Hard Time – Part 4

Overton is stretched on the rack while the Warden tries to break him with a painful needle torture.

Hard Time – Part 4
by Kronmire4
Art by Amalaric
Series: Hard Time

It was early morning of the third day after Overton, Simmons and the other newbies had arrived at Barkley Unit when Kent Overton was rudely awakened by the sound of his solitary cell’s door being loudly thrown open. Four guards rushed in and grabbed the still half-asleep, naked lad from his mattress and forcibly manhandled him out into the hallway, half-dragging and half-carrying him down to the assistant warden’s interrogation room. Upon arrival, Kent rubbed his eyes and saw that in the center of the room there was now a long, heavy table, professionally equipped with shackles drilled into each corner of its wooden surface; the metal cuffs were themselves attached to chains and a ratchet wheel, obviously to allow the links to be lengthened or shortened as required. “Hey! You’re not puttin’ me on that thing!” he hollered. The guards guffawed loudly and, although Overton fought them as best he could, managing to land a few punches against a couple of the guards, there was never any serious chance that these highly trained officers would fail in securing his limbs, and at last they succeeded in spread-eagling him firmly to the massive table. When completely stretched out and bound by the metal clamps, the boy still squirmed and struggled, his beefy chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his well-defined washboard abdominals quivering as he strained mightily but futilely against the trap he was in. His flaccid but healthy, well-formed cock flopped helplessly between his thighs as he pulled and twisted against the unrelenting restraints. One of the guards, Ted Barnes by name, was particularly overcome by the lad’s masculine beauty and paused to run his fingers over Overton’s sweaty nude form, wishing that he could run his tongue over it, too – but that would require the warden’s permission! Just then Warden McDougal entered the room, smiling broadly, accompanied by his trusty sergeant. “Well, Barnes, it seems you approve of our new inmate recruit.” The others chortled as Barnes gulped and stammered out: “Uh, yes, sir, just checking him out sir. He’s quite a prize.” The warden laughed and replied, “That’s true, son. I can’t blame anyone for lusting after this greek god. Of course, it’s HIS attitude that we must change. That’ll be all for now, men.” The guards stepped back and with Officer Barnes casting a last wistful glance at Overton’s heaving magnificent physique, they left the room; only the warden and his sergeant remained.

While the warden looked the tied captive up and down, Sgt. Cantrell placed a rolled up silver-cloth type package on a nearby table and began to unwrap it. Inside were numerous cloth pockets, each containing a different-sized stainless steel needle, some straight and some curved. Overton had calmed down by this time and was just shooting daggers with his eyes at the hated Warden McDougal. He snarled at the man: “Don’t think you’re gonna get your kicks outta me, you bastard! I can take anything you can dish out!” The warden knew that at least part of that challenge was empty bravado, but he had to admire the kid’s spunk. This boy was a veritable gladiator, and McDougal could imagine him fighting all comers in the Rome of old. Taking the handle of the ratchet wheel, the warden began to turn it clockwise, causing the chains to stretch the lad’s body, slowly, bit by bit. McDougal said, “Let’s just make you a bit more comfortable, shall we, Mr. Overton?” Kent bit his lower lip and sucked in his gut as he tried to resist the stretching of his muscles, but the pain quickly overcame him, and he moaned loudly: “OOOOOOAH!” The warden paused and locked the wheel in place, keeping the lad stretched tightly against the corners of the table, his taut young body gleaming in the light, looking quite good enough to satisfy the heartiest sexual appetite of any man’s man. In fact, watching those muscles quiver gave the warden quite a hardon at that! Bending his head down, McDougal brushed his lips against the lad’s hard nipples, then bathed them with his tongue before continuing to lick his way down between Overton’s pecs until he reached the contours of those excellent abs; finally he twirled the tip of that hungry tongue in and around the boy’s navel, teasing those treasure-trail curly blonde hairs, all in all enjoying an indescribable sensation of pleasure. The kid yelled angrily: “Cut it out, you creep from Hell! Get your filthy mouth off me! Let me outta here! I ain’t no queer!” The boy’s captor reluctantly stood and said, “Well, my boy, it appears that you need some additional training. And my sergeant here will carry it out. Ready, Brad?” Cantrell looked over and said with a leering grin, “Yes, sir – more than ready, sir!” The warden responded, “Let’s begin, shall we? Oh, Mr. Overton, I must tell you what is about to happen. This set of tools – very sharp needles, actually– was originally designed for acupuncture healing purposes. But Sgt. Cantrell has adapted them, after making a careful study of the physical and neurological structure of the male body, where they now can be inserted in a man’s skin, muscles and nerves for the purpose of producing pain, not the relief from it. The diameter of each needle is so small that there is rarely any blood drawn, but you will find out for yourself just how devastating these little tools are when forced into your firm flesh. Oh, one thing more, Brad, before starting, do remove your shirt. This is such a hot, sweaty business, and I want you to be comfortable. Your chest needs to be on display more anyway, although I’m not sure our guest will enjoy the view as much as I will.” Brad began to unbutton his uniform top, revealing a quite hairy and well-developed chest, deeply-tanned; he was in his thirties and took full advantage of the prison gym to keep himself fit, not only for his own health, but in order to carry out some of the very strenuous tortures which his boss required. Sometimes, when his duty was to flog a prisoner, the warden would have the sergeant strip naked, and on those occasions he could seldom keep his rock-hard cock from standing at full attention. Losing no more time after stripping to the waist, the sergeant picked up the first straight needle and showed it to Overton, saying, “Yes, Overton, this will be the first prick you feel, unlike the prick I am feeling now.” He laughed as he grasped the lad’s generous dick in his other hand and began to stroke it, causing the panicked prisoner to redouble his efforts to escape from that unforgiving grip. Keeping a tight hold on the sweat-slicked dick of his captive, Cantrell inserted the tip of the needle in just under one side of the lad’s erect left nipple, then slowly rammed it through and out the other side, creating an instantaneous spasm in the boy’s pectoral muscle and bringing a terrifying scream to his lips: “AAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEARGH!” The warden interrupted, “Ah, I was right about this boy having very sensitive nipples. Do continue, Sergeant; he is strong and can take quite a lot.” Releasing the lad’s dick, the sergeant picked up another straight needle and began to apply it to the boy’s right tit, producing the same loud result from his victim. Slowly but methodically, Sgt. Cantrell applied about three dozen needles, both straight and curved, to the trussed-up prisoner, primarily to his armpits, his chest, and his abdomen; by the time those implements were implanted in the lad’s golden skin, the victim had almost passed out – but there was more to come. The dedicated junior officer next took several small, curved needles and began to push them through Overton’s loose foreskin and even through the epidermal layer of his cock, which had begun to swell from the pressure of the man’s hand now again stroking it; Cantrell knew enough not to damage the boy’s urethra or other vessels in this most precious of organs, but the pain alone was too much to bear; with a final banshee-like cry of despair, Kent Overton’s head rolled to the side, his eyes closed, as he lost consciousness.

While the exhausted fellow slept, Sgt. Cantrell removed all of the needles and wiped the boy’s skin down with alcohol. Warden McDougal then picked up a bucket of water and doused the captive’s head, awakening him from his stupor and causing him to yell and snort as he shook the cold water from his face. Trying to relax but breathing hard, Overton made no sounds, and the warden, thinking that the acupuncture torture had worked to soften up his reluctant disposition, bent down and stroked the boy’s handsome face; as he did so, Overton slowly turned his head up to confront the warden’s close, solicitous gaze – and at just that moment, fully awake, the boy’s eyes suddenly filled with rage and he spit a strong stream of water mixed with rancid saliva directly into the warden’s eyes. “Damn you, you little shit!” yelled the warden, wiping his face frantically as the boy smiled for the first time since he’d been at Barkley Unit. Hauling off with his right fist, McDougal delivered a firm punch to the boy’s midsection, knocking the air out of him, following it up with another and another. But the boy only kept on smiling with tight lips, gritted teeth and a hostile, intense hatred in his beautiful blue eyes. “Get him out of here, Cantrell!”, the warden hollered, as several guards rushed in, unshackelled the now-docile but still gloating young man and hustled him out of the room and back to his cell. Sgt. Cantrell looked sheepish and said, “I’m sorry Warden; this treatment has always worked before to get men to submit. I guess some guys just can’t be tamed.” Shaking with fury, McDougal thought for a few minutes, trying to get his emotions under control; finally he said, “Yes, perhaps you are right. But I think there IS one thing more we can try on young Mr. Overton. I’ll have the last laugh yet.”

CONTINUE THE STORY:
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1 Comment

  1. 31118azti - March 22, 2019, 9:45 am

    Oh, to be in charge of his torture!

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