Chapter 186 - 14 2

"Why....why am I wearing this?" Curt asked in a polite but slightly put off tone to his tormentors, unable to hold back the apprehension he felt.

No one answered him.

Instead, the Big Sam.o.a.n simply turned and pushed the cattle prod into Curt's right muscled t.h.i.g.h, and let loose a medium stinging charge that knocked the boy off the bench flat on the floor, as he shrieked in shock and surprise.

"AAAAAAHHHH!!!! WHATAF.U.C.K???!!! SHIT!!!!!!" he screamed at the Big Sam.o.a.n, grabbing his t.h.i.g.h in agony. It stung badly - though no permanent damage. But he could hear the low w.h.i.n.e of the cattle prods held by the Big Sam.o.a.n - juicing up to the higher setting that was sure to burn his skin.

They laughed as the youth writhed on the floor balled up from the sharp burning like pain on his muscled t.h.i.g.h, always liking to see Curt's rippling muscles on display when his body was tormented. They loved seeing how his flat 8 pack stomach always remained flat as a board, as his s.e.xy belly button winked and opened from his struggles. No damage was done, though Curt thought for a second that the Big Sam.o.a.n had burned him badly, but saw only a deep angry red circle shaped mark on his inner t.h.i.g.h that seemed to continue to radiate heat - and pain. He heaved and panted from the pain and stared back up at the Big Sam.o.a.n, his eyes showing rage - and fear, but biting back any further words of defiance and anger he wanted to hurl at his tormentors.

"Shut the f.u.c.k up Curt. No questions." The Big Sam.o.a.n said, "or you get hurt from all five cattle prods."

Tears in his eyes, Curt stared angrily at them for a second, his body still shaking from the stinging charge, but realized defiance or asking more questions now would only invite more attacks. Though no apparent permanent physical damage was done, the pain was intense to Curt. He looked, with the stinging pain in his inner muscled t.h.i.g.h still throbbing, at the other four hulking guards who seemed almost anxious to use their cattle prods on him. They stared at him glassy eyed, one of them l.i.c.k.i.n.g his lips.

This is f.u.c.k.e.d up Curt thought. But he slowly got up, rubbing his inside t.h.i.g.h where the cattle prod stung him. He was sore, but he could walk.

His guards hungrily watched closely as Curt got up, the boy's tight singlet show off every muscle and bulge as he turned and stood for a second and then walked ahead. Seeing his reaction and how ripped his body was, increased their l.u.s.t and d.e.s.i.r.e to unleash their cattle prods all over Curt's body, especially his proud straight boy d.i.c.k and balls and a charged prod fired right on his tight rosebud v.i.r.g.i.n asshole. They wanted to hear the youth scream as his muscled body writhed. Unlike the Big Sam.o.a.n, they wouldn't necessarily have their own individual time to do what they wanted with Curt, given their own lower status at the Facility. So they would compensate their unquenched l.u.s.t for Curt by increasing the torments on the boys they could have - like a recent new addition named Jake.

Without a word, Curt slowly walked ahead of the Big Sam.o.a.n who pointed to a door for Curt to go through. To his surprise, he wasn't going to be taken to the next room where he thought his next terrible ordeal would happen. Instead, he was led through a door that was another entrance to the training and workout room. He had been in this room every day since that first terrible ordeal, but this entrance was different. He made an effort to remember that - and wondered why he didn't notice that door before when he was in the room before. Curt always tried to remember every door and every hallway where he was taken - for an eventual escape plan. But what he didn't know was false walls or panels would be moved, hiding an entrance or exit or creating a new one that he saw once or twice before, giving a totally new appearance to the room's exits and entrances.

The Sam.o.a.n told Curt he would need to exercise for the next two hours - any resistance, or failure to not complete any set of exercise - including weight work - would result in instant punishment without warning. AND two hours of solid unrelenting tickle torture. They wanted him to build up his adrenaline and force his body and singlet to retain a nice sweaty sheen. Several of the benefactors watching live streamed bid for his singlet and jock strap afterwards. And they wanted the boy's musky sweaty scent on it - sweat from his exercise as if he was back in college.

Curt stared back wide eyed - fearful of that constant threat, but also trying to fight back surges of rage. He hated, hated, hated what they did to him - guys touching his junk, making him c.u.m, teasing the shit out of him, tying his body up and doing whatever they wanted. He was bewildered and embarrassed that somehow these freaks - other guys - so easily could over power him, abduct him, fondle him at will and worse, make his p.u.s.s.y loving body respond his f.u.c.k meat grow steel hard and shoot loads after loads. How could that happen? And yet he also knew how incredible some of the fondling, touching and s.u.c.k.i.n.g felt, though he tried to shut out those thoughts.

He vowed in his mind to escape and make them pay, but his body trembled involuntarily when he remembered how terrible the edging and c.o.c.k polishing the worst of all - post o.r.g.a.s.m torture was. And the brief tickling.

Curt enjoyed being in this fully equipped exercise room that at least was a distraction to his captivity. The skylight brought plenty of hot sun into the room. Curt looked up and squinted. Just sky and clouds. He never say anything other than the sky through that portal that separated him from his past life. No way to tell where he was - and too high as a possible escape route out. Though he had been in this room every day since that first day to exercise, he never ceased looking up to that skylight and wondering.

Today Curt was given a set of different exercises - including weight work, pull-ups, pushups, and running on treadmill. He was mystified about the purpose - why? But he kept silent seeing the cattle prod. Maybe this was it for today...and the exercising felt good to him. F.u.c.k 'em. He would focus on that and not their perverted ideas - and staring.

His entire two hour regime was viewed by the large audience of potential buyers and others in the facility live video stream. His singlet and body after two hours of non-stop exercising was damp wet from heavy sweating, which his adoring audience would bid furiously to own when it came on sale - as it would shortly.

The big Sam.o.a.n now only held Curt, gripping his rounded muscled biceps tightly, loving the feel of hardness of his magnificent physique, with other hooded guys on either side of him. Escape seemed impossible. The metal door behind them clanged shut. His heart raced now realizing he was not going to be taken back to his own room, but that he would now face some unknown ordeal. Today was the day. But what? He suppressed yet another tremor of pure fear. Instead he glared at his tormentors, his lips closed tight in anger. Despite his Alpha Male bravado, it was all he could do to not dissolve into pure hysterical panic, the hooded men around him unnerving him - as it was meant to do.

Jesse, hooded, came up to him and grabbed his jaw with his hand forcing the straight stud to face him.

"You smell nice after your workout there Curt. Look f.u.c.kin hot, though not sure if your momma would approve of that bulge sticking out. I guess being tied up by guys really excites you, huh?"

"F.u.c.k you, you f.u.c.kin pervert" Curt muttered, trying to break the grasp that Jesse had on his jaw.

The Big Sam.o.a.n tightened his hold on the boy.

"Well, actually my friend, you are the one that is - and has been - truly f.u.c.k.e.d since we met you. " Jesse said, laughing, and then suddenly slapping the boy's face hard on his cheek. "Well, not yet f.u.c.k.e.d in your tight a.s.s...we have other things in mind first for your precious Alpha bod!!"

Curt's head turned from the impact, with Jesse hand print showing on his cheek. While the slap stung, Curt refused to scream, and simply turned his head back to face his tormentor, glaring at him. The slap enraged the straight boy. He wondered about not being f.u.c.k.e.d - he assumed after he was abducted that would be the first thing that happened to him. Yeah, they played and tongued his a.s.s cheeks and dirty crack and even his b.u.t.t hole. He was repulsed and disgusted by that - and incredulous that anyone would put their tongue there, male or female. Especially a dude. But no one tried to f.u.c.k him - much to his relief. He had no idea why and the uncertainty of whatever he would face next - including a horrible gang **** of his v.i.r.g.i.n straight a.s.s - caused waves of terror in Curt - something he desperately tried to control as much as he could.

"You're not in charge here Curt. This isn't your college. You're not in control. We ain't your bitches. We loved edging the shit out of you on your first day here - you remember that I am sure. But right now we'll move on now in a different direction, one that I am sure you will enjoy based on your reactions in the van...you remember?" Jesse said.

Regaining some of his defiance, Curt glared back at his tormentors and couldn't think what Jesse was referring to. He couldn't understand why they dressed him in this uniform. What were they talking about? Something he would enjoy? Something that happened in the van ride?

'Oh my god god no' Curt thought in horror, his eyes widened unable to hide the sheer horror. He knew they would show him no mercy. It would be unbearable. Though he tried not to show the panic he felt, the sheer terror of being tied up and tickle tortured by these sadistic perverts overwhelmed any stoicism he had.

Now two weeks into his abduction, he knew how cruel and sadistic these guys were and that any tickling wouldn't be short or stop when it went too far. There would be no stopping for mercy and any tickling would go on and on. That alone terrified him beyond anything else - because while he might psyche himself to somehow survive through a minute or two of tickle torture - how could he endure hours and hours? Nothing, he knew now, would be too much or too far to inflict on his body by these sadists. My god, my god, Jesus - how do I survive that? Oh shit oh shit oh my god Curt thought as his mind descended into panic mode. The pupils of his green eyes grew large showing fear and panic, his mouth gaping in horror, to the delight of his tormentors. That priceless reaction of a straight boy doomed to endless tickle torture was exactly what they hoped for.

"Ah, yes...tickling. You DID remember! I am so touched! Well, it is one of our favorite activities with our guests. And because of the demand - and how much you enjoy it, we set aside four full days. Four f.u.c.kin full days to tickle the shit out of you. Yeah. And its time now..." Jesse said, patting Curt's cheek like a baby.

He nodded at the Big Sam.o.a.n and the other huge men who guarded Curt, and led the terrified youth through a large metal door - into a large room with wrestling mats covering the floor - and the walls covered by green colored mats. On a huge video screen on the wall was a video of a handsome tormented boy - about Curt's age, build - and shrieking, writhing from fingers tickling his sides, pits and feet by a gang of hooded men. For a long the video showed his handsome face full screen - clearly in agony and torment from the tickle torture his eyes showing sheer panic - as he shrieked and screamed as his body buckled. They forced him to watch it, and then shoved him further into the large room.

"Oh God..." Curt whispered under his breath, trying to hide his growing despair and terror.

The large room resembled a wrestling practice room. He was still not restrained by rope, chains or cuffs but held by two of his four guards, with the Big Sam.o.a.n now standing right behind.

In surge of adrenaline he broke free and dashed into the room, headed for a door that he hoped would be an exit to escape. There was of course no escape for Curt, though he didn't know that and at the moment was too panicked about the tickle torture to care. His mind - a mixture of rage and panic - was driven to somehow get away or fight even if the attempt was hopeless.

He dashed across the room and headed for the closed door, reaching it, surprised that his captors were not yet on him. He tried the door but it wouldn't budge. He turned, trying to control his panic and stared at six hulking men each easily over 220 pounds of muscle slowly walking toward him, unarmed, hooded and menacing. The Big Sam.o.a.n stood behind them staring at Curt ordering him to give up.

"F.U.C.K YOU!!!! GET THE F.U.C.K AWAY FROM ME!!!!!" Curt yelled back at the Big Sam.o.a.n.

With any escape cut off, Curt decided to fight back no matter what. Curt's Alpha Male mind was in control of his body for moment. No way would he let them take him without a fight to be tickle tortured. Curt's mind was in a frenzy with the single thought of at least fighting off or delaying that ordeal which truly terrified him. In his wrestling singlet he crouched as if in a match, though he knew this was a match without rules. He would kick, hit, sock and grab - do anything to stop them from taking him. If necessary he would even try to kill them to stop them. He knew it would be a desperate and losing fight - but he had no choice.

"YOU'RE ALL F.U.C.KIN FAGGOTS!!!!" YOU AIN'T DOING THIS SHIT TO ME!!! F.U.C.K YOU!!!!!!! I'LL F.U.C.KIN KILL YOU FIRST!!!!" Curt yelled at them in a burst of rage and fury.

The six huge men smiled grimly at the boy, as they approached him also in fighter stance. Each of the huge men were sinister unmerciful tickle torture masters - though Curt didn't know that.

"GET AWAY!!!! I'LL F.U.C.KIN KILL YOU!!! GET THE F.U.C.K AWAY!!!" Curt using an even louder defiant voice.

"Okay Curt. You need to obey and face this like a man. Strip. NOW!!!!" the Big Sam.o.a.n ordered, scowling at their handsome rebellious prisoner.

"F.U.C.K YOU!!!! I AINT DOING SHIT!!! YOU AINT F.U.C.KIN DOING THIS TO ME!!! I'll F.U.C.K YOU OVER IF YOU F.U.C.KIN TOUCH ME AGAIN!!! GET THE F.U.C.K AWAY!!!" Curt yelled, his rage overcoming for now, the sheer panic and hysteria that seemed ready to consume his body and mind. In his mind he had to delay - even if unsuccessful - the horror that was to come.

They knew it was possible he could inflict some level of damage to one or more of them, even though they outweighed him, given his lean muscled physique and experience as a wrestler. Nothing major of course, and they looked forward to that in some respects, because it would give them even greater reason to inflict revenge on the boy when they had him spread eagle and tied down. And they had additional men with cattle prods and other devices to bring him down if things got too out of hand.

They approached the defiant sweaty muscled youth, grinning.

Curt kicked the first man in the stomach hard, causing him to fall back to the floor yelping in pain. He kicked another in the face, causing immense pain but no real damage as that man fell back, yelling in pain. He kicked another in the upper leg that caused the huge man to fall. But those tiny moments of victory were short lived for Curt - measured in mere seconds, as the sweat covered his singlet covered muscled body and he faced the others in a crouched kickboxer-wrestling stance.

The viewing audience was ecstatic about the live performance - though Curt had no idea he was performing.

Hands grabbed the top of his sweat soaked singlet, as he struggled, pulling it up and over his head, and then quickly shoved the uniform slowly down his torso, as he yelled. They continued to bring the singlet down, exposing his snowy white sweaty jock which they left on for now, pushing the singlet down past his muscled t.h.i.g.hs, calves and past his white athletic socks then off completely.

The soiled singlet was the prize of one of the many rich men watching live video streaming - after bidding war that was only topped by bidding of the sweat soaked jock strap that Curt was still wearing. Eventually the boy would be stripped of his sweat soaked musky smelling jock once he was secured and tied to the tickle torture bench. Each of the men and Curt were panting heavily from the exertion of the fight. His jock strap was even damper with hot sweat, l.e.w.dly showing off his large mounded bulge, as he struggled to break free.

"NO F.U.C.KIN WAY NOOOOO!!! LET ME GOOO!!!! FUUUUCK YOU!!! NOOOOOO LET ME GO F.U.C.K!!!!!!" he yelled defiantly a torrent of obscenities, his body still struggling like an unbroken colt, "NOOOO SHIT GET AWAY MAN..YOU AINT DOIN THIS SHIT TO ME!!! F.U.C.K YOU!!!"

What the youth didn't know was his escape, his fighting back and his being subdued was all planned for the huge live streamed audience. They loved seeing the boy try to escape, try to fight back using the skills he had as a wrestler and athlete. It was all arranged for his audience to see him perform - though he didn't know that. The six hulking men and the Big Sam.o.a.n picked up like a baby the struggling cursing nearly n.a.k.e.d muscled Curt up from the mat, holding him tightly as they brought him out of the room, through the door he thought was an escape route - into a large room that looked like an exercise room. It was the tickle torture chamber - the same chamber where that tormented young man tied to the same bench he was being taken to was tickled tortured in that video on the screen.

"F.U.C.K NOOOOOO SHIT...LEMME F.U.C.KIN GO!!!!" he said enraged but knowing fate was sealed. He had to fight - every second delayed the horrible thing he feared most.

His mind even thought of ways to kill himself now as the frenzied hooded guys manhandled his struggling thrashing body. The hooded guys forced Curt, struggling and fighting every step of the way, across the room, as they shuffled and pulled him to a device that looked like a modified weight bench - only the bars and padding was much thicker, and the bench - really a device - was bolted to the ground. The bench was tiled upward, so that a person's body would be almost in a sitting position, but tightly restrained with most of the arms held down tightly by heavy leather sleeves bolted to the bars of the bench.

"NO NO NO NO F.U.C.K NO!!!!!!" Curt yelled and nearly went berserk trying to resist, his mind and body going into sheer terror about the tickle torturing.

He knew he was doomed but had to fight to stave off that horror.

"SHIT F.U.C.K NOOOOOOO F.U.C.K NO!!!!" Curt yelled struggling violently like a wild untamed colt.

Similar heavy leather sleeves would tightly restrain a victim's lower t.h.i.g.hs knees and upper leg, while their feet would be put into a pillory like device. A thick wide leather belt, also bolted to the bench frame, would be fastened tightly just below the boy's pecs. The result would be a helpless victim, arms restrained tightly by leather sleeve, wrists cuffed and chained tight - pointed up as if in a jumping jack position, with head and torso leaning against slightly inclined bench, with stomach and legs spread-eagled tight.

They sadistically showed him the fully padded steel bench where he would be tied tightly down at the mercy of unending tickle torture. One of the hooded men made Curt look - as he pointed out where his hands and legs would be restrained in the leather cuffed restraints bolted to the metal framed bench.

"Oooh Jesus oh my God....oh my god noooo...oh shit.." Curt whispered to himself in near panic that he tried to control. The mikes in the room could pick up even the softest sound - and captured every word of Curt's growing horror seeing how restrained and helpless his body would be - exposed to every finger everywhere.

His eyes wide with terror that he tried to hide, Curt was shown the pillory that would even lock his feet and each of his toes firmly in place and totally exposed to every type of tickle torture instrument. He was horrified. Threatening immediate tickle torture, they forced Curt eyes back toward the huge TV monitor that played a video of another handsome muscled boy - about Curt's age, straight tied to the very same bench. They told Curt he was straight hitchhiker they picked up five weeks earlier - and they played the video. Curt could see four hands tickling the boy's sides, armpits as he screamed then shrieked. On the very same bench he was now tied securely to.

"AAAAH HAHAHAHHA GOD GOD GOD..STOP STOP!!!" the tormented youth in the video screamed as fingers attacked his writhing body.

They fast forwarded the video which showed that four hours of tickle torture had past for the nearly crazed youth, with only breaks to allow the boy to recover. That recovery time was only given, Curt was told, to allow the tickle torture to resume all over again and again.

Curt could see the video of the boy - someone like him, sweat soaked, was having his feet tickled unmercifully - as the handsome young man in the video shrieked "OOOH GOD F.U.C.K STOP AHHAHHAHAHAH STOPAHAHAHAH KILL F.U.C.K KILLME F.U.C.K"