Date: Sun, 11 Oct 2009 15:46:59 -0400
From: Peter Rodman <pdrodman@gmail.com>
Subject: The Pepper Torture

We have a pleasant enough dinner, but you're in one of your untalkative
moods, so we're largely surrounded by silence. By now I know better than to
break the calm with words. I say absolutely nothing unless speaking in some
manner is directly solicited by you.

Then, in compliance with your wishes, we have an edging session. I get down
on my knees before you as you sit in a chair and go to work on your cock
and balls with my mouth and hands. You tell me you want it to last for an
hour --- my task is to keep you rock hard at every moment without allowing
your dick to ever be anything less fully aroused and maximally stiff while
at the same time not stimulate you enough to cause you to cum until the
hour's up. Success requires concentration and full attention to the details
of what you're doing and how the body you're doing it to reacts. You set a
timer and I know you'd better not cum before it rings or I'll be in BIG
trouble with a new surname --- Mud.

My skills have been improving since I came under your mantle, and after the
hour of controlled stimulation passes and I eventually hear the timer go
off I set out to end it once and for all. You're so worked up by now that
it doesn't take much effort at all to push you over the edge (once it's
safe to do so, timewise). You flood my mouth with a torrent of white lava
and I make sure to swallow each drop (fearing the wrath and punishment
that'll be upon me if I don't). Similarly, I well know better than to touch
my own hardon.

A few minutes after you recover and your body settles down from the
exhilaration it's just experienced I hear the words I dread: "It's time." I
wonder if this will be a repeat lesson at a more intense level or something
completely new. Either way the end result will be the same: massive levels
of severe pain, agony, suffering, misery, and screams.

Already naked except for leather straps around my wrists and ankles, ---
along with a leather collar around my neck --- I approach you and place my
hands behind my back while you secure them together there. The leash is
attached to the collar and you calmly lead me down the stairs into the
basement. We enter your special room called "the learning center" where I'm
supposedly learning to take pain like a real man (really, of course, it's a
spacious, modern, well-equipped, soundproof dungeon and torture chamber ---
I imagine it must have been extremely expensive). What kind of lesson has
the teacher prepared for the student today? I wonder. My progress in
learning to handle pain is monumentally slow and infinitesimally small, and
I marvel at your patience in sticking with it and not declaring me
hopeless.

You bring me over to a table I've been secured to many times before. In a
medical office it'd be an exam table but here it's a torture table. After
detaching the leash and freeing my hands you snap your fingers and in
response (I've been trained like a dog, I think to myself) I lie down on
the table on my back. You set to work attaching me to the table, and you're
whistling a tune at the same time--- the edging blow job's improved your
spirits. Of course you're probably also happy knowing soon I'll be in agony
--- something you always enjoy. I wonder if it's no accident that you've
chosen the melody to "Whistle While You Work" for your whistling while you
work.

My limbs are spread and you tie them down once. And then again -- and then
yet again --- in more places along their length. You've never spent so much
time tying me down before, doing it at so many different levels. You also
make sure my body trunk's heavily secured. By the time you're done I can't
move at all. And I'm filled with severe anxiety. What's going to happen
must be sheer agony at a never before experienced level if it means the
victim has to be secured so strongly.

It's about time for you to start your psychological terror exercise ---
casually filling me in on what I'm in store for --- giving me all the juicy
details of how the pain'll be produced --- in a straight-forward, matter of
fact way that can also be rippled with little undercurrents of sarcasm at
times.  It all amounts to playing mind manipulation games --- getting
inside my head and installing fear there. You're quite good at this.

And just as I think that you start in. "You've probably noticed I'm taking
extra time and tying you down more tightly than I ever have before. Quite
necessary for what'll be happening --- this torture produces pain so
extraordinary your body'll involuntarily be inspired to fight with
super-human strength in its effort to break free of the restraints and
flee. It'll be out of your control --- your body will just do it."

You pause to let that pleasant (depending on one's point of view, I
suppose) thought sink in. "It isn't possible for any man to take this
torture in silence --- the screaming starts immediately.  The screams will
be astounding --- unparalleled in intensity and duration. But it's another
one of those situations where your screaming will eventually come to an end
--- not because you've gained control of yourself and started taking the
pain like a real man --- and not because you're unconscious.  No, your
screams will cease because your vocal cords will be all screamed out ---
incapable of doing it any more, they'll fail you. You'll scream for as long
as you can `till you simply can't do it any longer. And for what's about to
happen to your body soon, for most men their screams are more shrill and
piercing than normal. Eventually I may even find it too irritating to
continue listening to them, so I've brought along powerful ear plugs just
in case I need them --- and you know me --- normally the sound of my victim
screaming is music to my ears."

You're following your usual pattern now --- words to instill fear followed
by a pause to let them be fully digested, after which more dread-inspiring
words flow out of your mouth.  "This is an amazing torture that very few
seem to know about. All kinds of accomplished masters and sadists have
never heard of it and consequently it isn't in their trick bags. It's not
that complicated to administer --- as long as you can get a hold of one
vital ingredient. And it produces pain at a level far beyond which anyone
would imagine. And at the same time it causes no damage to the body and
leaves behind no scars. So in many respects it's ideal. I'm just glad I'm
one of the few who do know about it and how to do it. Aren't you lucky?"

And of course it's working --- your words are having the desired
effect. Try as I can to block them out, I find that impossible.  And it's
more than just the words --- it's the way you speak them, the tone of your
voice, the way certain key words are emphasized. I'm very scared now ---
very.

"By now you're just dying to know what's going to happen --- aren't you?
Even if you won't admit it I know you are. I should have mentioned that
once it's over while your body physically will be none the worse for it,
emotionally it's a completely different story --- you'll never be the same
again.  At the mere mention of the possibility of experiencing this torture
again you'll totally lose it. And let me remind you that we --- you and me
together as a team --- you to feel the pain and me to make you feel the
pain --- never do anything just once. What takes place here now will happen
again."

You pause for effect and then go on. "It's all about chili peppers --- the
spicy, super hot ones. Some ethnic groups in other areas of the world use a
lot of them in their cuisine --- we don't use them as much here in the
States. Actually it's very simple.  A thick paste --- not a sauce --- is
made from the hottest peppers known on earth and applied to the end of your
dick, directly rubbing it into the tender, sensitive skin found where the
head meets the shaft (the corona, with particular attention to the
glans). The paste can also be smeared elsewhere --- like your balls. It'll
be easier to coat the paste on if your dick's erect so we're going to make
that happen, too --- in a novel way. Anyway, the paste is left on and
gradually --- very, very slowly --- with time the pain subsides --- and
then it can be applied again --- and again --- indefinitely. This can go on
for hours. The pain would go away quicker, of course, if someone flooded
the area with copious amounts of water to wash the paste off --- but that's
not about to happen --- not here, not now."

Another pause and then more follows. "This rarely applied, highly unusual,
and little known torture produces extremely high levels of intense pain in
the adult male body when the strongest, most potent, powerful chili peppers
are used. The pain it evokes is incredible --- thus the need for having the
victim tied down extremely well. Anyone who's ever had the good fortune to
see a man subjected to the supreme suffering elicited by this novel
treatment will never forget it.  It's quite breath-taking --- absolutely
stunning, really. Even the most experienced pain-solicitors will say
they've never seen anything so instantly effective. No doubt if more
torturers knew of it, they'd eagerly rush to add it to their sadistic
repertoires."

Now you set out to educate me about the actual peppers you'll be
using. "Here are more of the details --- they'll help you understand why
this is such an exotic, exciting, and exquisite agony-producer. It turns
out in 1912 an American chemist named Wilbur Scoville developed a test for
rating the pungency of chili peppers --- the scale he used is named for him
and measures the degree of hotness found in a chili pepper, assigning it a
number value. Bell peppers are so mild they have zero Scoville Heat Units
--- abbreviated SHU.  New Mexico green chilis come in at about 1,500 SHU,
jalapeņos at 3,000--6,000 SHU, and habaneros at 300,000 SHU. The hottest
chili pepper known to man --- the Naga Jolokia from India --- measures a
mind-boggling one-million Scoville Heat Units. So a thick paste made of
them rubbed onto a man's dick is going to induce immense agony. Naturally
those are the ones we'll be using."

This seems unreal --- I've never heard of heat units and know nothing about
peppers being measured. Once again you're making up for a deficiency in my
basic education.

"I've tried to grow the Naga Jolokias myself from seeds, but I guess the
natural growing conditions of the Himalaya foothills are necessary for them
to reach full potency. So I order them now --- costs more but it's
definitely worth it. I mix the paste myself in the kitchen with the
blender. I started out using water, which works --- but I experimented a
bit and found I prefer olive oil. The desirable consistency is quite
thick. When you're mixing it's tempting to test a bit of it and be sure
it's effective, but I learned once the hard way not to do that. It'll be
tested soon enough when it's on your cock."

You move on to more details about another matter you mentioned
earlier. "You may be wondering how I'm going to keep your dick hard since
torture in a man's body normally works against that. I've found a method
that works much better than the usual things like a tight cock ring,
viagra, or a battery-operated anal vibrator stimulating the
prostate. Injecting something called Caverject directly into your dick will
do the trick. That's the brand name for a substance called alprostadil. I'm
giving you a dose that should keep you completely hard --- no matter what
else is happening anywhere else in your body --- for two full hours."

And now that you've pretty much filled me in on everything it's time to get
on with it. You roll a cart over and put on gloves, a mask, and eye
goggles. A large bowl with a cover has the pepper paste in it. It must be
seriously potent, dangerous stuff if you're inspired to take such
precautions with it. You're silent and efficient now as you go about your
tasks. I'm silent too --- for once I'm not begging you not to do what
you're going to do --- it's always been a total waste of time, effort, and
energy and never stopped anything from happening. I guess I've learned that
it's pointless, undignified, and ultimately embarrassing to beg in
desperation that way.

You wipe a spot on my soft dick clean with an alcohol-saturated gauze pad,
stick in the needle, and proceed to administer the Caverject. I've never
had an injection in my cock before and it's certainly not pleasant --- but
you're smooth and efficient and know what you're doing. I wonder if I could
do this to myself if I couldn't get it up on my own any longer and reach no
conclusion about that. Whatever's in the solution in the syringe is very
effective and fast-acting --- probably within one minute I'm as hard as can
be.

There's not much more to say now beyond what you've already said without
being redundant.  It all happens exactly as you described. You grab the
middle of my cock shaft with one hand and hold it tight while the other ---
loaded with a good-sized glob of the paste --- begins rubbing it on and
into --- including into the foreskin --- and all around the end of my
cock.. I'm in instant agony --- my dick's on fire, burning with an
intensity beyond belief. And my screams begin immediately --- the only time
they stop is briefly for a few seconds whenever I have to take in a
breath. My body revolts, struggling with all its might against the
restraints --- they're so effective that in spite of all my efforts I'm not
moving at all. Only my head is free for motion, and it violently jerks from
side to side as copious tears flow nonstop down my cheeks. It takes perhaps
twenty-five minutes --- in the time range you predicted --- for the pain to
diminish and subside to a level of mere throbbing.

And now I'm no longer silent, instead begging desperately for this to end,
that there be no more of it, endlessly and repeatedly saying `no!' and
`please'. You merely laugh and tell me "we've hardly started --- it'd be a
waste of the Caverject to quit while your dick is still hard. There's
something immensely gratifying and satisfying," you continue, "when you
hear your terror-filled victim endlessly shouting `no' and then desperately
pleading and energetically begging you to be merciful and have pity and
reconsider and not do to his body what you --- with a cold, hard, unmoved
heart --- have every intention of immediately doing, knowing nothing is
going to stop or prevent it from happening --- and realizing how much
you're going to enjoy watching and hearing the suffering and knowing you're
the cause of it."

For the second round you grab a mass of the pepper paste from the bowl with
each hand and liberally coat and rub it into and on the surface of not just
the tip but my entire cock this time. I shouldn't be surprised --- since
applying the powerful pepper paste to the entire cock seems much more
extensive, horrendous, vicious, sinister, evil, perverse, cruel, mean,
sadistic, severe, and devilishly diabolical than merely placing and rubbing
some on only the penile glans, of course you'd be doing that. And when you
do the immediate agony is so immense it's beyond describing. My screaming
becomes even more shrill and intense (if that's possible).

After about another half hour --- when the paste has largely dissipated and
things have finally calmed down --- we move on to round three. This time
after drenching my cock with the potent, powerful pepper paste, both of
your hands return to the bowl for second loads to rub into and on my
balls. If I wasn't so tightly tied down I'd be thrashing up a storm. And
very shortly after this the screams end --- I can scream no more today (it
turns out you never used the ear plugs). But it doesn't mean I'm no longer
screaming 'cause it doesn't hurt any more --- that's not the case at all.
After about forty minutes it's time to re-apply the paste. Unfortunately
for me you've made plenty of it --- there's no danger of running out. In
spite of all the agony the pepper paste has produced in it my dick is still
rock hard.

"I'm gonna try something new now," you tell me. I watch in fascination and
horror as you're filling up what must be a condom with the paste. "I'm
hoping totally surrounding and bathing your dick surface with the paste
this way --- without air pockets --- will mean the pain won't gradually
fade but instead will last indefinitely at the high initial level ---
continuing full strength for as long as the condom remains on. We'll
see. I'm working on coming up with some kind of similar form-fitting
stretch pouch like a draw string bag that can be filled with the paste,
tightly wrapped over your ball sac, and then remain in place to leave you
in even more continuous agony. Sorry I don't have one ready to try out
today."

You can be so diabolical and fiendish --- if there's a way to make
something you're already doing hurt even more you'll find it. You're
thoroughly enjoying this, making and watching me suffer and hearing my
screams.  Even if there were no other reasons to be doing it, you'd subject
a victim to agonizing torture like this just for `the fun of it' --- fun
for you, anyway. It reminds me of those who go out and climb one of the
world's tallest and most challenging mountains and when later are asked why
can't come up with anything to say back except `because it's there'.

The condom performs as desired. The searing pain just lasts and lasts and
lasts --- only by now I have no screams left in me --- but my body wants to
give them and still goes through the motions, so it's like I'm producing
soundless screams (is that an oxymoron?). After a half hour you remove the
condom --- carefully discarding it --- and finally the entire ordeal ends
after approximately two solid hours of immensely effective torture.

You change your gloves, bring out fresh wet towels, and proceed to
thoroughly clean the remains of the paste off of my genitals. You're
careful to place the towels with any remnants of paste on them in a thick
plastic bag --- properly laundered they're reusable. I'm whimpering,
heaving, and quietly sobbing --- an emotional basket case. And my dick's
still hard.

And now you're talking again. "No doubt you're thinking this can't get any
worse, but actually it can. With any torture that's usually the case. Often
the limiting factor becomes when will you cross the line and be operating
in a realm where death is a serious possibility."

The coolness of the thick, soft, plush wet towels feels wonderful. "Your
cock and balls are quite red, sensitive, and a bit swollen," you tell
me. "Still, overall they're none the worse for the wear and tear ---
tomorrow they'll look and feel and function as good as new. Isn't that
amazing?" You've dried them and you gently rub a soothing, healing,
relief-providing ointment of some kind on them and I'm grateful.

I say nothing and you nonchalantly prattle on. "Another thing I hope to try
is making a smaller batch that's more like sauce --- not as thick as the
paste --- and fill a plastic syringe with it and inject in into and fill up
your urethra with it. That should really set off some fireworks! In case
it's not a familiar term, the urethra is the tube in the center of a man's
dick that his piss and cum travel through to reach the outside world."

Finally my hardon is beginning to fade --- and then it's gone, disappearing
about as quickly as the injection inspired its presence.  And you're still
talking. "It turns out the active ingredient in any pepper responsible for
its hotness is a chemical called capsaicin. At room temperature it's a
solid, waxy substance. The more of it a pepper contains, the higher its
number on the Scoville scale. Pure capsaicin has a SHU value of sixteen
million --- that's sixteen times as potent as these Naga Jolokia peppers
we've been using today!"

That seems unimaginable, totally unfathomable --- I can't even begin to
contemplate how severe using it would be. "So the absolute maximum ultimate
situation," you continue, "would be for the paste being rubbed onto your
cock to be made with pure capsaicin. Just imagine the potential results!
That would have to be the zenith of pain production possible in a male
body!"

Now you're starting to untie the ropes and release the straps holding me
down. Since there're so many it takes longer than usual to be set free.
When I consider that at last this terrible trial is truly over I become
very emotional, crying and blubbering like a baby for a few moments. I'm a
grown man supposedly in his prime and the unique torture you've inflicted
has reduced me to this.

And seemingly oblivious to that your one-way chatter goes on. "Pure
capsaicin won't dissolve in water --- to make it into a paste you'd have to
find a liquid it's soluble in --- although if the amount you have to work
with is minimal you wouldn't need much liquid at all." Not surprisingly, it
seems you've given the matter considerable research and thought.

I want to be out of this unpleasant room (my mind certainly associates
nothing positive with it) and back in my bedroom, not having to listen to
this any longer --- yet I have no choice as you still go on. "Apparently it
isn't easy to obtain the pure form. It's expensive and it's also a
controlled substance --- that means it's basically limited to serious
medical and academic researchers. Most likely if you could get some at all
it'd only be very small amount. But this is one of those situations where a
little bit goes a long way. The real question is could a man survive it?
The possibility has to be seriously considered that torturing a man with
pure capsaicin on his cock could be fatal. So disappointing as it might be
I don't think we're going to try it."

You say it as if I'm expected to bow down and fawn over you in gratitude
upon hearing it. What I do consider for a fleeting moment is that there's
no limit to the ways a man can be made to feel pain by an expert like
you. You enjoy it so much, where would you be without someone like me? What
will it be the next time you lead me down here?  And how soon will it be?

After what I've been through I'm in no shape to walk back up the stairs.
You throw me over one of your shoulders in a firefighter's body-carrying
position, take me upstairs, and deposit me on my bed. My body begins the
process of repairing itself with the difficult sleep I immediately fall
into. But what's the point? As soon as I recover from something horribly
painful then something else equally if not more painful is done to me that
requires recovering all over again. How long can this go on?  And when will
I start to handle what happens to me like a real man?  Sometimes I think
the answer to that is simply `never' --- perhaps I'm too old now to
change. I just don't know.