Pain and keys

 I really didn't know how to do this one. The request was simple, but had a combination that I hadn't really run into before. How do you write an interrogation, a torture scene, that has elements of HUMOR to it?

I'm not sure I know. But I gave it a shot. So I guess it's up to you to tell me if I did a good job.

In the meantime, it's New Year's Eve, and I've got some leather straps, ben gay, and a fishing lure with my name on it... don't ask.

Pain and Keys

 A soft whistle sounded from her lips as she moved around him. The straps under his shoulders were pulled tight, the collar locked on solidly around his neck, the belt tight at his waist. She cuffed his wrists together behind him.

“Are you whistling while you work?” he asked, checking to be sure the bonds were tight enough to hold but not tight enough to injure.

“Hush,” she said “I'm not ready to gag you yet.”

“Sorry.”

She ran a cord between his wrists, up to the collar on his neck, then back to his wrists. She pulled a bit tighter, forcing his head back and his arms up just enough to be uncomfortable. Then she hooked the harness at his shoulders to the hook above him.

The motor whirred, and he dangled over the floor.

He looked down at her as best he could, knowing that leaning forward cut off his air. “What comes next?”

“First,” she said, dragging over a step ladder, “Comes this.” She strapped a velcro strip around his wrist and put something in his hand. “Squeeze tight,” she said. “Now, if you let go of this, it will break the connection and set off the alarm. So only do that when you can't handle it anymore, okay?”

He nodded, squeezing tight.

“Good,” she said. “Now I can gag you.”

Before he could respond with something witty or sarcastic, she slipped the flaccid bit of rubber into his mouth and wrapped the strap around the back of his head. She smirked at him as she held up a hand pump and began pressing it, inflating the rubber in his mouth.

“Have you ever considered,” she said, “that if I pump this just a few times too many, it would dislocate your jaw?” She pumped again and again, slowly filling his mouth with the taste of rubber and the pressure of the balloon. “You could just be hanging there, thinking that the gag was just the beginning. I wonder. Would you drop the weight when your jaw popped? Would you really give up so easily?”

She pumped, and he felt tension at the edges of his jaw. She pressed his mouth open a little further.

“Would you stop me before the bones popped out of joint?” she asked. “Would you give up before the actual pain really started?”

She looked him in the eyes with a smirk. “No, you're better than that, aren't you? Mister big, brave masochist, brought low by the chance that your jaw might pop out of joint. You wouldn't do that, would you?”

He did his best to shake his head. She smiled and gave two more pumps, then stepped down the ladder.

“I'm so glad you're focused on the task at hand,” she said, pulling a cart into his view. “You're not cold, are you?” She didn't even look to see his reaction. “Excellent. And not comfortable, either?” She laughed. “Then I think we can begin.”

She sat in a chair on the other side of the cart. “Can you see all right?” He made a muffled sound that she assumed was affirmative.

“Good. Now, all you have to do is tell me the answer to one question,” she said. “When you do that, I'll be happy to let you go.”

She set a box on top of the cart. From the box came a large key ring. One by one, she worked the keys off the ring, until there were more than a dozen laid out on the cart. “Which one of these,” she asked, “unlocks your chastity belt?”

His eyes went wide.

She chuckled. “I'm sorry. I've completely forgotten. I know it was one of these.” she looks at them. “Well, probably, anyway.” She winked at him. “I suppose if not, I could always use a soldering iron to burn through the lock.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Of course, I really have no idea of how much damage that would do to you, being so close to that thing you cherish so much.” She smirked. “So probably best if you pick a key.

“Of course, you really can only choose one,” she said. “I'm pretty sure the key I use will either open the lock or break inside it.”

She sighed. “Or you could open your hand.”

When he didn't react, she shrugged, slid the keys towards the edge of the tray in front of her, and reached back into the box.

From the box she pulled out a mouse trap. With a slight grunt, she set it forward and latched the trap in place. Gently, she laid it on the tray and reached in for another. This one set, she got a third. Then a fourth.

The fifth snapped shut, almost pinching her finger as it did. She jumped at the sound, chuckled a little bit, and looked up at him. “That would hurt,” she said. “Could you imagine one of these on a sensitive part of your body?” She reset the trap and set it down. “Like a nipple.” She picked up one of the keys. “Is it this one?” she asked.

He looked down at her with eyes as wide as they would go. She pressed the key to the trap, and the metal arm snapped shut. She pried the key out and shook her head. “Or maybe on your lip.”

She pressed the key to another trap, which snapped hard. “Or your tongue?” The third trap snapped shut, and the key in her hand broke under the pressure.

“Oops,” she said. “I sure hope that wasn't your key.” She looked at the two traps still ready to spring. “Maybe we should try something else,” she said.

She stood up and walked out of his line of sight. When she came back, she was carrying a heavy bag in one hand, and winding out an extension cord with the other.

“I could fray these wires,” she said. “Maybe just give you a nice shock. They say that a strong enough jolt will make your hair fall out. That would save us a lot of time, wouldn't it?” She looked up at him with a smile. 

“Or you could tell me which key is the right one.”

She picked up a second key. “Is it this one?” She lifted the key and looked at the ridges, rubbing her fingers along the dips and valleys. “Will this one let you out?”

She reached into the bag and pulled out a huge white piece of wood. A bowling pin. She ran the key along the little red ring, scratching the paint a bit. “I wonder if this would fit inside you,” she said. “Do you think it would? Nah, probably too big, right?”

She reached into the bag and pulled out a block shaped machine. “That's why I have this.” She flipped a switch, and the machine began to hum. It looked like the belt on the bottom was whipping around and around. “I could sand it down into a more pleasing shape,” she said. “Though I have to say, bowling pins are pretty much the perfect shape already, aren't they?”

She took the key and pressed it against the belt sander, closing her eyes and listening to the noise it made. She hummed along with it for a few seconds, then opened her eyes wide, as if just realizing what she was doing. “Oh no,” she said. She held up the key, ground flat. “I guess this one won't work either. Shame. I was pretty sure that was the one.” She tossed the key to the side. Then she tapped her hand against the belt sander, gently knocking the belt against her flesh. “I bet that would hurt,” she said. “If I held it up against your skin. Do you think? I could sand off your nipples.”

He struggled, for the first time.

“What?” she asked. “Don't tell me you actually like having nipples. They don't do anything. Just a vestige from that time when you were a fetus, when you were a woman, like all human beings. It's a reminder of the things you've lost. How can you want to be constantly reminded of that?”

She stepped around the tray and hoisted up the sander, whirring it in his direction. “Come on,” she said. “It'll probably stop hurting.” She bit her lip. “Sooner or later.”

He struggled again, thrashing about. She stepped back, out of the way of his wild swings. She waited for the weight to fall and the little alarm to sound, but nothing happened. She was a bit impressed.

“Fine,” she said. “I won't sand off your precious nipples.” she flipped the switch on the sander and put it down, then spun on her heel and held up a hand. “But,” she said, “I can't have you thrashing about like that. We need to do something about all that movement.

“Your choice,” she said. “A hook or a weight?”

He made some kind of noise, but she couldn't make it out without removing the gag, and she had no intention of doing that.

She sighed and shook her head, annoyed. “One blink for hook, two blinks for weight,” she said. “Before you answer, though, let me make sure I have lube.”

He blinked twice, very clearly. Very quickly.

“Fine, fine.” She shook her head. “You ruin all my fun. I suppose this is just as well.”

She hooked the strap around the base of his cock, just over the chastity device. She started with just one weight, and he groaned as it pulled. “If nothing else, this might rip off the device, and then we won't need the key, will we?”

She put another weight on, let them swing a little, and then clapped her hands together at the noise.

She stood suddenly and looked up at him with a worried expression. “Of course, if it does, it will probably take everything else with it. Rip of the device, rip off what's inside, right?” She winced. “I'll just go and get a medical kit, shall I?” She smiled at him. “First, though, just in case,” and she added a third weight.

She flicked them and skipped off as he whimpered.

He shivered as he waited, sweat dripping down his body. He couldn't turn his head, didn't want to move his body any more than he absolutely had to. It sounded like she had left the room. The door opened and closed. He groaned at the tension, squeezed his hand tight, and wondered if it was time to let go. There was pressure at the root of his cock, like the weight was starting to rip it free. The device seemed further down than it had been. He made a desperate moan.

The door opened again and closed, too quickly for her to actually have come in. So too quickly for her to actually have left the room. She stepped back into his line of sight with a first aid kit. She set it down on top of one of the keys, knocking another key off the tray where it bounced on the floor and skittered out of sigh. “Oops,” she said.

“I don't mean to alarm you, but I'm pretty sure that was the one.” She got up to look for it. He heard something rattle along the floor, then a clinking sound. 

“Oops,” she said, again.

She looked up at him with a sheepish grin. “I was hoping we could do this the easy way,” she said. “But your key just went down the drain.” She sighed. “I'm afraid it's gone forever.” She shook her head, then shrugged. “Ah well.”

She got back to her feet and dusted her hands off.

“Looks like the question has gotten a lot simpler,” she said. “The soldering iron, the belt sander, or the weights.”

She stepped forward and added another weight. He screamed into the gag, feeling the pressure and the pull, feeling it slide down. It felt like his skin was separating, like he was being torn in half.

“Would you rather the soldering iron?” she asked, looking up at him as innocently as she could. “It will probably melt through the lock in just a minute or so. Or, if not the lock, then the plastic of the cage will melt away. That's just as good, right?”

He whimpered.

She added another weight. He breathed heavily through his nose, drenched in sweat, focusing his will on holding still, on holding together. Focusing on the pain even as it felt like the cage was slipping, ripping, further and further. The pressure on his testicles was intense. He breathed heavily, hoping that he would not have to spend the rest of his life remembering that pain, remember the agony of being torn apart by the weights.

“Or I could try the belt sander,” she said, looking over her shoulder at it, then back up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Grind our way through the lock, or the plastic. Either way. You might even cum from all the vibration.”

She reached forward and added another weight. He whimpered, clenching his eyes tightly against the pain as it pulled down on him.

“It would probably just peel the skin away,” she said. “I mean, it would hurt, and there'd be blood and all that. But I'm betting you'd survive it anyway.”

He whimpered.

She touched the weights with her fingers, gently pressing down.

Then she pushed down, as hard as she could.

He screamed. His hand opened. Something hit the ground with a loud thud. An alarm sounded.

She pressed a button and lowered him to the ground. He curled up, whimpering, imagining the blood pooling from where his manhood had once been. She deflated the gag and he spit it out with a sob.

“Oh, come on,” she said, petting his head and making comforting noises. “Nothing's torn or broken.”

She uncuffed his wrists, and he reached around to find his cock, tender but unharmed, free from the cage and completely attached right where it was supposed to be.

“It--” he gave a desperate laugh. “It's still there.”

“Of course it is,” she said. “The cage just slipped off. You were sweating, that made it easier.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes, laughing more out of relief. “Couldn't you have just turned up the heat?”

“I offered you the soldering iron,” she said.

He laughed. “In the room.”

“Heavens no,” she said. “It had to be terror sweat.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

He laughed again and closed his eyes, his head cradled in her hands.

“I really do need to find that key,” she said.