By BondageChallengeGames

I screamed into my gag. The electrodes on my thighs sent sharp shocks that made my legs tense up. They came without warning and pattern, an irregular cycle that made it impossible for me to ever relax or predict when the next shock would come.

With the tens unit running by itself, Andrew was free to hurt me in other ways. He flogged my stomach and chest again, whipping skin still sensitive from the duct tape strip he had just ripped off. He put the nipple clamps back on, attached with a chain that he pulled in between flogging me. It was overwhelming, I couldn’t focus on anything except the pain. I tried everything to speak, to tell him the code and end it, but I couldn’t make any meaningful sound through the gag, let alone go long enough without yelling in pain.

Eventually my body wore out of fighting. I want as limp in the bonds as I could for standing upright. With each electric shock and smack of the flogger I would flinch and jolt weakly, but any struggle I had left in me was worn out of me.

Andrew must have noticed this, because he yanked the clamps and one of the strips of duct tape off of my chest. As I hung there, breathing heavily, he rifled through his bag. He pulled out a swim cap and brought it to my face.

I shook my head, shouted mumbled pleas, and fought my restraints with renewed vigor. He placed the swim cap over the front of my head, forming a seal that kept air from coming in. I held out for as long as I could, conserving my energy. Eventually though, my body’s need for air overpowered my exhausting, and I struggled desperately.

Only right when was sure I’d pass out, when every cell in my body screamed out for air, did Andrew take the swim cap off. Air flooded through my nose and a wave of relief swept over me. I panted, filling my lungs as much as I could. And then he put the swim cap back on.

Over and over, Andrew cut off my air just long enough for me to suffer the pain and desperation that proceeds suffocation. I knew that he wouldn’t let me suffocate or pass out, but my body still treated every breath control cycle like it was life and death. I couldn’t relax, couldn’t get used to the torture. The terrifying part was, with no physical harm coming to me, I could endure it, at least physically. He could do this to me as long as he’d like.

My thoughts began melting away, my vision unfocused. I breathed when I could, and struggled when I couldn’t. I sank into subspace. A feeling I coveted so much when free that I willingly put myself into these positions. As much as I desperately wanted out now, I knew that after a few days I’d once again crave this feeling and let myself be tied again.

He started whipping me while he cut off my air. Each hit made me breathe faster, which ran through the air in the cap faster and made the intervals of my suffocating cycles shorter and more intense. He added nipple clamps, but with everything else going on I could barely feel them. I’d fully missed that he’d turned off the tens unit, until without warning he cranked it up and zapped my thighs with a powerful sustained shock that made my leg muscles tense up.

For those thirty horrible minutes Andrew turned my own body against me. My mind was dragged along by distress signals from my lungs, involuntary tensing from the shocks, and pain I couldn’t escape all along my chest.

He finally stopped and undid the gag. I panted, my whole body quivered. My arms were so sore, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into a ball on the floor.

“Well Kyle,” Andrew said, “now you have a little preview of what will happen if you lie to me again. I will ask you one more time, what’s the code?”

There was a tiny, horny, masochistic voice in my head that told me to give him the wrong code. This was, by far, the most intense and exciting interrogation scene we’d ever done. I knew good and well that in the days and weeks to come I’d think back on how hot this was. I’d want more.

Fueling that self-destructive thought was my dick, still rock hard. With the other tortures over, I was once again aware of the gentle vibrating ring that kept me on edge.

Despite my love of bondage and pain, despite my sexually charged want for more, reason won out. Some combination of my aching muscles, my exhausted lungs, the spent adrenaline, the fear of Andrew’s wrath, and the need for both physical and sexual release made me tell him the code. The real code.

He walked toward the box. I finally relaxed, ready for this to be over. He tried the code.

“You little bitch.”

My head perked up. I stretched as much as my bonds would let me. I saw past him to the box. It was still locked.

“Oh, you piece of shit,” Andrew said as he turned around and started walking toward me. The code, the right code, hadn’t worked.

“Wait, Andrew. Please. Somethings wrong. I gave you the right code. I promise. Please Andrew, I’m not lying.”

He walked toward me, picking up the gag as he approached.

I thrashed around, yelling at this point.

“Andrew, you have to trust me! Please I can’t take this anymore! I gave you the right code!”

Andrew grabbed my hair, he pulled on my head to force the gag back in. It was right then that I realized what happened. With the last coherent sentence I would get before being gagged, I shouted:

“Tom changed the code!”

To be continued …