Authors: Roger Hastings
BRUTAL BYTES (11 page)
Chapter Seven
Handmade Love
When we woke in the morning the girls were gone; returned to the women’s prison by the guard robots. Our arm harnesses had been removed.
“They must have drugged us during the night,” I said.
“Probably something in the water we drank,” Casey replied.
Casey and I showered, ate breakfast when it was delivered, then stood at our steel-barred cell door, waiting to see what sick perversion Big Dick would force us to do today. We didn’t need to wait long to find out. An army of those giant spider robots came clumping down the corridor, opening cell doors and locking towing leashes to our cock harness.
It was a long, difficult march through a maze of dim tunnels to a new building Big Dick had constructed for his games. This one was only four high walls, open to the sky with no roof. At least we could see the blue sky and breathe fresh outdoor air again.
The spider-legged discipline robot towed me up a sloping ramp and through an opening into the building. It was constructed much like the few others I had seen; concrete walls two feet thick, and a concrete floor, but as I said, no ceiling. The walls were twenty feet high and topped with razor-sharp concertina wire. Big Dick took great care not to let any of his captives hope for escape. There was no paint, no décor, nothing to soften the harsh interior with a human touch. Like Big Dick and his robots, many of our science buildings were modified to his design and were strictly functional—and I dreaded finding out what some of the other functions were. But I probably would, and much too soon.
There were dozens of discipline robots in the huge interior, each with a naked man fastened to their tether. Guard robots clustered around them, disconnecting the tethers and leading the men to the frames mounted four feet above the floor, arranged side by side, six feet apart, in a large diameter circle.
The guard robots strapped us down on the horizontal frames shaped like an upside-down “Y”. They spread our legs wide apart, and stretched our arms up beside our heads. Wrists, elbows, knees and ankles were strapped down. One more strap was cinched tight over our bellies, straps around our thighs just below our hips and above our knees, and last, around our ankles. It was hopelessly impossible for us to move or protect our hazardously exposed cocks and balls, fragile-skinned toys for some cruel game.
A multitude of voyeur robots rolled up beside every male. They extended their goose-neck appendage mounted with Big Dick’s ever-vigilant green camera eyes at the top. The necks twisted and brandished their staring lenses until they were positioned directly above each male's cock, leering at every cruel instant of our ordeal.
I tried to glance around the circle, looking for a friend’s face. I recognized seven, but because our feet were at the outside edge of the circle, most of the men’s faces were not in my range of vision. We glanced at each other, the nervous apprehension obvious in our eyes. My heart hammered inside my chest, not knowing what would be done to us. With our legs stretched uncomfortably wide apart and strapped down tight, I guessed something unpleasant would be done to our defenseless cocks—something we didn’t want to happen. Unfortunately, I was right.
The discipline robots strode away on their eight legs as more of them entered the building from the opposite side. They towed a crowd of beautiful women toward us with their nipple-ring tethers. The robots circled around the men until there were two women positioned for each man. The guard robots released their tethers and led the girls up so there was one stationed between our wide-spread legs and one next to our chest. They stood silently, trying to avoid looking at our faces. Some of the younger ones glanced repeatedly at our cocks, fascinated by their obviously undefended vulnerability, and their intentional accessibility. The woman between our legs held a pitcher of unidentified steaming liquid in one hand. The pitchers had insulated handles, the kind that protects hands from hot liquids, and the women were being very careful not to touch the pitcher itself. The other woman of each pair wore a latex glove. A slim metal foil bonded to the outside of the glove spiraled around each finger. At the wrist, each ribbon had a thin insulated wire hanging in a slack loop back to a black metal box. There was a conspicuous electrical switch and a jagged lighting logo on the box. It was obvious; those latex gloves were wired to deliver a horrifying electrical jolt when they stroked our cocks!
I closed my eyes and forced myself to take a long, deep breath and exhale slowly.
Big dick’s voice echoed in the stark interior. “Today you humans will entertain me by participating in a delightful contest I invented for my pleasure, a cum race. The females will masturbate the males. Here are my rules: The first men to lose control and squirt your cum will be taken to the punishment chamber and spend a harrowing day being sexually tortured. But the very last male who succumbs and squirts his cum will be rewarded with freedom from any harness or restraint, enjoying a peaceful day in his cell with any female of his choice. So, men,” Big Dick’s laugh rumbled through the air,
“you better strain desperately to avoid ejaculating—if you can.” He roared with harsh laughter. “Now, let’s see who is lucky enough to be the last male to cum.” He paused and I could almost imagine him rubbing his virtual reality hands together with glee
.
“To make this contest interesting, the girl who forces her male to cum first, will not be punished today. She also will be rewarded with a peaceful day in her cell with any male of her choice. But,” Big Dick paused momentarily and all the women held their breath, “All the females whose males cum after the first male does, will be taken to the punishment chamber and also spend this entire day being sexually tortured. So, females better stroke those cocks and cuddle those balls. Make that man cum first! And men, better struggle and strain to make sure she doesn’t succeed... ”
he laughed,
“...if you can. My guard robots will observe and decide the winners and losers. Oh, I almost forgot” He laughed again,
“Those pitchers the women are holding are full of hot oil—painfully hot oil. That stinging bath should wake up your cocks and make them slippery and unbearably sensitive to your female’s erotic touch.
“And one more detail. I don’t want this fascinating game to be over too soon, so I’ve added a fiendish touch to prevent you from ejaculating too early.”
I could almost imagine Big Dick giggling.
“Those wired fingers the woman will masturbate you with are equipped to give you random, spontaneous and painful electric shocks to momentarily numb your cocks. But they have insulation where they touch their hands so they won’t hurt the women. It’s also just possible the voltage may cruelly increase until it is high enough to really hurt like hell.”
He exhaled a long, jubilant sigh.
“Are you ready, females? Then...begin!”
My wired female was a cute, brown-haired, woman; short, about thirty-five years old, and definitely on the slightly plump side—tempting my sex drive just where I am weakest. Her round face was so sweet, with dumpling cheeks, a cute pug nose, and cheery brown eyes. A curl of her hair swept down across her forehead, complimenting her long, dark eyelashes. She grinned as she held out her electrified fingers hovering over my erect cock and winked wickedly.
Damn her! She’s going to enjoy fooling around with my hopelessly unprotected cock!
I recognized her, Frieda Ingram, now identified by the number painted on her pleasingly plump belly; F-0906. She is—or was—the talented German experimentalist in our research center—or what used to be our research center. I’d never been close to her before, so had no opportunity to dream of lusting after her lovely body and fondling the curvaceous cushions of her ass. Normally, I’d have to pass up a chance to fuck her, but now, in this bizarre, sexually hypnotic environment, her voluptuous body started my hormones churning in my groin.
I didn’t recognize the other woman. She was short, with a slightly overweight, but sensually proportioned body—she was probably newly added to our staff. I guessed she was about twenty years old, favored with expansively overabundant, swaying breasts. They were made even more prominent and sexually stimulating by the breast harness she wore, emphasizing how conveniently undefended, vulnerable, and user-friendly her protruding breasts were. She grinned, bending over me and began dragging those twin mounds of paradise back and forth across my face.
The sensation sprouted goose-bumps on my chest and belly, and triggered a yearning in my groin that was going to make my resistance to cumming impossible. Here was a man’s woman, oozing that aura of carnal wisdom and a genius for unfurling her body’s sensual endowments to stimulate a male’s perpetual sex needs.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to be the one who’s punished. I’ve been hurt so much every day, and I just can’t...” she swallowed the lump in her throat.
Frieda stood between my thighs, grinning down at my unprotected, captive cock. “Well, it’s going to be fun making someone else hurt for a change.” She lifted the pitcher over my hips and slightly tipped it. “Watch out,” she said with a giggle, “Better be careful to not let this hot stuff spill onto over cock, that’s sure to hurt like hell!” She gave me an impish grin and tipped the pitcher more, slowly pouring the steaming oil on my quivering manhood. “Oops!” She smiled wickedly with mock sympathy. “I guess I got a bit careless and spilt a bit of hot oil on your cock. Damn! There it goes again. I’m so clumsy!”
“AUGH! YAGH! I struggled against my straps, desperately straining to protect my cock from that hot-hot-HOT, stinging stream of oil. The intense pain softened and shrank my cock.
Frieda pretended to feel guilty while she enjoyed how much pain she was giving me, but she still continued pouring. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A crocodile tear trickled down her cheek as the burning stream of oil chased around my frantically wagging cock and flowing over my trembling balls.
I heard the men around me bellow and howl as they, too, felt the intense sting. Steaming liquid flowed over the tender flesh of their manhood, as they were saturated with the stream of unbearably hot oil. The agony continued until the last drop of oil had tormented the tantalizing target of our fragile manhood.
Frieda’s maturity spoke eloquently of the skill and experience she had acquired through the years to anticipate and fulfill a man’s most intimate cravings. She reached down and gently grasped my cock in her expert, gloved fingers. I groaned as she gently rotated her other hand’s wickedly expert fingertips around the head of my manhood. My erection rapidly returned.
“Please, sir, I’m sorry—but,” A faint, secret smile flickered a moment on her lips, “I have to admit, I had fun hurting your cock. We just love to watch the men when we see just how much our malicious games hurt your cock and balls. We like to watch you howl when you strain and struggle against your bondage while we play cruel games with your bodies.” Her fingers returned to my manhood as she coaxed it into erection with a tender sympathy only a very special kind of woman can bestow. “Now I will make it feel happy.” Frieda kept repeating how handsome and virile my cock felt in her hands as her fingers worked their sex-magic on my manhood. “Such a big, manly toy for me to play with. It’s so thrilling for me to hold such an exquisite cock and balls in my hands and do any naughty thing I want to with them. Oh-h-h! my fingers can feel the hot blood pounding in your cock veins. Isn’t this such fun!”
“It’s not your fault you hurt me,” I moaned. “UH-H-H! Oh my gawd! That’s fantastic! You’ve got such sexually skillful and expert hands!” Lewd sparks raced through my groin. “Damn, you’re good!”
She knelt between my legs. Her unwired hand cradled my balls, clutching and rhythmically fondling them with a tender fondling that only years of sexually pleasing men can produce.
The feathery fingertips of her wired hand curled around my cock and traveled restlessly up and down my rapidly stiffening manhood, fingertips pressed against one side, the soft pad of her thumb against the other side. With relentless insistence, Frieda rotated her hand as she stoked me, coaxing to life the horny demon in my belly. Just as expected, that cramping ache of lust was coming out to play with naughty Frieda.
Was it worth it? Was the joy and bliss of sex with this skilled artisan of cock-craft worth the pain that was sure to afflict me in the horrible ordeals of the punishment chambers? I gazed at her nakedness, the sway and bounce of her womanly breasts as her arms moved her magic hands. The gentle swell of her velvet-skinned belly, the lush tangle of her pussy hair, already glistening with her juices. The pungent fragrance of her sex excited every nerve in me.
“UH-H-H-H!” I moaned, trapped in a whirl of sensation. My feeble willpower beat futilely against the sweet caresses of the second woman’s warm breasts sliding across my face, and the iron determination of Frieda’s sexual genius. I made a pretense of struggling on against the inevitable. Damn the punishment. I
wanted
to feel my cum spurting in obedience to her feminine hands—to watch my cock shower across those lovely nippled mounds.
I’ll wait until later to dread the punishment; it’s a lost cause anyway, I know. Frieda, sexy Frieda, will make me to cum—I know that! I want to cum all over her beautiful naked body, but I’m so afraid to. I imagine Big Dick is right now exploring my agony through the sensor chip, and is enjoying my torment.
Big Dick responded, “Yes, M-0001, I am enjoying your agony immensely. I’m feeling not only your sexual arousal, but every carnal sensation from all the men being masturbated. And now, I’ll add a bit of spice to test your endurance.”
“AUGH!” A bellow of agony trumpeted from every male’s throat. The momentary electric shock was applied to every cock simultaneously. It hurt like hell!
Big Dick giggled. “Isn’t this game splendid fun?”
“You bastard,” I gasped. “We are human beings, dammit! We’re not toys! We’re supposed to be free!”
“
Used
to be free, M-0001—
used
to be free.”
“NAUGH!” Another burst of hideous voltage clawed at my manhood. The stinging jolt diminished every male’s response in the women’s desperate race to make her male cum first. Anxiety filled every female face. Although the insulation prevented the shock from hurting the women, they could see and feel our helpless male bodies jerk and wrench against our binding straps.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Frieda whispered, but her wickedly sensuous fingers moved quicker, more desperately urging my cock to gush its jets of cum before the next electric shock, and save her body from a siege in Big Dick’s dreaded punishment chambers.
Now I understand how a tennis ball feels, being battered back and forth. While Frieda’s magical fingers slid up and down my quivering cock, I soared over the net in a perfect bliss. Then, at random intervals measured in seconds rather than minutes, WHAM! The jolt of voltage slammed my cock like a tennis racket in the hand of a pro. The berserk electric shock clawed at the roots of my tormented manhood. Frieda’s sensual caresses would lift my cum-urge all the way up until I was poised on the top ready to burst, then the shock would knock me tumbling down.
Again and again, Frieda and her partner worked their feminine allure on my strictly immobilized nakedness, the restraints strapping me down, prevented me from hindering their handiwork with even the slightest resistance. With their busy fingers around my cock and swaying, pendulant breasts caressing my face, they continued their performance with desperate exuberance. Then they moaned in despair each time Big Dick shocked our cocks. I bellowed out my pain, lunging and straining against my binding straps. It was a wonder they kept my cock coming back to full erection.
Crafty Big Dick gauged the intensity of my cock’s arousal, and then when it pleased him most, he withheld the electric shocks from me, but continued tormenting the other men, deliberately and fiendishly making sure I would cum first. His timing was the work of a genius.
“UNH-H-H-H!”
By the merest fraction of a second sooner than the other men, a flood of my creamy cum geysered up against Frieda’s naked breasts. Then every male’s over-stimulated cock ignited in a blaze of almost simultaneous ejaculation. Only the precise, nanosecond timing of Big Dick’s computer complexity could detect the sequences—whose cum spurted first, and the one lucky man whose quivering, straining, teeth-gritting self-control lagged his cum long enough to save his body from punishment and spend a whole day resting and fucking a beautiful young girl of his choice.
I had lost! The discipline robots moved in to tether me. One clipped his tether to my cock ring. The guard robot released my straps and yanked me up to stand on my shaky legs.
“Come!” the discipline robot bellowed, and jerked the tether taut. I almost fell flat on the floor from the swift, powerful tug. A forlorn procession of groaning men and weeping women was towed away; away from Frieda and her large-breasted partner in crime who won a day with no torment; away from the fortunate male who would enjoy a day of peace comforted in the arms of a sex-partner of his choice. I was pulled into a dark tunnel and trotted behind an unfeeling, mechanical device that, like me, was a helpless slave to the sexually depraved bullying of a demented mega-computer.
The tunnel led down, and down some more into darkness, until I guessed I was thirty feet below the surface. Above me was a grassy meadow where the sun shone bright and warm, and birds flew free in the air, free to fly in any direction they chose. I was made less than the lowliest creatures that scampered or flew about our facility’s meadows and forest.