5. Losing patience
When the hell had they brought him inside? How had they dragged him back deep into these dungeons without him knowing?
One moment he had been stuck in excruciating agony .. spread out under the sun .. drained of strength … his willpower being dragged out of him through his balls. The next he was back in the dungeons .. shivering in the chill. And he had known nothing? Felt nothing. Remembered nothing. Slaps across his face had brought him back round. Blows with the flat of the hand had maliciously slung his head around to one side .. cruelly waking Conan back to his agonies. Stinging slaps. Bitter tears of pain filled his eyes.
“Fuck you. Motherfucking whores.”
The croaked curses from a parched throat were barely understandable. Burst from the shocked depths of Conan’s guts. But enough to announce that he was conscious. Conan’s way of telling these arseholes they could stop knocking him about .. he was back. He had come-to, a barbarian to the core.
The pricks got the message, the slapping stopped. Conan was back with them again, conscious, barbaric emotions overwhelming him. But in almost the same split second Conan regretted his return. He growled, a feral snarl born of not knowing what was going on. Growling at the grinding ache digging up between his legs. But different from the agonies of that bucket swinging off his nuts. Intense .. but in a different way. His barbaric nature growled in a mixture of fear and anger at another unknown attack on his fuck-tackle. Grinding. Digging in. He did not bother to disguise his pain. Too far gone and too much in a whirl of anger and animal fears to bother. Conan snarled. That fucking grinding ache in-between his legs. Again going for the balls that their fucking bucket of rocks had tortured for hours under the sun. Fuck ‘em!
Was there no let-up in their attack on his nuts? Bleary-eyed, he looked down. Something sticking out between his legs. Something he was sitting on. Like he was riding a horse. But not a brave steed galloping him away from this agony. Something less noble. Something that was driving fucking agony up into his nuts.
The grinding aches suddenly got him unawares. Digging like a sharp blade into his crutch. Penetrating agony up into Conan’s guts.
He shook his head. Intent on clearing his vision. In an instant he regretted the move. His brains jangled. His head burst in an explosion of pain.
“FUUUUUUCCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
He bit down on his lower lip. His head swung wildly .. the surge of pain in his brain erupted from his guts. Broke in a rush of acid up his throat.
How long he’d been here like this, unconscious? Conan had no idea. But the pain into his tormented gonads was more than making itself felt .. like he’d already spent a lifetime with this pain gouging like a spear up into his nuts. There was an iron bar through the crooks of his elbows, keeping his arms useless. Keeping him upright and in place. His hands tied together, tight against his bare belly. Coming to, looking down .. struggling to understand his plight .. Conan saw his ankles were tied to either side of this wooden wedge between his legs. The fucking device digging into his balls! He jiggled with his feet .. there was movement, some freedom .. but not enough to whip his leg over the top and get the fuck off this thing. No getting away.
He felt some movement in the back of his neck when he squirmed. Though quickly he learned to stop. Every movement his muscular body made only ground more pain into his tortured balls. He froze, common senses stopped his wriggling. Looking up, above he saw a rope dangled down, he felt it in-between his shoulder blades. Was it tied to the iron bar across his back? All these ropes .. on his ankles, tied to the bar between his arms .. all meant to trap him astride the metal edge of this fucking wooden wedge. Meant to keep him pinned here .. with that fucking pain digging into his balls.
Patiently Han was giving the savage brute time to get his head together. He watched without rushing as the barbarian got his thoughts together and evaluated his situation. Slowly seeing he was in a mess. Clearly the barbarian’s primitive brain was struggling with this unexpected situation. Seated astride the wedge. Coming back to life .. the agonies taking hold of his senses .. grinding into his tortured nuts. Unconcerned Han watched the beast throw up .. vomiting down over his front. A good sign. He reckoned this barbarian beast was on its last legs.
While the brute had been still barely conscious, Han’s men had brought him in from the heat of the day. The sun had done its job. The beast robbed of his strength. Drained of his will by crippling heat. The torture under the sun had weakened his pig-headed will .. past experience told Han few could last out under that. After the heat, the bucket of rocks, that impaling with nails – and left to fry in tortured agony – few still found the strength to answer back.
Easy .. the way he was, out of it, as good as dead .. his men had easily strung the savage brute up over the wedge. Tied his hands in his front. A metal bar threaded through the crooks of his elbows. The rope pulling his inanimate torso upwards had slipped the iron bar high up in-between his shoulders .. leaning him forwards. When the slaps across his face brought bawling him back, the barbarian was slumped forward, his bodyweight pressing his tortured balls down onto the wedge.
Han smirked. He couldn’t have put the situation better. He himself would not have phrased it in such foul-mouthed terms. He would not have lowered himself to allow such uncouth curses pass his lips. But the barbarian was right. The prick was indeed fucked.
Seated naked astride the wedge .. its metal upper edge grinding into his aching balls .. after hours out in the sun taking the agonising weight of a bucketful of rocks. A piece of luck he hadn’t ripped — that ballsack had to be made of old leather! – the stubborn pig did not know how lucky he was.
Han had had the rusty nails in his chest removed. But the drag of the nets on his teats had done their work. The flesh was inflamed, he burned there like hell. The barbarian brute had been subjected to agonising hours. Sweated dry by the heat. Pain dragging on his teats. Torture agonising his balls.
Few, in Han’s experience, would have taken anyway near this much. The barbarian was indeed some pig-headed savage animal. But Han was a patient man, he had not exhausted his toolkit yet. With the added agonies of sitting on tortured balls astride the wedge .. Han would be surprised if this barbarian beast would put up much more of a fight.
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