Retaliation

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Hank I

For Hank, the ball cage was probably the worst, but the combination of multiple torments that He endured left him unable to identify exactly which device was actually causing him the greatest discomfort. Tied to the heavy St. Andrews Cross with his arms and legs spread so far apart, Hank debated the question and decided that the constant tension on his s*x was probably the most hurtful. He had been there for many hours, wrists and ankles lashed to the crossed four-by-four beams, the nearly suffocating leather hood encapsulating his head, the massive pear gag stuffed in his mouth and the other things stuffed in another place that he didn't even want to think about.

Melinda made sure that he wasn't going anywhere and Hank knew his wife well enough to know that She would carry out Her most dire threats and do so with a certain sadistic enjoyment that only She possessed. Contemplating the earlier events, Hank found that even if he tried to concentrate, he was unable to get his mind away from the pain shooting up from his crotch and enveloping his stomach and torso. His head, sealed in the discipline hood, was heavy, but since the crown of the hood was chained to an overhead ring, he was unable to relax his collared neck from the forced and extended upright position.

Between his legs, the metal enclosures that held his package swung slightly back and forth each time he strained at his bonds. Melinda, as usual, had reacted in the extreme to his most recently discovered infidelity and secured his s*x so that no one and nothing would be able to use it as long as the heavy metal devices held him in their awesome grip. His balls were stuffed into a tiny, iron, clamshell-like enclosure, the tissue so compressed that sections of scrotum and skin oozed out through the small square openings in the egg-shaped metal capsule. The neck of this device was so narrow that only the thin and sensitive skin of his ball sack could possibly fit through it and the weight of the thing pulled the entire sack and its crushed contents away from his body and downward towards the polished stone floor a few feet below.

His c**k was another matter. Melinda, while fondling him lightly, jammed his already semi-hardened manhood into an articulated steel tube, ignoring his pleas and the inability of his near erection to conform to the narrow confines of the tube. But the blood engorged organ soon reduced in size when She snapped Her right forefinger smartly against this already painfully confined balls. The erection vanished. Hank’s wife then persisted in stuffing his d**k into the narrow tube and placed a thin, cable noose around the head as it exited the end of the tube. The noose, tightened and, secured to a weight, continuing to pull his now totally limp member outward through the tube. The base of the tube was welded to a clamp that looked very much like a single handcuff, although the toothed ratchet arm of the cuff was shorter than it would be on a regular handcuff. With Hank's now flaccid c**k held in the tube, Melinda slipped the single cuff around the base of his package, pressing it into the fatty flesh of his abdomen and closing it until Hank was certain that his tube-confined c**k and caged balls were being cut off.

The final indignity and last act of this torture scene was the locking down of the articulated joints on the c**k tube. Melinda bent the tube at about a ninety-degree angle, aimed the stretched c**k at the floor, tightened the wing nuts on the tube’s miniature elbows and reviewed Her work, happily patting Hank's ass before She left the cellar, secure in the knowledge that Her unfaithful husband would be unfaithful no more.

Hank's mind wandered. Up until now, with a few exceptions, he had been living extremely well. Too well. Money was no issue. His lifestyle was among that of the top one percent of the population and, while neither he nor Melinda thought they flaunted their wealth, most of the rest of the global population would have considered them to be among the very, very rich. He tried to put the recent events into some sort of sensible order. It all began when he got home on what seemed like many nights ago, but could have been, as far as he knew, only a few hours in the past.