Chapter 185 - CHAPTER 14 - CURT'S NEXT ORDEAL

Curt's eyes slowly blinked as if gradually waking after being passed out, his mind confused and disoriented. He looked around and saw that he was in a large empty room and while not familiar with it at all, it didn't seem strange to him. Where was he? The thought vanished like wisps of smoke replace by thoughts only about the present and where he was now.

It was dark and he felt around him and saw he was lying - fully clothed - on a cold cement floor. Or did it feel cold? How long was he here? Where was he? For a split second he was confused but then suddenly felt he was in no danger at all.

He looked around and saw a huge metal door - one that he hadn't seen a moment before. Now it was there. It looked familiar - resembling a door he had seen before. In an instant he was next to it, pushing it and somehow it opened like some magical gate to freedom, as he expected it to. He was outside and could feel the brilliant sun on his face and body. Though he felt the warmth, he couldn't see it, but that didn't trouble him at all. Everything seemed like it should be.

He stood there eyes closed, savoring the comforting warmth on his body and face, free of any restraints. That seemed like some distant vague memory to him now. Every moment now consumed his attention and replaced any painful memory of the past. He saw a grassy field of green stretched out before him and he found himself running on it as fast as he could - running further away from the structure where he vaguely remembered horrible things happening.

He saw a group of four or five huge hulking men coming after him from a distance. For a second he felt fear, but not panic. For some reason Curt knew he would out run them - he was in control and felt no fear.

They disappeared and vanished in a haze as he turned around. Further along he saw a huge house that he felt would be safe for him. In an instant he was inside and saw something familiar. A big bed - it seemed like it was his and without hesitation he laid down face down, his body floating almost. He turned his head seeing a beautiful young woman - and then another - both of whom he vaguely recalled being with before. They were next to him, lying on the bed with him, touching him as he remembered, and causing him to smile. Two of them worshipping his body and responding to his d.e.s.i.r.es and commands as women also did with him. He was in control.

But one of them was poking at his side that caused him discomfort. He gestured strongly to one of the women to stop. The poking got stronger - and more irritating to him, as he tried to bat away whatever it was.

"F.u.c.kin stop I told you!" he yelled at the woman, as the poking continued.

Now the other woman was slapping his face yelling at him. What was happening? He turned to them angry but they were gone. What the f.u.c.k? Another hard slap and a several pokes to his side.

"WAKE THE F.U.C.K UP PRETTY BOY OR GET HURT" the Big Sam.o.a.n yelled at Curt, slapping his face now harder and harder as he laid restrained spread eagle on the bed.

His body was a picture of pure youthful masculinity with muscled proportioned biceps, t.h.i.g.hs, torso and mounded pecs.

Three other grinning hulking goons stood next to the Big Sam.o.a.n and also poked the sleeping handsome boy with their cattle prods that - for now - were not powered up. They delighted in poking at the boy's sides and b.u.t.t, one of them, sliding the tip of the prod up and down Curt's slightly hairy a.s.s crack and brushing the tip in his exposed hairy armpits. Seeing Curt's n.a.k.e.d body spread out before them, they would have loved to power up the prods and administer shock after shock right inside his slightly hairy rosebud tight v.i.r.g.i.n hole just to see his Alpha Male straight boy defiance dissolve into blood curdling screams.

If necessary, they were authorized to do just that if needed, but were instructed to avoid damaging the boy. The Facility higher ups that controlled the facility, given the high interest and money Curt was generating among their hundreds of rich clients across the world, had already set in motion major plans for the eventual gang **** of Curt's v.i.r.g.i.n asshole. But other torments needed to happen first to Curt, based on the money and requests by many of the facility's very wealthy buyers and viewers.

The slapping of his face and prodding with the cattle prods caused the boy to stir to full consciousness. With a start Curt woke, blinking his long lashed green eyes, a huge wave of dread overwhelmed him in a second, with the painful realization that he was dreaming - he wasn't free - but now waking to his real life nightmare.

This was real.

"YOU DREAMING OF F.U.C.K.I.N.G SOME BITCH PRETTY BOY??? THOSE DAYS ARE OVER FOR YOU!" the Big Sam.o.a.n taunted the bewildered boy.

Crestfallen, he looked around, and down his body and remembered he was n.a.k.e.d, with his long d.i.c.k encased in a stainless steel c.o.c.k cage to keep his straight boy c.o.c.k under control by his tormentors - which grew semi hard from his dream.

He trembled involuntarily, remembering with horrors that took place two weeks earlier on his first day at the Facility - the non-stop edging, c.o.c.k polishing and post o.r.g.a.s.m rubbing and stroking that was far worse than anything before that he experienced in his young life. The intensity of their attack, the skill they had at finding every s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e spot on his body, especially his c.o.c.k head, shaft and balls that caused such unbearable p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e or unbearable sensation driving him to animal like hysterical shrieking. He was humiliated at what happened but even more fearful that it would happen again soon. Maybe today. Every day he feared that or something else would happen to him. Find authorized novels in , faster updates, better experience, Please click <a href="#&apos;s-next-ordeal_52480222670408569">#&apos;s-next-ordeal_52480222670408569</a> for visiting.

How could he stand that - again?

He stared at the Big Sam.o.a.n and then noticed the sound and images from the 60 inch HD video screen on the wall near his bed that flickered on. The Big Sam.o.a.n and the others smirked at Curt, keeping their eye on him but also watching the video screen with interest. Curt looked up and then heard his own voice and realized a video was playing - of him. It was Curt in his swimming shorts walking, lying and flirting with girls at his apartment complex - crystal clear video that focused on his face, torso, abs and crotch.

He was puzzled and confused about the video - who took it? How did they get it? And then he remembered. Noah. That faggot creep who stalked him and took hidden video of him for the past year he lived at that apartment complex. Curt's anger swelled inside of him remembering how he caught his neighbor videotaping him while he was passed out n.a.k.e.d on his patio below. How the creep's video camera fell on his stomach. All because of him Curt decided to move out quickly. And now this.

The hidden videos were being streamed to paid benefactors and interested buyers that only increased their l.u.s.t for Curt and d.e.s.i.r.e to have further torments inflicted on him. Never before had they abducted a boy with such videos that flaunted Curt's masculinity and prowess. Curt stared at the video playing with rage and disgust. That f.u.c.kin stalker faggot creep neighbor of his. All because of him. He cursed Noah again under his breath.

The Big Sam.o.a.n ordered Curt to dress - pointing to an outfit, a wrestling singlet, jock strap, white short socks and trainers, on the table near his bed. Each day since that first day - now over two weeks - he followed a strict regime of getting dressed though usually in some sweats. This was the first time he was to dress in a wrestling singlet.

He never understood what they had in mind for him since his abduction. He always feared a repeat attack on his body like the first night - endless edging and post o.r.g.a.s.m torment. He shuddered at that thought. And yet, for over two weeks nothing happened to him except for being forced in a strict regime of exercise to keep his body toned and muscled. It was like being in a high class detention center with faggot sadists as guards running it Curt thought. He had wondered if other people abducted were here too. He hadn't seen anyone else yet, just his guards. But he thought he had heard them talk about others. And the place seemed too big with a routine too established to have been created simply for one person like Curt.

The Big Sam.o.a.n pushed the cold metal end of his cattle prod right in the area of Curt's belly button as he gasped.

"Get f.u.c.kin dressed boy," the Big Sam.o.a.n ordered.

For a second, Curt thought of resisting, hating his captivity and the control that they had over him.

But the huge Sam.o.a.n just grinned and pressed the charger button on the cattle prod so Curt could hear terrifying w.h.i.n.e and then the crackle and sizzle of the surging electrical current waiting to be released. He now put the now warmed up prod against Curt's exposed muscled t.h.i.g.h. The touching of the metal against his skin made Curt's t.h.i.g.h grow taut expecting stinging pain any second, and his face flinching ever so slightly not wanting to show his fear, though Curt was terrified. The prod pressing against his inner muscled t.h.i.g.h was just inches away from his dangling limp d.i.c.k and balls.

"Give me a reason boy...ANY reason boy..I would love to do this...And I won't stop there. I'll fry your precious balls and c.o.c.k too...Not just me - the others too" the Sam.o.a.n said.

Biting back cursing him out, Curt glared at his tormentor, looking down at the prod the Big Sam.o.a.n still pressed against his t.h.i.g.h - and the prods held up close by the others, who were grinning with a glazed look of l.u.s.t in their eyes that for a second terrified Curt. These guys were sick f.u.c.ks Curt thought. Truly sick. But he was at their mercy. For now. He nodded, signaling his cooperation. He would dress in the outfit as ordered.

The Big Sam.o.a.n, pulled it away but unexpectedly pressed the now warmed metal end against Curt's loose slightly hairy loose ball sack as the youth gasped under his breath "Oh Jesus...No".

The Big Sam.o.a.n laughed derisively at Curt, rubbing the prod around his loose scrotum, and then up and down his limp long shaft and then pressed against his c.o.c.khead as the boy's body trembled slightly - fearful and not knowing for sure if he would press the release button on the prod and burn the shit out of his d.i.c.k as the boy stood completely still not wanting to incite his tormentor.

"Look...Okay...I'm getting dressed, okay? Just...please..." Curt said quietly to the Big Sam.o.a.n trying to sound reasonable and compliant without begging. But he was pushing down the terror he felt of having that prod unleash its powerful stinging electrical charge on his manhood. Curt did all he could to hold back cursing the Big Sam.o.a.n, knowing any defiance now would guarantee his c.o.c.k and balls getting fried. And he saw the others were ready with their fired up cattle prods, waiting to attack his exposed n.a.k.e.d body.

The Big Sam.o.a.n stared then laughed loudly, taunting the straight handsome athlete and pulled the prod away.

Curt, stared icily back at him and the others, trying to recover his Alpha Male bravado, but they knew better. No guy - no matter how brave - would want his manhood fried by one cattle prod after another. Curt knew he had no choice but also realized that putting on the singlet meant there was another day of some ordeal he would also have to face.

"I bet that is gonna smell real nice after you wear it a day or two, huh? Its gonna smell f.u.c.kin hot!!!," one the large ugly looking men holding one of the charged up cattle prods said, staring l.u.s.tfully at the near n.a.k.e.d youth.

Curt eyes widened in anger turning to the man who said that, but held back the obscenity on his lips. He wanted to tell the man to go f.u.c.k himself but also was in constant disbelief that anyone - especially another man - would say those things to another guy.

His other guards including the Big Sam.o.a.n leered at him, growing l.u.s.tful at seeing this handsome straight boy putting on his jock and singlet. The viewing audience was also watching live stream, zeroing in on his tight a.s.s, as Curt put on the jock strap, and seeing how the straps clung to his a.s.s cheeks, and with the large waist band, l.e.w.dly framing his v.i.r.g.i.n muscled b.u.t.t.

The singlet was one size at least too small it seemed to Curt - and the fabric seemed to cling to his body more. It was hard for him to walk without the fabric moving up into his b.u.t.t crack and cinching his junk and t.h.i.g.hs. He never would have worn a singlet too tight or small. He looked down and saw how the fabric of this singlet, despite the jock, clung and formed over his duck egg sized balls, his long thick c.o.c.k outlining even his large foreskin covered knob.

As a high school and college wrestler he wasn't shy about his body - or even having a bulge that showed his junk, but that was before his abduction. Back then in college, Curt was competing with other wrestlers who he didn't think cared a rat's a.s.s about looking at his bulge, though he didn't realize then that in fact there were several guys who loved looking at Curt and loved touching his body while wrestling him in matches.

In high school and college he could care less about showing a bulge or even being n.a.k.e.d among other guys.

He never thought twice about guys looking at his junk other than the type of quick gaze guys gave to each other to simply size up a person. He never cared about looking at another dude's junk - though he would do a once over of a guy's body to see what he would be up against in match. But never in a s.e.x.u.a.l way. The idea that some guys would look at him in his singlet during those matches in a s.e.x.u.a.l way never crossed his mind.

Yeah, he would notice up on the stands some regular older guys who seemed to always show up to tournaments, always seemed to be videotaping and didn't seem to have any kids wrestling. But that was sort of the normal thing in the crowd that wrestlers sort of knew about as slightly creepy but almost always ignored. The important thing was winning the match.

Curt certainly didn't mind if some girls in the audience looked at him and sometimes he went out of his way to take off his shoulder straps of his sweaty singlet, and pulled his top down exposing his v shaped muscled torso and pecs, scratching his head that showed off his bulging biceps and hairy sweaty armpit. He always did it on the excuse of trying to cool off, but the girls (and many secretly adoring guys) in the stands knew better. They loved the "Curt Show", seeing how his sweaty singlet clung tightly to his body like a second skin, showing off every curve and crevice of his body, as he walked back and forth on the gym floor ignoring the stands, but playing to it. He knew he had a nice body and loved to flaunt it.

It unnerved him - also because of the horrible ordeal he had already gone through that happened two weeks earlier. Though nothing had happened to him - other than forced regime of exercise - since then, he was terrified of being edged and c.o.c.k polished again - and even more terrified about post o.r.g.a.s.m polishing and stroking of his c.o.c.k. And the hysterical fear he felt about tickle torture that he prayed they would never think of doing to him. His body shook again with fear that he tried to hide and suppress. They hadn't done tickled him and Curt prayed maybe they either forgot about it or didn't think he was ticklish.

And so far, they didn't **** his a.s.s, something he thought would be the first thing that would have happened when he arrived here. He assumed that is what all faggot perverts did. His body shook thinking of what it would be like to be gang r.a.p.ed by the Big Sam.o.a.n and the other huge men guarding him. Judging by their huge size and what he assumed would be huge horse like c.o.c.ks to match, Curt feared they would rip and tear his a.s.s into a bloody mess. He shuddered at the thought, and of that act which would take his manhood.

He wondered briefly what would be worse - that gang **** or another endless ordeal of having his d.i.c.k played with, edged or whatever it was that they called it. His body trembled just recalling the horror of that tormenting - torture he thought was not possible to inflict on a guy. And then the constant terror of being tickled by these freaks if they ever found out that was his ultimate Achilles heel. He dismissed those thoughts as quickly as they invaded his mind constantly through the day, with the Alpha Male bravado to "man the f.u.c.k up Curt!!!!"

He calmed down and stared back at his guards, trying to show not reaction to their taunting or fears of what would happen next. It was a battle of willpower he dealt with every morning, and every other moment since his abduction.

Each morning, like this one, Curt woke up with no idea what would happen next after he dressed and had breakfast. Would it be a long day of exercise and then back to his room? Or would this be the day that another ordeal - like that first night - happens to him? Or the feared and threatened gang ****? Or something else? And if so, what? Curt tried to hide his growing panic now that he was moments away from being taken to the room.

Please God please not that edging and shit again. Please God. Oh God...not tickling. Oh God...not that please, God, Curt thought. He shook his head and closed his long lashed eyes and then glared at his tormentors. He somehow retrieved again whatever ragged remains of his alpha male straight boy bravado that remained. He would face his next ordeal like a man. F.u.c.k them he thought, but that thought would hold for seconds and maybe even minutes before disappearing in a haze replaced by fear and then panic, and then again re-asserting his Alpha Male persona. It was a process he repeated over and over as he struggled within himself to control what he could.

This morning he tried to convince himself that he could face anything, though he was mystified by being forced to wear the jock strap, singlet, white low cut sweat socks and trainers, as he continued dressing.

The singlet stretched and clung to each of his muscled b.u.t.t cheeks highlighting the deep cleft of his rounded muscled a.s.s. The singlet shoulder straps seemed strained from supporting the heavy package of his junk below and showed a lot of his tanned skin of his massive pecs with his n.i.p.p.l.es protruding, showing off his Adonis ripped body. He sat on the bench and put on the sock and Inflict type wrestling shoes. To his tormentors and audience viewing the live streamed video, the straight college athlete looked s.e.xy and beautiful attired in the singlet. It helped that he was a high school and college wrestler that made his wearing the singlet and gear all the more convincing.