The FSRA

The Rack

  I was awakened once again by the sound of the slide opening in my door and more dog food and water shoved in. Heaving myself around to get to the food was easier this time, but getting it in my mouth with the ring gag, and swallowing it, was still a tedious and time consuming project. I fell asleep again when done.

  The door opened, awakening me suddenly. Water sprayed in, washing me down, and cleaning some of the stench from the inside of my cell. I was pulled out and placed on a cart once again, where I received my daily injection. I was then rolled down the hallway, past many cell doors. As we rolled down the hall, I noticed small brown spots on the concrete floor... dried blood, or something like it. This place had not been in operation that long, and it was already showing signs of its use. I wondered if any of it was mine.

  Lifted up by both arms, I was dragged in to a torture cell. It was neat, clean in a hospital kind of way, as the other cells had been. Equipment in this one was a little different. It seemed cruder, less medical in form and more like farm implements. Most items I didn't recognize, though one large item caught my eye as soon as I entered. It was a table, metal, with a slight slope toward the center that ended in a drain. Just as the floors were designed for easy cleanup and drainage, this table was designed to catch body fluids and drain them below the table.

  On each end of the metal table were small round cylinders, each of which had a length of sturdy nylon rope wrapped around several times. It didn't take me long to realize what it was, and what I was in for today.

  It was a rack.

  I began to scream in fear, sweat poured from my body, and I struggled. But I was weak from the abuse of the last two days, and it was no trouble for the guards to lift me up, and tie my hands and feet to the ropes at each end of the table. I was stretched out, though not uncomfortably, and lay there waiting, shaking from the cold metal of the table on my bare flesh.

  My operator entered the room as the guards left. She was looking cuter and more erotic than ever. Instead of the black pants, she wore a black leather skirt which showed beautiful legs. Her midriff peeked out of a top which didn't quite meet the top of her skirt. Her hair was down today, and the long black silkiness framed her face and made her look softer and more inviting, especially with the hint of freckles.

  But the look on her face was businesslike, and she came over and checked my bonds to make sure I was secure.

  "I just love the rack," she purred as her hands ran over my body, checking me. "We have a variety of medieval devices around here, some of which I may be able to let you use tomorrow. But this one is really a fav of mine."

  After she was satisfied of my position and the tightness of the ropes on my extremities, she moved away for a moment. When she returned, she had the strangest thing with her, a large shiny metal sphere. She showed it to me with obvious enjoyment.

  "This is simply lovely. It goes over your head. I love the concept... you can't see and have no idea what is going to happen. And you can't hear much, either. Except..." and here she grinned, " your own screams. The spherical shape does a great job of echoing those back to you, amplifying the sound. Your world will be filled with nothing but your pain and the sound of your screams. Let's try it, shall we?"

  She opened a latch on the bottom of the sphere, slipped it over my head and then closed the latch. The world went dark, I could hear very little but my own labored breathing. She forgot to mention there was no good air supply, either, and the air got stale quickly, which increased my heart rate and breathing.

  I lay waiting, and then felt the ropes on my arms and legs begin to pull in opposite directions. It didn't hurt, as yet, but was beginning to place increasing tension on my body. I felt muscles stretch and joints align.

  The process was agonizingly slow. Each minute I was pulled a little further, which added to my discomfort slightly. I was then left to contemplate what was happening to my body and how it hurt, before the next turn stretched me a little further. Pain began shooting down my back, joining the pain in my joints. My wrists were horribly stretched and my hands were numb.

  Inside my helmet I began to involuntarily moan from the pain. In some places, like my arms and back, it felt like muscles or tendons were being stretched beyond their limit and might tear. In other places, joints felt like they were giving way and sharp pains radiated from my shoulders, some places in my back, and my hips.

  I tried not to make noise. I tried my best, even bit my tongue, but as the stretching lifted me completely off the table and my body became as taught as a rope holding a great weight, I let out my first of many screams. It echoed back to me, resounding and penetrating my head with an unexpected volume. My own scream hurt my ears. It tortured me and I screamed again as the agony in my spine spread across my back and to my chest.

  It was impossible that the human body could take this abuse, I thought. I was right, too. It couldn't. With a sudden pop, my right shoulder dislocated. My screaming became frantic, the constant stretch of the rack was tearing me apart and the bones in my shoulder were no longer holding my tendons in place. They stretched and twisted far beyond the point of holding, and I wondered if my arm would tear off.

  As I was contemplating the screaming agony in my dislocated shoulder and the agony of my screams inside the helmet, my left shoulder dislocated as well.

  Still, the stretching continued. My entire body had become one twisted, agonizing fire of pain. One of my hips would be going next, I knew it, but until then my shoulders hurt the worst. This pain was far beyond what I had experienced the day before, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing to distract me from the experience. In my dark pit the only sensation I had other than the pain was the sound of my own screams, amplified and thrown back at me.

  My hips popped out of place at the next tightening of the rack. Both, one moments after the other. My body was stretched so taught I could hardly breath, my screams were getting softer because it was almost impossible to take a breath against the crushing power of the rack stretching my body. I begged to die.

  How long I was in this state, I don't know. There was no sense of time, no light for me to see. I can't even tell if I fainted or not, I don't think so because the drugs they had injected me with were enough to keep me awake, but I don't think I would know if I had. I simply floated in a sea of pain, unmoving, the pain rippling and swirling around and inside me.

  Sensations changed after a while. The pain changed, the feeling of muscles and tendons tearing seemed to lessen, though at the same time the agony continued. After a while I realize the rack was being loosened. Firm hands gripped one leg and shoved the hip joint back in place. The other followed soon after.

  The stretching pressure continued to ease, and my shoulders were pushed back in place. The pain eased tremendously with this, though the residual effects of having my joints, muscles and tendons ripped and twisted continued for some time. Instead of screaming, I cried, the sound of my sobs echoing back at me inside the dark sphere.

  The metal sphere was removed from my head. My sobs deepened as I sucked in fresh air. My operator's long hair was hanging down in front of me as she looked down at my face from above. Her hand was gentle, soft, and the look on her face was almost loving as she wiped tears from my cheeks and cleaned the sweat with a damp cloth.

  The rack was released enough that my limbs were still held wide apart, but there was little tension left on my body. My operator lovingly cleaned my naked skin with a wet cloth, which felt wonderful in the wake of so much pain.

  My mind, my sanity, was leaving me. I could take no more. I wanted to tell her, beg for death, but with the ring gag firmly holding my mouth open, and my swollen tongue, I could do nothing but make primitive grunts and moans.

  Rest came, laying on the rack. Pain slowly subsided. My operator waited by my side, and began slowly stroking my swollen and erect penis. It must have been erect the entire time, though I didn't know it. Her gentleness now was so welcome, so desirable, I wept with joy for the rest in her company.

  After my tears stopped, she stood and walked over to a counter on the other side of the room. She returned with a thin piece of rope, and a leather folder that was zipped shut. She tied the rope around my scrotum, at the base of my testicles. Several loops of the twine were wound tightly. It cause some mild discomfort but was not too painful.

  She raised herself high to slide the rope through a pulley above, and in doing so her top slid up exposing a beautiful, flat stomach. I could feel my erection throbbing as I looked, and was not prepared for the sudden pull on the cord. It tightened around my scrotum, and then pulled upward, lifting my testicles high above me. I yelped with the sudden pain.

  She pulled hard. My hips raised up, trying to relieve the squeezing pain that was radiating from my groin. This just made her raise my testicles even higher, and soon I stopped trying to relieve the pain. I could see my poor genitalia turning purple as they were compressed by the tight cord, and I was whimpering in pain.

  My hips eventually gave out, and I could no longer keep them raised. I sank back down, and the cord pulled even more cruelly on my scrotum. The pain was radiating out across my hips, down my legs and up in to my stomach. I was getting nauseous, unable to deal with my body screaming out that something was wrong, that it was being damaged, that I needed to do something, anything to protect it. But there was nothing I could do but lay there and endure...

  My operator had left me there for a while, when she turned and opened the leather folder, examining the contents. Eventually, she selected something and turned toward me. I could see what it was through the tears in my eyes. An inch long, thin, shiny silver needle. I cried out through my ring gag, pleading, but she might as well have been deaf. My cries had no effect.

  She stood next to me, and slowly examined my scrotum, which was now a deep blueish purple and looked shiny like a balloon filled with air to the point of popping. Alternately stroking my hideously swollen erect penis and my testicles, she considered options and angles.

  Finally deciding, she positioned the needle at the top of my left testicle, pointing down. With a slow, steady movement, the needle was pressed in, piercing layer after layer of soft tissue, sticking slightly at some stiffer tissue, sliding deeper and deeper, and creating unbelievable agony as it penetrated. My screams were hysterical, panicked, and I choked on my own saliva.

  A large concave mirror was moved in to place, so that I could observe what was happening in great detail. I looked up, and saw something that bore little resemblance to what I knew as my genitalia. It looked like a large children's deep purple party balloon, except there was a needle sticking out of it.

  Another needle was produced, the same stroking, fondling and final decision on its entry point, all amplified and viewable to my eyes in the large mirror above. The needle sunk in, creating more agony, though at this point it was becoming hard to differentiate between one agony and the next. She moved it slowly in, taking several minutes until it passed completely through and the point protruded from the other side.

  She turned, selecting another needle. I wondered how many needles she was going to use, not that it mattered a lot any more. I was no longer in my right mind, and had begun alternately crying, screaming, laughing, and begging. The new needle must have been six inches long, and was twice as thick as the others.

  The familiar flowery smell of her hair shocked me as she leaned over my face, and kissed my cheek. She then returned to my testicles, positioning the needles on the side, horizontal to the floor. She was going to ram this thing through both of them.

  She began shoving, slowly but firmly. I felt like I was being castrated, slowly. The pain caused such nausea that I vomited. My mouth, forced open with the ring gag, served to collect the puke and hold it in place. I turned my head to keep from choking on my own vomit, spitting it out on to the metal table surface.

  The heavy needle had made its way through one testicle and was stuck at some stiffer tissues before entering the other one when the door to the torture cell opened.

  My operator looked annoyed, and went over to talk to the guard. I didn't hear much over my groans and yelling, but I could tell the guard was talking urgently to my operator. She in turn looked angry.

  "Yes, yes, I understand. This is shit. He is mine for another day. This will be the second time in the last two months!" I could tell she was upset.

  The guard mumbled some more, and she responded "No, I haven't done any serious or permanent damage, damnit. Thats not the point. OK. Fine. But he gets to finish his hour out. I have 15 minutes. Come back then."

  The guard left. She shut and bolted the door.

  Removing the needles went a lot faster, and hurt just as badly as when they went in. The rope pulling my testicles up was lowered and then removed, and as the blood flowed back in, the pain did too, renewing my agonies.

  I lay on the table... she had 15 more minutes... something had happened... she had 15 more minutes... I thought I was going to be taken out of there for something else, but for what? And she had 15 more minutes.

  What was she going to do with those 15 minutes?

  She moved smoothly to the other side of the room, where she took something off a table. When she returned, I saw she had a simple leather strap with a wooden handle attached at one end. I had no idea what it could be. I lay on the table, looking up at her, feeling the cold metal below me.

  The ever present hose was produced, and she sprayed me off, rinsing my vomit down the drain, along with the blood and sweat produced by the last round of torture she had bestowed on me. My body was cleaned as if I were a corpse in a mortuary.

  Then the most unusual thing happened. I remember this part more clearly than any other during my entire ordeal.

  She hiked her black leather skirt up, hooked her thumbs under black lace panties, and pulled them down, removing them. I could see between her legs, for a moment. This came as a shock to me, it was so unexpected. I was laying on the metal table, arms and legs secured above and below, recovering from the last round of agony, and my operator was doing a kind of bizarre strip tease in front of me!

  To my greater surprise, she came close to the rack, climbed up and straddled me. My hard erection felt the softness between her legs, and slid in the wetness as she leaned forward. She leaned close to my head, and bent down, threading the leather strap under my neck. The end of the strap was brought to the other end that had the wooden handle, and was tied off there. She then began twisting the handle, wich slowly tightened the leather around my neck.

  It was garrote. With her last 15 minutes, she was going to kill me. I knew it, in my soul.

  I tried to scream, but couldn't, the strap was already too tight around my neck. Breathing was very difficult, and the pressure in my head was building.

  I felt her hand on my penis, raising it up and positioning it at the entrance to her vagina. She was wet, very wet, the head of my penis had no problems sliding in. She slowly lowered herself on to me, and my penis was sinking deeper and deeper in to my torturer's body. At the point of full penetration, she twisted the garrote, increasing the choke. Breathing was almost impossible now. As I struggled, attempting to keep conscious and get some air, I could feel her sliding up and down on my incredibly hard erection. Amazing as all this was, it felt good, better than I had ever felt. She was amazing, the sensation amazing, as I felt an orgasm building just as panic rose from lack of oxygen.

  My hips thrust up with her rhythm, pressing in and out of her, soft folds of her body urging my sperm to travel through my body on its journey toward ejaculation. I wanted to come inside of her so badly, and each twist of the garrote threatened my life, my breath and my desire to squeeze and spurt my semen inside of her body.

  As my tongue swelled and protruded, my eyes bugged out and my face turned purple from the strangulation, my penis also swelled, and pressed in to her. The orgasm came as an explosion, with her pressing down hard on my hips, urging me on, urging me to dump as much as I could inside of her, the soft wetness of her body sucking my testicles dry of sperm.

  The orgasm receded, and as it did, the garrote was released. Blood flooded back in to my head, and air in to my lungs. She slowly slid up and off my penis, and took a cloth to wipe herself, as my semen was already draining out and down her leg. Climbing off of me, she kissed my forehead, then put her panties back on.

  I lay on the table, completely amazed. I thought I had lost my mind. Three days of seemingly endless and unendurable pain had just ended in the most intensely pleasurable sexual experience I had ever had.

  After more recovery time, I was sprayed off, and then untied from the rack. My body was too battered and weak to do anything by lay there as she took a strange stiff but flexible metal cable and rammed it up my ass. She inserted it deeply, perhaps 3 feet, and I could feel it penetrating deeply inside my bowels. A small black box with a couple of lights and a dial as attached to the end and then taped to my back, just above my ass.

  Guards came in, and helped put me back in to an orange jump suit. I didn't quite understand what was happening. I had experienced three days of agony, but expected a fourth. Was my sentence being terminated early? What had happened?

  Just as I was about to wheeled out of the room on the cart, my operator leaned down and kissed me long and hard. She whispered in my ear... "I didn't use birth control. I will try to let you know if we have a child. Later, dear. Perhaps in another place, another time."

  This final revelation was such a complete shock, I simply could not understand it. I lay on the cart, rolled out of the cell block, across the courtyard. My body felt completely broken. I felt completely devastated. My mind was cracking. And now... my torturer... the operator... the woman, the beautiful but deadly woman that had almost killed me... was telling me that I might have a child with her...

  The cart was rolled inside the administration building, and brought to an office door. It was the Warden's office. Known as the most sadistic and feared warden in the entire penal system, the man that presented himself to me as I was dragged in to his office appeared to be a small, geeky bureaucrat. I was dumped in a chair facing his desk.

  "Ah yes... welcome, welcome. Glad to see you. You look terrible. But then, thats to be expected I suppose. How is dear Vicki? Victoria, you know... that is your operator's name. She is amazing isn't she? Beautiful, to die for really. Though we try to avoid that."

  I still had my ring gag in, and slumped in the chair, drooling on the front of my orange jumpsuit. The warden picked up a glass jar that was full of about a pint of some white milky substance that had a strange slimy look to it.

  "Yes, yes. You see this? This is why you are here. This is yours, you know. This is all the semen collected from you yesterday. Do you see?" He held it up close to my face. "We had it tested. Its all viable, high sperm count, good quality. Can you believe it? Can you believe you produced all this?"

  I started at the jar, unable to comprehend.

  "Thats right. You! Of course, you were injected with a stimulant to help sperm production and to keep you going, erect you know. But even so, this is an incredible amount for just one day. Not too many like you. Makes you a perfect candidate."

  My bowels exploded in pain. The probe she had left up my ass had suddenly released a shock from electrodes buried deep inside me. I bent over and grunted, moaned, cried out... and then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

  "Oh come on," the Warden looked offended. "Its a good thing, no reason to react like that. Look, here is the deal. The Centers for Disease Control have a new program going, its cloning really, they don't call it that, but that’s what it really is. But... they need sperm. A lot of it. Viable sperm, to use in their development and research. The potential... it’s incredible. But they need volunteers."

  The Warden looked at me from behind his desk as he set the jar full of my sperm on his desk. "OK. So here is the deal. You have one more day of torture coming. Its yours, we can't back out of it unless you agree, and you can't back out unless we agree. So... if we both agree, we will cancel the last day. You get sent off on this other program instead. Trust me, much, much more comfortable than here. Good medical care, three square meals, air conditioned, clean sheets, and..." here he laughed, "as many orgasms as you can handle in a day."

  "So, what do you say? Do you want me to send you back to Vicki?"

  I shook my head, unable to speak because of the ring gag, but making it very, very clear I did not want to go back to "Vicki".

  "Well then... lets just sign the documents, and we can have you on your way tonight! Here they are!" He indicated some papers on his desk.

  As I reached out to sign, my bowels exploded in pain again... I grunted... doubled over... my hands were chained to my waist, but I managed to get up and sign the papers... and the pain left as suddenly as it had come.

  "Excellent, excellent. Lets get that gag off you, eh?" The warden reached out, and unstrapped the ring gag that I had worn for the last three days. My jaw wouldn't close at first. "Don't worry, don't worry, you will be fine... that will wear off in a couple days. Well... we may not see each other, so... enjoy your new position as a professional sperm producer!"

  He shook my chained hand, and then called for the guards who came in and dragged me out. The probe inside my ass fired off again, doubling me over in pain, so the guards put me on the cart and wheeled me out.

  I was on my way to a new life as a sperm producer, whatever that was. It didn't really matter. As long as I didn't have to return to the gentle care of "Vicki".