It’s all I can hear. Whoever is doing it seems to be rather distressed. Their breath is alarmingly raspy and they’re clearly hyperventilating.

Oh. That’s my breathing.

The realization helps centre me. I’m me. Wherever I am, it’s pitch black. I try to move, but I can’t, I’m restrained. There is something holding my ankles and arms. I have a brief feeling of terrible vertigo, unsure of which direction is up. After a few horrible seconds, my panic subsides. My feet are on the ground; I am standing upright.

I am still restrained. And I don’t have any clothes on.

With an effort, I calm my racing breath. In the quiet, I become aware of my thundering heart.

I try to think back to how I got here, but my mind feels fogged. Drugs, I think, but I don’t know where the thought came from.

I become aware of the presence of objects attached to me. One is behind my balls, another on my back, and a third and fourth on my thighs. I can’t see them to examine them, nor move to feel them. I puzzle over the presence of them, but I have no memory or experience to draw on.

The loud breathing – my loud breathing has returned. I’m panicking. I deliberately take calm breaths, slow breaths and my panic subsides.

A voice in the darkness, metallic and inhuman: “Hello,” it intones.

“Where am I? Who am I?”

My own voice is raspy. The words come, but I cannot identify their font. My memory remains elusive.

“You are our plaything.”

The voice sounds wrong. It sounds like it is made from a synthesizer, a word I know, but a word divorced from its meaning.

“What?”

Pain.

There is pain radiating from my balls, pain that shoots to my thighs and back. The things stuck to me are hurting me. There is screaming in my head. No – I am screaming.

The pain stops and I fall limp in my restraints.

“You are our plaything. You must be trained for your purpose. Your training is simple. We will apply stimulus. You will respond to the stimulus by pleasuring yourself. Once you complete that, the stimulus will end.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand!”

Something in the darkness brushes my dick. It twitches. I feel it hardening. More touches. They are soft. I become very hard. Something wet is applied to it, then the presence withdraws.

The table tilts forward. I feel my dick pressed up against something. It feels like an opening or an orifice. It is yielding, but it doesn’t have the feeling of skin.

“Commencing stimulus. Stimulus will end upon completion of orgasm.”

The pain starts again. I scream and twitch and writhe in response. I can’t get away from it. I try to hide in an empty corner of my mind, but it follows me even there.

I can’t get used to it. There is pain in one configuration for a handful of seconds and then just as I come to terms with it, just as I try to accept it, it is gone and I’m being hurt in another way. Screaming isn’t doing anything.

I remember the instructions. Frantically, I push forward into the orifice. I can penetrate it and it feels good to do so. It’s soft and lubricated on the inside, it feels almost like a pussy, another word I know with a meaning that exists just beyond my grasp. For a second, I forget about the pain. All I can think about is how good it feels. I want to feel more, I want to push in deeper.

When I push all the way into it, the shock changes and suddenly it is moving through my dick, from back to front. This pain is worse than before, worse than any of the others. My throat is raw from the screaming. I pull out as fast as I can.

The pain stops for a split second, then resumes between my balls and my back, then my balls and my left thigh. The pain goes through its rotations and I try and bear it, terrified of the pain caused by the hole.

I don’t know how much time passes, but my screams turn to gasps and hoarse exclamations. There is blood in my mouth and I don’t know if it’s from my tongue or from my throat. I need to end the pain, but the voice said I have to pleasure myself for that.

I have dim memories of a hand, wrapped around the shaft of my dick. But my hands are bound. There is only the orifice.

It felt good for a second. Maybe it’s the only way out.

I gently work myself back inside. It feels just as good as before. I’m cautious this time. I don’t push in too deep. I can’t bear to be shocked again.

The pain from the shocks is still there. I feel like I’m being pulled forward by the pleasure and pushed forward by the pain, as I frantically push the head of my dick into and out of the hole in front of me. I feel something building up inside of me, an avalanche of feelings.

Then the pain strikes again. It’s incredible, indescribable. It feels like my nerves are being flensed apart, layer by layer, cell by cell.

I pull out again. The horrible pain ends, leaving just the dull, ordinary pain and my burning need. I was close to something before the pain, close to something I desperately want to happen. But the pain is there waiting for me.

I endure the shocks for a silent minute. But my need doesn’t recede and I cannot ignore the torture being inflicted on me. I need it to end, even if I have to torture myself to do it.

I push back into the hole and the pain is instant. I can’t help but scream with it. My savaged throat adds another not to the symphony of agony in my body. But despite all the pain, I can feel the glimmers of pleasure.

I frantically push in and out of the hole, tearing my stomach muscles in my eagerness. The pain is there no matter what, so I don’t have to worry about going deep. I push all the way in, desperate for the pleasure and pull all the way out desperate for a respite. I leave a second between each thrust. Every time, I think the pain is too much. But my need has overwhelmed that.

A minute of frantic fucking brings me right to the edge. The devices on me have been going haywire, shocking me all at once, then stopping randomly, and then shocking me in turn. The pain has become just another sensation. Everything pales in comparison to me need.

I feel something building inside of me. I thrust one last time and I feel it come to fruition. My dick twitches and I feel the cum spilling out of it. My orgasm rocks me with its intensity. The room is dark, but there are lights in my head. My scream is of pleasure. I can’t move because my nerves feel too raw.

I realize that the pain has stopped. That alone feels like ecstasy and also holds me rooted in place.

“First conditioning completed,” says the robotic voice.

“Second conditioning will commence in one hour.”