By Mister-X / Spartan

After that middle of the night conversation, nothing out of the ordinary happened for a week. I’d been taken back to the gym for my exercises, and had started getting my body back into proper condition. Then one day there was a change. The three guards came into my room again, including the one who had visited me. I was soon being marched, restrained as always, to another room.

I was sat down on a metal chair which had straps attached, and was soon restrained tightly to it. Another man entered the room. The three guards were positioned at the back. My blindfold and gag were removed. When he started speaking I recognized the voice who had addressed all of us. I realized then that this had been a test.

“Number 6, I am disappointed in you. You were visited by one of my guards with a story to test your loyalty to me, and you didn’t report the conversation. Why?”

“I wasn’t ever given an opportunity to report it.”

“You could have reported it to the guards when they came to pick you up.”

“But one of them was the guy who fed me that story.”

“You could have reported it to the gym instructor.”

“How did I know where his loyalty lay?”

The leader thought about this, and turned to the guard. “It seems our little test was flawed. You can return Number 6 to his room.” I was blindfolded and gagged again, released from the chair, and marched back to my room. I was not at all impressed with this test they had administered. I wondered how much imagination these guys had. That’s when I wondered whether the story might be true, in addition to being a test.

The days continued to pass, the only variation being the visits to the gym. I was given exercises to do while in my room as well, and these helped pass the otherwise boring days. Finally I was taken to the cell again to perform the function that I specialized in. I was restrained as I’d become accustomed to being, without the blindfold, and awaited the first prisoner. I was surprised to still be in the same kind of uniform I had been in before, and was surprised to find the first prisoner brought into the cell was also in the same kind of uniform.

As before, I was gagged and he was not. He was an older guy with lots of medals on his uniform. I was beginning to suspect that the story that had been told to me was true.

As before, I made no attempt to start any communication, being gagged, and waited for him to remove my gag. It took him a while to adjust to the situation he found himself in, to finally notice me, to recognize how I was restrained, to decide how he was to make use of me, and to finally remove my gag so he could. This was all the normal thought processes of any prisoner brought into my cell.

We had the usual conversation. “Why am I being brought here?” was the way it usually started, and also did in this case. But his answer of why didn’t correspond with the usual. He said “I’m here to get me out of the way so I could be discredited with false information being planted. It’s all part of Major Ashley’s plan to take over this unit.” That gave me more concrete information about our leader’s plans.

I responded with the usual bit about volunteering to cooperate, or having to be subjected to torture. His response was “they can torture me all they want. I’ll never cooperate with Major Ashley. He’s a madman.”

I started going into detail about the types of torture that Number 7 administered, and noticed the guy’s face start to lose color as he started to sweat. When I’d finished he asked, “have you had to go through that?”

“Yes.”

“That Ashley is such a madman. He knows that all that is illegal, that if news of that got out he’d be put in prison. That must mean that I’ll never be able to escape this place. I’ve got to find some way to get word of this out to the proper authorities.”

I didn’t know what to think or say. I was doing my job as best I could, but I didn’t like the side that I was doing it for. I also had to think about my own skin, knowing that if I cooperated with this guy that I would be putting myself into the same position that the prisoners would be in. Then I wondered whether this was yet another test of my loyalty. It was indeed a more sophisticated test than that previous clumsy one had been. But what sort of test would it be for me, restrained here in the cell, gagged, unable to communicate to anyone other than this fellow prisoner? That’s when I realized that this couldn’t be a test.

I went on, “I’m sure you have information that they want to have. That’s going to be why you will be tortured if you don’t voluntarily provide it to them.”

The guy thought about this, and finally said, “I’ll provide them with information. Guards! I’m ready to talk!”

That sounded like he had no intention of providing them with accurate information. I figured the best way I could help thwart Major Ashley’s plans was to say nothing about my belief of the accuracy of the information this guy was going to provide. When the guards came and took him away, they just returned my gag and blindfold and lay me back down on the bed. No one asked me for my opinion, which suited me fine.

After a couple of days, I was taken to that room with the chair again and strapped to it. I again wondered whether that had been a more elaborate test of my loyalty. When my gag and blindfold were removed, there was Major Ashley again. “What is your opinion as to the accuracy of the information that the last guy has given us?”

This was the key question I had been dreading being asked. I decided to hedge my answer. “It’s difficult to say. It could be accurate or it could be faked. My job was to just get him to voluntarily talk. Don’t you have specialists in getting the information, checking his body’s reactions when giving it to see whether he’s telling the truth, like a lie-detector set, and checking the truthfulness of the information with the individuals? Such specialists would have a more accurate reading than I would.”

This caused Major Ashley to think. He finally said, “Yes, you’re right. We got the information all right, you men did your jobs. But the specialists that we had for determining accuracy knew this guy, and decided that their loyalties lay with him more than with me.”

“How did you determine that?”

“Because they refused to participate. The fear of the torture could have caused him to voluntarily give accurate information. What was your reading of whether that could be true?”

I knew they recorded those sessions. “He was fearful of the torture. But again, whether he was fearful enough to cause him to give accurate information is not my area of expertise.”

“If you were to guess, what would you say?”

“Strictly as a guess, I would say that the information would be accurate. But again, I’m not an expert. You need to get replacements who are and ask them.” I had decided to try to mislead Major Ashley, but I didn’t want to be committed to this answer so I wouldn’t get into trouble.

“I expected as much. I’ll do that, delaying acting on it until I can get some experts in. Thank you for the wise advice. Is there anything I can do to reward you? Do you enjoy being restrained or tortured? I heard that you reacted when Number 7 demonstrated some techniques using you as his prisoner.”

My response was to get red in the face. Major Ashley noticed this, and just said, “I see. I’ll arrange something with Number 7.” His instructions were to replace my gag and blindfold as he left.

I was kept restrained in that chair with three guards in the room. They would periodically come over to me and test the restraints as I would be adjusting myself in the chair, sometimes being able to tighten one of the straps.

Soon I heard the door open and someone walk in. “Ah, Number 6. It’s good to see you again.” I immediately recognized the voice as Number 7. “I’ve been ordered to pleasure you as I did in our demonstration session. It will be difficult to do that with you restrained in this chair. However, there was one technique which seemed to do the trick. I’ve decided to show you a variation on this.”

My blindfold and gag were removed. I felt a hood being placed over my head. I recognized the material as rubber. It was pulled tight, zipped in the back, with strings pulled tight, stretching the rubber so that it was tightly encasing my head. There were two little pinholes at the nostrils, which were the only places where I could get air. The hood was so tight and tough that I couldn’t open my mouth.

My pants were unzipped and my cock was brought out. It was already leaking pre-cum, and was starting to get hard. I felt a condom being placed on it.

Finally a plastic bag was placed over my head with a cord tied around my neck over the bag, cutting off my air supply. The bag was initially ballooned out, but as the air would get sucked into my lungs and I exhaled, the bag would shrink and shrink, getting closer and closer to my head. Finally the bag was clinging to my head and I was thrashing around trying to get some air. My cock started erupting into the condom.

At this point two pinholes were poked into the bag at the place where my nostrils would breathe air. I wasn’t able to get much air into my lungs, but I was able to get enough to prevent my passing out. The combination of the rubber hood, the exertions, and the plastic covering was causing my head to sweat profusely. My cock had shrunk down.

Suddenly I found another bag being placed over my head and tied at the neck. The whole process of not having air to breathe, followed by the bag shrinking and shrinking, followed by thrashing around trying to get some air was gone through again. I noticed my cock having gotten hard again. Just as I was getting light-headed and was about to pass out, holes were again poked through this bag and my cock erupted again into the condom. That was the quickest I had ever erupted a second time.

Number 7 started checking all my restraints. He tightened my cuffs until they were cutting into my wrists. He yanked each of my straps as tight as he could get them. After he had done this he checked my cock and found that it had started getting hard yet again. “Excellent! I’m going to enjoy pleasuring you. You are a hard-core bondage pig. I’ll be back later to up things some more. Guards, periodically stroke his cock to get him further aroused, but don’t let him climax.”

After he left the room, the guards remaining, I was wondering what had happened. I’d never experienced anything like this before.

Was I really a bondage pig? Number 7 thought that I was.

As the minutes passed I noticed that my head was sweating a lot. The sweat was starting to get into my eyes as well as into my nostrils. I was having to blow liquid out of my nose. This was causing me some irritation, and my cock was starting to deflate. One of the guards came over and started stroking it to get it hard again.

This went on for some time. Finally while the guard was again stroking my cock to get it hard the door opened and Number 7 was back. He had a belt which he used to wrap around my arms above my elbows, yanking them closer together. This caused my chest to stick out more than before. He opened my tunic above my chest and put clamps on my nipples. I yelled into my rubber hood when those were placed. Soon there was another plastic bag put over my head which was tied off by a cord around my neck. The whole process was repeated, with my cock shooting off yet again.

My condom was removed, but replaced with another before my pants were zipped back up. Number 7 told the guards to release me from the chair and to take me back to my cell, but the bags, belt above my arms, and tit clamps were kept on. I was marched back while having those on, and was lain down on the bed, the additional restraints added like usual. My cuffs were loosened so that I could get some circulation back into my wrists.

The hood and bags were at last removed for me to eat, replaced with gag and blindfold as before. But the other gear was kept on. Soon another prisoner was brought to my cell. I couldn’t see who this guy was, since I was blindfolded. The same process was gone through as before. Finally the guy removed my gag, but not my blindfold.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“About three months” I answered truthfully.

“I notice they have clamps on your nipples. Is that some kind of torture?”

“Yes, it’s to keep me in pain.”

“Do they torture people here?”

“Yes. They do it to get them to talk.”

“Have they done it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell them what they wanted to hear?”

“Eventually.” It was my first lie.

“They must be very good at it.”

“They seem to be. The guy tests all kinds of ways to see which works best at getting a guy to talk.”

“What worked best on you?”

“It was more the fear of what he told me he was going to do to me that worked. He put me into a strappado position, hanging me off my feet by my wrists behind my back, telling me he was going to apply electricity on my sensitive parts, like my nipples, cutting off my breath in various ways, testing my reaction to various kinds to find out which got me most fearful.”

“Oh, me. I consider myself to be a strong man, well trained to combat torture techniques, but I know that I won’t be able to stand up to a well-trained administrator of that.”

“It’s either that or voluntarily tell them what they want to know to avoid that.”

“I know. I guess I’ll have to do the cowardly thing, and let that monster Ashley have what he wants. Guards! Tell that son-of-a-bitch I’ll talk to him now!”

The guards came, and this time I could hear Major Ashley himself. “So, Colonel Meyer, have you decided to let me take over your unit?”

“Yes, you bastard. Let’s go take care of the arrangements.”

It was only then that I realized that I had been talking to the leader of that branch of the military. I couldn’t believe it. I had just helped convince the leader of that branch of the military to voluntarily abdicate his position. My gag was put back in and I was left as I was to think about what I’d just done.

The next day I was released from my cell and taken back to my room. All the restraints were removed from me, including the condom and the tit clamps. I was soon back to doing my gym exercises again.

The following day we were all called in to the big room for another group meeting. Major Ashley addressed us as usual. “Men, we have succeeded in rooting out the cancer from the top of this military unit. I now command it. I am keeping this special unit together to make use of your unique skills. Your work is not done yet. For those of you who do not know, this unit is the one for Internal Security. We have not only the right but also the responsibility of making sure that all military staff are loyal, and we will be expanding our operations to achieve this. I want to thank all of you for your efforts, since I couldn’t have succeeded in accomplishing this without you.” We were returned to our rooms.

We were soon brought back together again for a group meeting, all escorted as we always were, though this time without our blindfolds. Major Ashley addressed us. “Men, I expect you all know Number 7. He is now going to be overseeing the next phase of the change of command. With any change, there will be men who were loyal to the previous commander and who are not loyal to the new one. Numbers 8, 11 and 13 are professionals at questioning and determining who tells the truth. They will be testing each of the holdovers. Those who are not willing to be loyal to me will be turned over to Number 7 for his experimentation so he can learn from the various techniques used. This is expected to be a large number, and others of you will be needed to help him. Any of you who wish to join this group need to contact Number 7.”

I had realized that the next step was to weed out the disloyal members of the unit and replace them with loyal members. I had half expected that all of us members of this special unit will be given plum assignments. All I could do was to wait and see what mine would be, if any. And I wondered what Major Ashley meant when he said that they would be learning from the torture techniques.

Number 7 came up to me after the meeting and said, “With this change in focus your role will change temporarily. Your skills will not be needed for interrogation. I have a number of guys who I can use to demonstrate to the new members of my unit what needs to be done. But they will need someone who is on our side who is willing to be tortured and will be passing on an evaluation of how they did. That will be your new assignment. It will be more intense than our previous demonstration. You will need to be kept restrained and available at all times.”

As I thought about this I realized that my life was suddenly going to be made a lot more painful. I also knew that my cock was going to be getting some pleasure from it. I was just going to have to make the best of it that I could. I was told to go to the classes that Number 7 was teaching so I could see first-hand the types of torture that would be practiced on me by the students so I could evaluate their ability. I learned when these were to be held. Until they started I had no role to play. I was soon allowed to return to my room, and was free to go to the gym whenever I wanted to do so. I was no longer kept restrained when moving around the facility. Until the classes started the gym was about the only activity I had, so I spent most of my time there. I still needed to get my body back in shape.

When it was time for Number 7’s classes to start I was escorted there. He began in the large lecture hall where I had first been tortured by him. One of the guys who had been held prisoner because he was not loyal to Major Ashley was there on the table. Number 7 began. From where I was I found it difficult to see and listen to what Number 7 did, but I noticed that his students were keeping rapt attention. I started counting how many students were there, and was shocked to see that there were about 100. I then realized that Major Ashley wasn’t just going to be testing military staff members’ loyalty to the Government. He was going to be testing their loyalty to him personally. He wanted to use us to take over the entire military.

I was getting more concerned about my role in helping him do this. I started thinking about what I could do to prevent this without jeopardizing myself. It wasn’t easy to keep my attention focused on a heavy subject like that, since there would periodically be loud screams from the guy who was being tortured. Those would get me to switch my concentration to what was being done and how I was supposed to evaluate the students when they’d start doing the same to me. I finally had to quit thinking about Major Ashley’s plans and start thinking about what I was going to soon be experiencing. The more this class continued, the more I wasn’t liking this new role I was going to have to play in helping Number 7 train his students.

 

To be continued …