises me too.
"Holy shit," Matt says, making his way over. "It's true. I didnt think... i mean, i heard, but....wow."
"Please," I say again, too ashamed to state my request in full. "Help me." I pray he can figure out the specifics himself, but its a mistake that costs me precious seconds.
"Man, I can't get you down," he says. "You know what the punishment is."
"No." I shake my head desperately. "Please..."
He stares at me in confusion. "Please what?"
I can't afford to wait any longer. Unwilling to maintain eye contact, I lower my eyes to the ground in shame, and prepare to utter that awful phrase. My voice, when it comes, is broken, barely above a whisper.
"Fuck me"
His response is immediate. "What? No way man, im not into that." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Why would you-"
"Please," I utter for the thousandth time. "If you don't, they hurt me..."
His eyes follow my own down to the cruel thing on my balls, now flashing red. "Oh." He looks uncertainly between me and the dildo rack, finally understanding. "Which one?"
"Any, just please hurry."
After a moments thought, he selects an masculine-looking blue one from the second shelf down, then looks back up at me for reassurance. "This one?"
I nod urgently, desperate to avoid the impending shock.
"Okay."
It's half the size of the monstrous thing forced inside me earlier, but still not small by any means, and I can't help but wince as it slides in.
"Ungh."
My body tenses, and Matt pauses his movements to look up at me, concern etched onto his face. He's trying to be gentle, I realise. I stare into his eyes and feel a surge of unexpected emotions: gratitude, that he should care, but also overwhelming relief: so long as he is here, he is sparing me from a much worse torment. I'm safe. For now at least. I push past the ache in my bowels to utter words i never thought i would In such a situation.
"Thank you..."
"Yeah. Umm. Dont mention it. Just don't, like, shit on me, okay?"
I nod.
His arm begins to move once more, and the dull ache spreads further up through my torso. I feel the shaft being driven all the way up to my gut, then the pain recedes as it is eased out again.
It takes him a few thrusts to find his rhythym, and I try my best to remain quiet as he works, to not put him off his stride. Still, after a minute or so, a particularly deep thrust catches me off guard, and an involuntary groan escapes my lips.
The crowd cheers in approval, and Matt glances up at me once more.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I lie.
Matt frowns, as if a thought has suddenly occured to him. "So, umm. How long do i have to..?"
"Ten minutes," I say quietly. I'm terrified that he wont like the answer, that he might leave, but he simply shrugs and keeps going. I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. This might not be so awful after all.
Christ, how my perspective has changed. Here I am, naked, helpless, sentenced to die with nails through my flesh, and I'm grateful that someone is fucking me in the ass. But it's true. Even the nail wounds dont seem quite so painful any more. I flex my arm muscles, once again grateful to have the fuck-seat supporting most of my weight. It almost makes things bearable.
And better yet, with my ribcage no longer pulled taught under my own weight, my chest is free to move on its own. I quickly take full advantage of this new discovery, sucking in lungful after wonderful lungful of cool, refreshing air. God it feels good. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like just to breathe normally, without having to struggle for every gasp.
Unfortunately for me, my body takes the rush of oxygen as a sign that the fight is over. A wave of fatigue comes crashing down as my tortured muscles enter recovery mode, and my eyelids grow heavy. I briefly try to resist, knowing that any kind rest will only prolong my suffering, but its no more than a halfhearted effort. Already my eyes are closed. My thoughts slow and my mind begins to wander, conjuring tempting images of distant shores, comfortable beds, beautiful women. Soon I'm barely aware of Matt's movements, each thrust serving only to remind me that I'm safe, at least for a few more minutes...
Then, one again, I feel my cock begin to stir. With my mind so distant, this doesnt seem like a problem at first. Quite the opposite in fact. Moments later though, reality begins to catch up, and panic sets in. Curse this body! I divert all thoughts to stopping the erection, even pulling on the nails in my wrists in the vain hope that the pain will work as a distraction, but its too late.
Matt has noticed.
"What the fuck man?" He immediately pulls out and steps back, his face a potent mix of anger and disgust. The crowd sees it too, and breaks into fresh waves of jeers and boos.
"Hes enjoying it! somebody shouts.
"I can't help it," I plead weakly. "Please...don't stop."
Matt shakes his head. He isn't having any of it. "Listen man, I got places to be. Sorry." With that, he throws the dildo down and hurries away.
Tears sting my eyes as I beg him to return, but it's no use. He's gone.
And to make things worse, the host is back to rub my face in it.
"Wow", he breathes. "Ladies and gentlemen. Such a tender moment...ruined by a raging boner. Im sure we've all been there, right?" He pauses for laughter. "Such a shame. Three minutes, if anyones wondering. Not even halfway. "
God, its so unfair! I try to wipe my streaming eyes on my shoulder, but it's an awkward and difficult manoeuvre that only serves to make things worse. What I really need is my hand.
Fuck these nails. Fuck this cross.
Fuck everything.
Dildos. Dozens of them, all different shapes and sizes, neatly displayed in rows like some kind of portable showcase.
And just like that, the reason for the hole in my new seat becomes painfully clear.
The Host looks up at me and smiles, finally acknowledging my presence.
"See anything you like?" he asks.
"Please, no more."
"Hey, dont worry," he says reassuringly. "This round is nothing like the last one. Much less physical exertion!"
"I cant."
I mean it, too. My muscles are spent.
"Sure you can. Look, I know what the cross does to a guy. Honestly, anything more than a couple of hours up there and...well, to put it bluntly, your entertainment value drops off pretty quickly. But you got this."
"You dont understand..."
"Really?" He scoffs, looking genuinely offended. "You think i dont know what you're going through? It's my job to know. I know that your chest feels tight, that you can't breathe without pushing yourself up. I know that you can't straighten your legs properly. I know everything hurts, but you can't find a position that doesn't make the pain far worse in some other part of your body."
He positions himself infront of me and begins to fiddle with the thing on my balls. A green light comes on, and it bleeps.
"I know you're weak," he continues. And thirsty, and afraid. But I've watched plenty of men before you ride a cross into the great beyond, and I know this: you are far from done. So suck it up."
He flicks a switch on the side of my seat, causing another green light to shine between my legs.
"That's a motion sensor, if you're wondering. I'm sure you can figure out the rest. Oh, one last thing.."
He produces a bottle of lube, and applies a generous amount up through the seat-hole. "You'll thank me later."
I doubt it.
He spends the next few minutes with his assistants, discussing technical things and checking the laptop. His activity attracts fresh groups of curious onlookers, and the crowd begins to swell once more. Finally he seems ready.
"Right, lets get this show on the road!" He signals for an assistant to pass him a mic, then gestures to the camera guy. Three...two...one...
"Hello! And Welcome to another episode of Fuck or Fry! Yes, we're back, and we're joined once again by our new friend from this morning. Give us a wave, friend-"
He pauses expectantly, giving the new crowd time to laugh at this impossible request.
"Ah, too bad. Anyway. As usual, our contestant is lubed up and ready to party, but he's going to need some help. As you can see, we have a lovely collection of dildos here on display" - he gestures to the rack, smiling as the crowd goes "ooooh" - "but try as he might, our contestant just cant seem to reach them! And trust me, he definitely wants to reach them. 'Cos if that motion sensor between his legs isn't kept happy...ZAP! He's gonna feel it. And that's why we call it Fuck or Fry! So don't be shy folks! Come and lend a hand! Or not. The choice is yours. But either way, I guarantee the results will keep you entertained!"
Finished with the introduction, he hurries back over and snaps his fingers in front of my face. "You still in there? Good. A few changes you might be interested. Time limit between shocks is now five minutes, with a one-minute warning on the lowest setting. Round ends after ten minutes. That's ten minutes of being fucked, not ten minutes total. Got it? Oh, and You really don't want a shock this time. The others will seem like a tickle in comparison. So. Fuck or fry. Take a cock or get the shock. Got it?"
"But...how...?"
"Up to you. negotiate. Beg if you have to."
So that's it. Fuck or fry, indeed. Why is everybody so interested in my ass? Well, it stops here. I'm not begging to be fucked, no matter how much electricity they pump into me. Screw this guy and his stupid games.
Restless with anger, I adjust my position on the cross, only to discover that strain on my arms has eased up. The fucker has actually done me a favour, I realise. With most of my weight now resting on the crude fuck-seat and not the nails, he has inadvertantly granted some respite from the pain. I smile to myself.
Bring it on.
I spend the first four minutes in relative peace. The Host won't let anyone near me unless they're part of his game, and I quickly become numb to the oppressive chanting of "fuck or fry". Even the one-minute warning tingle does little to weaken my resolve. But with just thirty seconds left, an eerie quiet falls over the crowd. No longer do they look entertained, I realise. They look hungry.
My muscles tense in anticipation, and the first flickers of doubt begin to register in my mind. Just how much is this going to hurt? I look down at the device and think back to the shocks earlier. Sure, they were bad, especially towards the end, but I made it through. And besides, surely a few seconds of extra pain is a worthy trade off for this seat. Yes, my arms and wrists can attest to that.
How long now? Twenty seconds? Fifteen? I scold myself for losing track. But surely any second-
Pain erupts in my testicles, pain beyond anything I could have imagined. Pain beyond even the nailing. It courses through me, a terrible, crushing agony that spreads to my torso, my kidneys, my stomach. It knocks the air from my lungs and clamps my jaw shut. My body instincitvely pulls inwards to protect itself, but my limbs have no hope of complying, pinned as they are. The convulsive movement only serves to grind my raw nerves against the metal spikes holding me in place, sending a second wave of fresh agony surging through me. My stomache heaves, threatening to empty itself...but suddenly the pain is gone, leaving as abruptly as it arrived.
I hang limply for a moment, trying deperately to breathe, but my lungs dont seem to be working. The same is true of my arms and legs. I might have even lost control of my bladder at some point, although I'm not sure.
"Fuck," i eventually manage to croak. "Fuuck."
The crowds reaction my strangled voice is immediate. Having somehow remained silent throughout, the explosion of sound and movement is all the more deafening: cheers, applause, chanting, whistles.
"Having second thoughts?" sneers my tormentor, somehow managing to make himself heard over the din.
"Go to hell."
I turn my attention back to the thing on my balls, and briefly entertain trying to get it off. I wriggle from side to side as best i can, work it between my thighs, scrape it against the wooden seat, but no good. The only way to remove it would be to literally rip my balls off, and even that i cant manage without my hands.
No, There's only one option to avoid another shock. Exactly as intended. I can practically feel my tormentor grinning triumphantly beside me. Filled with disgust at the words i am about to utter, I close my eyes.
"Please, fuck me." I say it quietly, barely above a whisper, still uncertain whether I actually want anyone to hear.
"What was that?" jeers somebody in the crowd.
"Speak up a bit," another voice cries.
"Please." I say it louder this time, with more conviction, but cant bring myself to finish the sentence.
"Please what?" somebody laughs.
I glance pleadingly down at my tormentor, but he shakes his head, smiling a sickening smile while tapping his wristwatch emphatically.
"Please!" I cry out once more, desperation creeping into my voice. But it's no good, the crowd is unyeilding in its desire to see me shocked again.
I beg for the attention of a woman with a briefcase as she fights through the mass of onlookers. She ignores me, as do the three guys that follow her, and the woman walking her dog.
"Somebody..."
A pair of girls appear in front of me, pointing and giggling, only to disappear back into the crowd moments later.
I feel the warning tingle and realise i only have one minute left. Desperation sets in.
"Fuck me! Please, somebody!" Theres no shortage of people nearby, surely at least one of them has some spark of empathy within?
I scan the crowd one last time and my eyes fall on a guy in a hoodie, standing with his back to me. I call out again, directing ny voice towards him.
"Please!"
To my surprise he reacts, begins to turn...but only too late do i realise that i recognise him. And from the look of startled bemusement on his face, he recognises me too.
"Holy shit," Matt says, making his way over. "It's true. I didnt think... i mean, i heard, but....wow."
"Please," I say again, too ashamed to state my request in full. "Help me." I pray he can figure out the specifics himself, but its a mistake that costs me precious seconds.
"Man, I can't get you down," he says. "You know what the punishment is."
"No." I shake my head desperately. "Please..."
He stares at me in confusion. "Please what?"
I can't afford to wait any longer. Unwilling to maintain eye contact, I lower my eyes to the ground in shame, and prepare to utter that awful phrase. My voice, when it comes, is broken, barely above a whisper.
"Fuck me"
His response is immediate. "What? No way man, im not into that." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Why would you-"
"Please," I utter for the thousandth time. "If you don't, they hurt me..."
His eyes follow my own down to the cruel thing on my balls, now flashing red. "Oh." He looks uncertainly between me and the dildo rack, finally understanding. "Which one?"
"Any, just please hurry."
After a moments thought, he selects an masculine-looking blue one from the second shelf down, then looks back up at me for reassurance. "This one?"
I nod urgently, desperate to avoid the impending shock.
"Okay."
It's half the size of the monstrous thing forced inside me earlier, but still not small by any means, and I can't help but wince as it slides in.
"Ungh."
My body tenses, and Matt pauses his movements to look up at me, concern etched onto his face. He's trying to be gentle, I realise. I stare into his eyes and feel a surge of unexpected emotions: gratitude, that he should care, but also overwhelming relief: so long as he is here, he is sparing me from a much worse torment. I'm safe. For now at least. I push past the ache in my bowels to utter words i never thought i would In such a situation.
"Thank you..."
"Yeah. Umm. Dont mention it. Just don't, like, shit on me, okay?"
I nod.
His arm begins to move once more, and the dull ache spreads further up through my torso. I feel the shaft being driven all the way up to my gut, then the pain recedes as it is eased out again.
It takes him a few thrusts to find his rhythym, and I try my best to remain quiet as he works, to not put him off his stride. Still, after a minute or so, a particularly deep thrust catches me off guard, and an involuntary groan escapes my lips.
The crowd cheers in approval, and Matt glances up at me once more.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I lie.
Matt frowns, as if a thought has suddenly occured to him. "So, umm. How long do i have to..?"
"Ten minutes," I say quietly. I'm terrified that he wont like the answer, that he might leave, but he simply shrugs and keeps going. I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. This might not be so awful after all.
Christ, how my perspective has changed. Here I am, naked, helpless, sentenced to die with nails through my flesh, and I'm grateful that someone is fucking me in the ass. But it's true. Even the nail wounds dont seem quite so painful any more. I flex my arm muscles, once again grateful to have the fuck-seat supporting most of my weight. It almost makes things bearable.
And better yet, with my ribcage no longer pulled taught under my own weight, my chest is free to move on its own. I quickly take full advantage of this new discovery, sucking in lungful after wonderful lungful of cool, refreshing air. God it feels good. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like just to breathe normally, without having to struggle for every gasp.
Unfortunately for me, my body takes the rush of oxygen as a sign that the fight is over. A wave of fatigue comes crashing down as my tortured muscles enter recovery mode, and my eyelids grow heavy. I briefly try to resist, knowing that any kind rest will only prolong my suffering, but its no more than a halfhearted effort. Already my eyes are closed. My thoughts slow and my mind begins to wander, conjuring tempting images of distant shores, comfortable beds, beautiful women. Soon I'm barely aware of Matt's movements, each thrust serving only to remind me that I'm safe, at least for a few more minutes...
Then, one again, I feel my cock begin to stir. With my mind so distant, this doesnt seem like a problem at first. Quite the opposite in fact. Moments later though, reality begins to catch up, and panic sets in. Curse this body! I divert all thoughts to stopping the erection, even pulling on the nails in my wrists in the vain hope that the pain will work as a distraction, but its too late.
Matt has noticed.
"What the fuck man?" He immediately pulls out and steps back, his face a potent mix of anger and disgust. The crowd sees it too, and breaks into fresh waves of jeers and boos.
"Hes enjoying it! somebody shouts.
"I can't help it," I plead weakly. "Please...don't stop."
Matt shakes his head. He isn't having any of it. "Listen man, I got places to be. Sorry." With that, he throws the dildo down and hurries away.
Tears sting my eyes as I beg him to return, but it's no use. He's gone.
And to make things worse, the host is back to rub my face in it.
"Wow", he breathes. "Ladies and gentlemen. Such a tender moment...ruined by a raging boner. Im sure we've all been there, right?" He pauses for laughter. "Such a shame. Three minutes, if anyones wondering. Not even halfway. "
God, its so unfair! I try to wipe my streaming eyes on my shoulder, but it's an awkward and difficult manoeuvre that only serves to make things worse. What I really need is my hand.
Fuck these nails. Fuck this cross.
Fuck everything.
Cruxfan23
Onlooker
My tears worsen and I let out a a howl of frustration. There's no way I can find someone else in time to avoid another shock, let alone make it to ten minutes.
And yet, already I can sense fresh movement nearby. I look up to see a small group of five or so newcomers loudly jostling to the front of the crowd. They're all young males, late teens or early twenties, frat boys perhaps, dressed in a mixture of hoodies, jeans and sportswear. They seem in the midst of a playful disagreement, pushing each other, pointing at me, laughing.
I can't imagine any group of people I would less want near my genitals.
But I dont have a choice. I brace myself, preparing to speak-
But before I can even open my mouth, one of the group is pushed forwards by the others.
"Aaw c'mon," he protests. "Why me?"
The others just laugh.
"Fine." He walks to the dildo rack, looking annoyed but not altogether upset. "Which one?"
His mates call out suggestions, but he takes his time.
I glance down just in time to see the light between my legs turn red. "Please," I call urgently.
"Hey, dont rush me."
He eventually makes his choice, a reasonably sized replica penis that would be quite convincing if it wasn't coloured bright green. He holds it up for his friends to see, flopping it comically from side to side as they cheer him on.
"Go on, do it!" one of them cries.
I adjust myself anxiously as he moves into position. He looks up at me, a wide grin on his face.
"Which way does it go in?"
Whats he talking about?
"Please," I repeat, painfully aware of the red light.
"I dont want to put it in the wrong way."
"Hurry..."
"But i don't..."
He moves his arm, seemingly to insert the dildo, but then slaps it lengthways against the base of my seat.
"It won't fit," the guy says, feigning stupidity. His friends are in hysterics.
"Come on, please!"
But its too late. The current tears through me once more, and I only just manage to avoid passing out.
Eventually the pain subsides. I catch my breath, then force my eyes back open to glare down at my tormentor. He's still staring up at me, still smiling that sick smile, while behind him, his friends are creased over with laughter.
"Sorry," he grins. "Guess I was too slow." He pats me apologetically on the thigh, then turns to leave.
His mates, however, aren't ready to let him off the hook just yet. They push him back towards me. "Do it," they shout. "Do it!" Their words become a chant, and the rest if the crowd quickly joins in.
"Do it...do it...do it!"
The guy looks bewildered, tries to protest, but there's clearly no way out. With a defeated shrug, he turns towards me once more.
I watch him fumble with the seat, hear the sensor ping as it detects movement...and feel the tip of the dildo as it jabs against my asshole.
Safe for a couple more minutes, i think to myself.
Then, without warning, the dildo is rammed deep inside me. I gasp as my organs struggle to accomodate the violent intrusion, clamp my eys shut, wait for the pain to ease...
Except it doesnt. The guy simply lets go, leaving the thing jammed inside me. He returns to his friends, fistbumping and laughing, pausing occasionally to grin over his shoulder at me. The thing is still inside as they disappear back into the crowd.
"Well," coos the host. "This in an interesting development. I wonder how long he can hold it in?"
His words take a minute to register. Why would I want to hold it in? Already I can feel my body forcing it out-
Then it hits me, and I immediately clamp my muscles to hold it in place.
So long as it's inside me, it's blocking the sensor. And that means I'm safe from the shocks.
To my dismay, it quickly becomes clear that this isn't a battle I can hope to win. My hole is slick with lube, and the dildo is smooth and reasonably heavy. At best I can simply slow its exit, not prevent it entirely.
But I resolve to hold on as long as i can.
I deny every urge to move, every instinct to adjust my body. I hang perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe...but still I can feel the dildo slowly easing its way out. Gradually there is less and less for my body to hold on to, and finally it drops free. It catches my ankle as it falls, one last painful insult, and the crowd cheers as it hits the ground. I close my eyes in dismay.
"Two minutes!" the Host announces. "Five total. Half way there!"
I feel hatred for the Host unlike anything I have felt before. "Fuck you," I shout for what seems like the thousandth time.
"Now now," he chides. "You mustn't waste precious energy insulting me."
"Just let me die."
"Aaw, dont be like that." He turns to the crowd. "I think our friend here needs cheering up!" he booms. "Any volunteers? Yes, you there!"
He plucks man from the crowd, seemingly at random, and steers him towards me. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir," he says apologetically. "But our friend here has something to ask you."
The man stares up at me expectantly.
"Fuck me..." I mutter, refusing to make eye contact.
"Say again?"
"Please fuck me."
"You want to be fucked?"
"Yes."
The man pauses, strokes his chin thoughtfully. "See, I just don't believe you."
Confused, I raised my eyes.
"I asked-"
"Yes, I heard you. You're saying that you want to be fucked. But i just ain't buying it. Perhaps if you phrased it differently..."
Exasperated, I glance at the host. He's clearly enjoying every second of this exchange.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Well, maybe if you told me exactly what you wanted," says the man. "All polite, like."
I sigh, finally catching on. "Please, sir", I utter as calmy as I can. "I really want..."
"A cock?"
"Yes," I grimace. "I really want a cock inside me."
I dont like where this is going, but I have no choice but to play along.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, which one would you-"
"I dont care."
"Really," he muses. "Surely someone in your position has some kind of preference?"
"A small one."
"Oh," he says, sounding disappointed. "Don't you want to feel it?"
"No."
"So whats the point?"
"Please..."
"I don't think you're taking this seriously."
"Fine, a big one."
"That's more like it."
The man selects a pair of dildos off the rack and offers them up for me to see. "Which one?"
I stare at the two rubbery abominations in horror. Both are enormous; he's clearly chosen the largest ones on offer. One is long and curved, the other slightly shorter but with segmented bumps along its shaft. I don't want either. But I also don't want another shock.
"That one," I say, nodding towards the bumpy one.
"Okay then." He replaces the curved one, then carefully guides my chosen implement into position. I hear the now-familiar ding from between my legs, and brace myself for the insertion.
The tip goes in with surprising ease. I briefly wonder if it might not be so bad, that perhaps my hole has now been stretched enough to accomodate...but then the next segment goes in, and the next, and the next. It seems to go on forever, forcing me further apart with each movement. I grit my teeth as the assault continues.
Finally satisfied that it's gone far enough inside, the man begins to ease it out. The pain begins to subside, but all too soon it returns as the second thrust begins.
"How you doing?"
"Fine," I lie.
"Should I go faster?"
"No."
He pauses. "I really think I should." The implication is clear.
"Please, sir. Go Faster."
"If you insist."
His thrusting picks up speed.
"You know, Im not even using the full shaft. Should I go deeper?"
"Whatever."
"What was that?"
"Please sir, go deeper."
And so it continues, the man prompting me every so often to ask for faster, or harder, or deeper. The pain is now so great that I am thankfully spared another humilating erection, although at this point, I would almost be glad of the distraction anyway.
After what feels like an eternity, the thrusting finally begins to subside. "You know what?" the man muses. "I'm starting to think this one might not be big enough, after all. What do you think?"
I blink in surprise. Bigger!? I was certain the two he offered me were the largest on offer. I glance down at the stand, and sure enough, there are some even greater in length and width. I'm uncertain how to proceed. Clearly if I say no, the man will stop. But theres no way my body can accomodate anything larger.
"Well?"
"No, sir."
Now its the man's turn to look surprised. "No?"
"Please, I can't."
"That's "please I cant, sir," he adds with emphasis. "And I think you can." He abruptly pulls out and switches up to an even larger one. Its truly monstrous; long, thick and veiny. He returns to my side and methodically prepares to slide the thing up through the seat. But before he can get it in, I twist my hips awkwardly to the side so that the insertion hole no longer lines up with my own.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't..." I grunt, straining to maintain the difficult position.
"Yes you can."
"I dont want to."
He struggles a moment longer, then calmly straightens up. "Well, its your choice," he states, stepping backwards. "I suppose it will be just as much watching you fry." With that, he tosses the dildo back to the Host, folds his arms, and waits.
The following two minutes are almost as unbearable as the fucking. I know what's coming, but I'm powerless to prevent it. And all the time this man remains calmly in front of me, watching, waiting...
I feel the warning tingle, see the red light come on...and finally the pain arrives. I stubbornly try not to move, to deny these people the pleasure they seek, but i'm powerless to resist. The air is knocked from lungs, my muscles wrench against the nails, and my body dances as the electricity cuts through it.
Eventually the device resets, granting me another five-minute respite. The man leaves, satisfied that I have suffered enough, and the Host begins his cruel summary.
"Three minutes!" he cries. "And who would have thought our friend here would so eagerly embrace his submissive side?"
Once I've caught my breath, I direct my anger towards the man responsible for my torment. "What is your problem!?"
The Host ignores me, now joking with a couple of women.
"Seriously," I continue. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
Still nothing.
"You got a crush on me or something?"
That gets his attention. He clicks his mic off and turns to face me. But something's wrong. He's smiling.
I try again. "You're getting off on this, arent you?"
The Host smiles even wider, as though savouring some big, delicious secret. "She warned me you'd get like this," he says calmy. "That you seem nice at first, but secretly, deep down, you're just a huge asshole."
I feel like he's hinting towards something, but I have no idea what it is. I search his face for clues as he strolls casually towards me.
"I bet that's why she chose this game for you," he continues. "It's almost poetic."
I frown at him in confusion, still failing to grasp what he's getting at.
"Of course, she wanted to cut your balls off, too," he states. "I told her no. No amputations." He grins, and drops his eyes to between my legs. "Besides, it's much more fun when they're still attached."
"I dont understand."
He rolls his eyes, impatient that I haven't caught on. "Your ex," he states. "She put me up to this."
My ex? Christ. Memories of some distant, previous life come flooding back. I was a person once, I remember. An actual person. With hopes, and dreams, and relationships...
"Dont worry," he says quickly. "She's not here. But she is watching."
I stare at the cameras in horror, imagining her eyes fixed upon me. "Why...?" I manage to ask.
The man shrugs. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he recites. "But it's been a hell of ride. Or should I say, she's a hell of a ride." He smiles proudly, watching my expression change as the pieces fall into place. I feel sick to my stomach.
"No..."
"'Fraid so," he grins. "We matched a few weeks back. Said she was a big fan of the show, told me her ex was on trial for-"
He pauses for a moment, lost in thought.
"You know, I'm pretty sure she set you up. Probably even slipped the judge a few bucks, if I'm honest. All that money went somewhere."
I dont know how to process this information. It's too much.
But the Host continues to twist the knife. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm almost certain she's just taking advantage of me. Soon as you're gone, I'll be out of the picture."
Why is this man still talking? "Please," I beg. "Tell someone. The guards, the police... Help me-"
"Help you?" The man looks incredulous. "Why would i do that? Do you have any idea what that would do to my reputation? To my ad revenue?"
"Please-"
"Nah, I'm good. And you know the best part? Tonight, while you're still hanging here, all by yourself-" he leans in close, drops his voice to a whisper "-im gonna be fucking her. Over, and over, and over."
A thousand emotions explode inside me. I want to reach out, strangle him, punch him in the face...force him to see reason-
But I cant. All i can do is struggle hopelessly against my bonds, howling with desperation and rage and pain.
The host steps back and clicks his mic back on, pleased with my reaction. "Oh-ho!" he crows loudly. "Silly me. I might have just let slip that I'm nailing his ex! The good kind of nailing, too," he shouts over the cheers and laughter. "Not the kind he's into. Although both involve being naked. Funny that." More laughter.
I feel utterly broken. The knowledge that I've been set up, that I've done nothing to deserve this awful punishment...that my tormentor isn't just working for my ex, he's literally sleeping with her...
I know the timer is running out, but I don't care any more. I no longer care about the Host, or the crowd, or the noise around me. I don't care when the red light comes on, or when the device unleashes its devastating payload. I don't even care when the pain finally becomes too great, and darkness comes crashing down upon me once more.
And yet, already I can sense fresh movement nearby. I look up to see a small group of five or so newcomers loudly jostling to the front of the crowd. They're all young males, late teens or early twenties, frat boys perhaps, dressed in a mixture of hoodies, jeans and sportswear. They seem in the midst of a playful disagreement, pushing each other, pointing at me, laughing.
I can't imagine any group of people I would less want near my genitals.
But I dont have a choice. I brace myself, preparing to speak-
But before I can even open my mouth, one of the group is pushed forwards by the others.
"Aaw c'mon," he protests. "Why me?"
The others just laugh.
"Fine." He walks to the dildo rack, looking annoyed but not altogether upset. "Which one?"
His mates call out suggestions, but he takes his time.
I glance down just in time to see the light between my legs turn red. "Please," I call urgently.
"Hey, dont rush me."
He eventually makes his choice, a reasonably sized replica penis that would be quite convincing if it wasn't coloured bright green. He holds it up for his friends to see, flopping it comically from side to side as they cheer him on.
"Go on, do it!" one of them cries.
I adjust myself anxiously as he moves into position. He looks up at me, a wide grin on his face.
"Which way does it go in?"
Whats he talking about?
"Please," I repeat, painfully aware of the red light.
"I dont want to put it in the wrong way."
"Hurry..."
"But i don't..."
He moves his arm, seemingly to insert the dildo, but then slaps it lengthways against the base of my seat.
"It won't fit," the guy says, feigning stupidity. His friends are in hysterics.
"Come on, please!"
But its too late. The current tears through me once more, and I only just manage to avoid passing out.
Eventually the pain subsides. I catch my breath, then force my eyes back open to glare down at my tormentor. He's still staring up at me, still smiling that sick smile, while behind him, his friends are creased over with laughter.
"Sorry," he grins. "Guess I was too slow." He pats me apologetically on the thigh, then turns to leave.
His mates, however, aren't ready to let him off the hook just yet. They push him back towards me. "Do it," they shout. "Do it!" Their words become a chant, and the rest if the crowd quickly joins in.
"Do it...do it...do it!"
The guy looks bewildered, tries to protest, but there's clearly no way out. With a defeated shrug, he turns towards me once more.
I watch him fumble with the seat, hear the sensor ping as it detects movement...and feel the tip of the dildo as it jabs against my asshole.
Safe for a couple more minutes, i think to myself.
Then, without warning, the dildo is rammed deep inside me. I gasp as my organs struggle to accomodate the violent intrusion, clamp my eys shut, wait for the pain to ease...
Except it doesnt. The guy simply lets go, leaving the thing jammed inside me. He returns to his friends, fistbumping and laughing, pausing occasionally to grin over his shoulder at me. The thing is still inside as they disappear back into the crowd.
"Well," coos the host. "This in an interesting development. I wonder how long he can hold it in?"
His words take a minute to register. Why would I want to hold it in? Already I can feel my body forcing it out-
Then it hits me, and I immediately clamp my muscles to hold it in place.
So long as it's inside me, it's blocking the sensor. And that means I'm safe from the shocks.
To my dismay, it quickly becomes clear that this isn't a battle I can hope to win. My hole is slick with lube, and the dildo is smooth and reasonably heavy. At best I can simply slow its exit, not prevent it entirely.
But I resolve to hold on as long as i can.
I deny every urge to move, every instinct to adjust my body. I hang perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe...but still I can feel the dildo slowly easing its way out. Gradually there is less and less for my body to hold on to, and finally it drops free. It catches my ankle as it falls, one last painful insult, and the crowd cheers as it hits the ground. I close my eyes in dismay.
"Two minutes!" the Host announces. "Five total. Half way there!"
I feel hatred for the Host unlike anything I have felt before. "Fuck you," I shout for what seems like the thousandth time.
"Now now," he chides. "You mustn't waste precious energy insulting me."
"Just let me die."
"Aaw, dont be like that." He turns to the crowd. "I think our friend here needs cheering up!" he booms. "Any volunteers? Yes, you there!"
He plucks man from the crowd, seemingly at random, and steers him towards me. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir," he says apologetically. "But our friend here has something to ask you."
The man stares up at me expectantly.
"Fuck me..." I mutter, refusing to make eye contact.
"Say again?"
"Please fuck me."
"You want to be fucked?"
"Yes."
The man pauses, strokes his chin thoughtfully. "See, I just don't believe you."
Confused, I raised my eyes.
"I asked-"
"Yes, I heard you. You're saying that you want to be fucked. But i just ain't buying it. Perhaps if you phrased it differently..."
Exasperated, I glance at the host. He's clearly enjoying every second of this exchange.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Well, maybe if you told me exactly what you wanted," says the man. "All polite, like."
I sigh, finally catching on. "Please, sir", I utter as calmy as I can. "I really want..."
"A cock?"
"Yes," I grimace. "I really want a cock inside me."
I dont like where this is going, but I have no choice but to play along.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, which one would you-"
"I dont care."
"Really," he muses. "Surely someone in your position has some kind of preference?"
"A small one."
"Oh," he says, sounding disappointed. "Don't you want to feel it?"
"No."
"So whats the point?"
"Please..."
"I don't think you're taking this seriously."
"Fine, a big one."
"That's more like it."
The man selects a pair of dildos off the rack and offers them up for me to see. "Which one?"
I stare at the two rubbery abominations in horror. Both are enormous; he's clearly chosen the largest ones on offer. One is long and curved, the other slightly shorter but with segmented bumps along its shaft. I don't want either. But I also don't want another shock.
"That one," I say, nodding towards the bumpy one.
"Okay then." He replaces the curved one, then carefully guides my chosen implement into position. I hear the now-familiar ding from between my legs, and brace myself for the insertion.
The tip goes in with surprising ease. I briefly wonder if it might not be so bad, that perhaps my hole has now been stretched enough to accomodate...but then the next segment goes in, and the next, and the next. It seems to go on forever, forcing me further apart with each movement. I grit my teeth as the assault continues.
Finally satisfied that it's gone far enough inside, the man begins to ease it out. The pain begins to subside, but all too soon it returns as the second thrust begins.
"How you doing?"
"Fine," I lie.
"Should I go faster?"
"No."
He pauses. "I really think I should." The implication is clear.
"Please, sir. Go Faster."
"If you insist."
His thrusting picks up speed.
"You know, Im not even using the full shaft. Should I go deeper?"
"Whatever."
"What was that?"
"Please sir, go deeper."
And so it continues, the man prompting me every so often to ask for faster, or harder, or deeper. The pain is now so great that I am thankfully spared another humilating erection, although at this point, I would almost be glad of the distraction anyway.
After what feels like an eternity, the thrusting finally begins to subside. "You know what?" the man muses. "I'm starting to think this one might not be big enough, after all. What do you think?"
I blink in surprise. Bigger!? I was certain the two he offered me were the largest on offer. I glance down at the stand, and sure enough, there are some even greater in length and width. I'm uncertain how to proceed. Clearly if I say no, the man will stop. But theres no way my body can accomodate anything larger.
"Well?"
"No, sir."
Now its the man's turn to look surprised. "No?"
"Please, I can't."
"That's "please I cant, sir," he adds with emphasis. "And I think you can." He abruptly pulls out and switches up to an even larger one. Its truly monstrous; long, thick and veiny. He returns to my side and methodically prepares to slide the thing up through the seat. But before he can get it in, I twist my hips awkwardly to the side so that the insertion hole no longer lines up with my own.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't..." I grunt, straining to maintain the difficult position.
"Yes you can."
"I dont want to."
He struggles a moment longer, then calmly straightens up. "Well, its your choice," he states, stepping backwards. "I suppose it will be just as much watching you fry." With that, he tosses the dildo back to the Host, folds his arms, and waits.
The following two minutes are almost as unbearable as the fucking. I know what's coming, but I'm powerless to prevent it. And all the time this man remains calmly in front of me, watching, waiting...
I feel the warning tingle, see the red light come on...and finally the pain arrives. I stubbornly try not to move, to deny these people the pleasure they seek, but i'm powerless to resist. The air is knocked from lungs, my muscles wrench against the nails, and my body dances as the electricity cuts through it.
Eventually the device resets, granting me another five-minute respite. The man leaves, satisfied that I have suffered enough, and the Host begins his cruel summary.
"Three minutes!" he cries. "And who would have thought our friend here would so eagerly embrace his submissive side?"
Once I've caught my breath, I direct my anger towards the man responsible for my torment. "What is your problem!?"
The Host ignores me, now joking with a couple of women.
"Seriously," I continue. "Why won't you leave me alone?"
Still nothing.
"You got a crush on me or something?"
That gets his attention. He clicks his mic off and turns to face me. But something's wrong. He's smiling.
I try again. "You're getting off on this, arent you?"
The Host smiles even wider, as though savouring some big, delicious secret. "She warned me you'd get like this," he says calmy. "That you seem nice at first, but secretly, deep down, you're just a huge asshole."
I feel like he's hinting towards something, but I have no idea what it is. I search his face for clues as he strolls casually towards me.
"I bet that's why she chose this game for you," he continues. "It's almost poetic."
I frown at him in confusion, still failing to grasp what he's getting at.
"Of course, she wanted to cut your balls off, too," he states. "I told her no. No amputations." He grins, and drops his eyes to between my legs. "Besides, it's much more fun when they're still attached."
"I dont understand."
He rolls his eyes, impatient that I haven't caught on. "Your ex," he states. "She put me up to this."
My ex? Christ. Memories of some distant, previous life come flooding back. I was a person once, I remember. An actual person. With hopes, and dreams, and relationships...
"Dont worry," he says quickly. "She's not here. But she is watching."
I stare at the cameras in horror, imagining her eyes fixed upon me. "Why...?" I manage to ask.
The man shrugs. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he recites. "But it's been a hell of ride. Or should I say, she's a hell of a ride." He smiles proudly, watching my expression change as the pieces fall into place. I feel sick to my stomach.
"No..."
"'Fraid so," he grins. "We matched a few weeks back. Said she was a big fan of the show, told me her ex was on trial for-"
He pauses for a moment, lost in thought.
"You know, I'm pretty sure she set you up. Probably even slipped the judge a few bucks, if I'm honest. All that money went somewhere."
I dont know how to process this information. It's too much.
But the Host continues to twist the knife. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm almost certain she's just taking advantage of me. Soon as you're gone, I'll be out of the picture."
Why is this man still talking? "Please," I beg. "Tell someone. The guards, the police... Help me-"
"Help you?" The man looks incredulous. "Why would i do that? Do you have any idea what that would do to my reputation? To my ad revenue?"
"Please-"
"Nah, I'm good. And you know the best part? Tonight, while you're still hanging here, all by yourself-" he leans in close, drops his voice to a whisper "-im gonna be fucking her. Over, and over, and over."
A thousand emotions explode inside me. I want to reach out, strangle him, punch him in the face...force him to see reason-
But I cant. All i can do is struggle hopelessly against my bonds, howling with desperation and rage and pain.
The host steps back and clicks his mic back on, pleased with my reaction. "Oh-ho!" he crows loudly. "Silly me. I might have just let slip that I'm nailing his ex! The good kind of nailing, too," he shouts over the cheers and laughter. "Not the kind he's into. Although both involve being naked. Funny that." More laughter.
I feel utterly broken. The knowledge that I've been set up, that I've done nothing to deserve this awful punishment...that my tormentor isn't just working for my ex, he's literally sleeping with her...
I know the timer is running out, but I don't care any more. I no longer care about the Host, or the crowd, or the noise around me. I don't care when the red light comes on, or when the device unleashes its devastating payload. I don't even care when the pain finally becomes too great, and darkness comes crashing down upon me once more.