Who knew how many years the hostel had existed without anyone really, really knowing about it. Those sadistic enough seemed to always find their way there. The Internet provided a gateway of sorts for those who wanted to enjoy the pleasures within. If you knew where to look online, you could find places like this in most major cities, and they always managed to get away with the most awful acts...

Except outright murder. People went missing all the time, that could be handled easily enough. But death wasn't so easy to deal with, if it was under the more extreme circumstances.

That was fine with Jason. He wanted Mark to suffer for years of torture, not shoot him as soon as he saw him. The hostel offered first-rate medical care and assured that their "toys" were well-fed and given adequate water and cells with toilets and they were allowed to bathe every day, with supervision. For Jason, who only wanted to be bothered about how he would torture his ex-boyfriend, the one he intended to spend the rest of his life with, this was a perfect arrangement. It cost him quite a lot of money, but he managed to hire the operators of the hostel to kidnap Mark. Other guests of the hostel would no doubt want a piece of Mark at some point, but Jason paid for the first month of Mark's captivity to be exclusive to him.

After Mark was brought to the hostel and chained up, a parachute was secured around his balls. Every hour, a hooded, robed figure would come in, carrying a weight. There was currently a single ten-pound weight hanging from the parachute. The hooded figure came in with another poujnd, hearing Mark's cries as he came in. The hood obscured his face. It was both to ensure anonymity as well as instill fear in the victim. The more times Mark would see him, the eventual association he would have with the added weight on his balls would cause him to be terrified. Such fear would likely result in jerking movements, which would make the weights swing, causing more pain than just the stationary weight pulling at his balls.

The first time Mark saw the figure, not only did he add another one-pound weight to his balls, making it eleven pounds total, but he also attached clover clamps to his nipples, taking his time as he did so. A thick chain was hanging from each clamp, and the figure attached five pounds to each one. Although his face was obscured, the figure couldn't help smiling at the reaction he got when he did this, particularly when the figure massaged and pinched the nipples to get them hard enough to receive the clamps in the first place.

The clover clamps would naturally tighten on their own with each new strain put upon them. They would not be easily ripped off either, and that was what Jason counted on. The anonymous figure would return every hour, putting more weights on his nipples and balls. While his balls received only one pound at a time, his nipples received five pounds on each nipple.

Ten hours passed. Twenty pounds were hanging from Mark's balls, and fifty pounds were hanging from each nipple. It was agony for Mark to move even the slightest, even though the restraints were loose enough to grant him the ability to move.. that was the point. Give him the ability to move, but not the desire. The muscles in the legs and arms would tighten, scream for some kind of relief, but the pain of even the slightest movement would cause the weights to swing, making Mark desperate not to be able to move at all. Yet, eventually, he couldn't help it. He would move sometimes, just to alieviate the pain in his arms and legs. And immediately, as the weights would swing and tug, he would regret even trying.

Jason finally came in, just wearing a pair of black sweat pants, no shirt. He wasn't sure if Mark would recognize him. From the reaction, he doubted it.

Well, isn't that nice, he thought. I give you three years of my life and you don't even remember.

Jason chuckled, setting a large bag down on the floor. He went up to Mark and caressed his tight biceps, covered in sweat from the effort of not moving as much as possible. Jason said nothing, just smiled sadistically. His fingers lightly came to Mark's chest, caressing it, feeling it rise and fall with Mark's shallow, strained, frightened breathing. Jason slowly moved to his nipples, and he could see Mark was scared. He tensed up immediately,

Jason flicked his index finger against the clover clamp. He relished the tiny reaction he received as a result. He did the same to the other clover clamp. Then, he moved both of his hands along the chains attached to each nipple, and gently pushed them with his index finger, ever so slightly.

"Ah!" The cry was short, and relatively soft, considering, but the resulting movement, the writhing, was worth it. Mark's breathing increased, he gulped for air, his head rolled back and forth, and he began to moan softly.

Jason amused himself by gently pushing the chains back and forth, causing the weights to swing, causing Mark to writhe, though he didn't want to. Eventually, Mark began to sob. Tears filled his eyes, but he managed to hold them in.

Mark started to plead with him, offer him money, a favor, anything he wanted. Then he appealed to his sensibility, saying he'd never get away with what he was doing, that people would miss him, he'd get caught.

But the managers at the hostel would never be caught. The beauty of the hostel was that it was literally underground. On the surface was a reputable office building. No one there even knew of the existence of the secret tunnels below. The tunnels were old, dating back from the Prohibition era, desiged to allow the smuggling of illegal liquor, and refuge from the cops. Despite so many gangsters from that time being caught, no one seemed to give away these particular tunnels' existence.

So no one would think to look.

Jason knelt now, and caressed Mark's stomach. It had been a long time since he touched those firm abs. He licked his lips. Mark didn't want to be touched. That much was clear because he jerked away at his touch, no matter how much he tried not to move. Jason caressed and massaged his hips, then his ass, which naturally resulted in move desperate movements from Mark. Jason caressed his groin, then his thighs, massaging them. He brushed the back of his hand against Mark's limp cock. The resulting jerking was the most desperate yet, and the frantic cries of pain as the weights moved in a more forceful way made Jason's own cock throb with desire.

But he would not fuck Mark. That wasn't why he was there. He'd fuck him with objects, and maybe rape him later, but for now, he would have to get his rocks off with one of the other "guests" at the hostel.

Jason continued to massage Mark's thighs, and then his ass, and as he would do so, he purposely brushed his hand against Mark's cock, and the weights attached to his balls. After several minutes, Jason moved his hand to Mark's cock and began caressing it with just his index fingertip. He moved it in a spiral pattern all around the cock, up and down, enjoying the sight of it rising, no matter how much Mark would have preferred it stay limp. He caressed it with two of his fingers, then three, then four. Finally all five fingertips were caressing his now-rock hard cock. Mark was panting and sweating, moaning in pleasure, and pain, and dread. He couldn't keep still, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

The gasp that resulted from Jason's flicking his index finger against Mark's right ball was delightful, music to Jason's ears. He flicked it several times in various places, harder each time. It was wonderful to see and hear Mark react to this torment. Jason continued this for several minutes, then did the same to the other ball. By then, Mark couldn't help but move in a desperate attempt to avoid Mark's flicking finger. His moans of pain were louder, shorter, his breathing increased in speed, he was sobbing. Again, Jason caressed Mark's still-hard cock with the back of his hand, for several minutes, then allowed his full hand to caress it, ever so gently at first, then more pressure was applied, and he slowly stroked it and then squeezed it. Jason was an expert in denying orgasm., which Mark seemed desperate to have at this point, judging by his movements. Yet he continued to moan in pain and sob. It was clear he didn't want to move at all.

With one hand, Jason grasped the top of Mark's cock, squeezing it tight. The other hand removed the weights from the parachute...

Mark seemed relieved, but Jason allowed this sense of false security to last for only a few minutes before he replaced the twenty pounds of weight with a twenty-five pound weight. Then he released Mark's cock, which would no doubt be unable to experiencerelease due to the intense pull on his balls.

That was the first time Mark screamed. The intense weight, having five pounds added instead of one pound, must have hurt like Hell.

And Jason hadn't even set it swinging...

Then again, as much as Mark didn't want to, Jason didn't need to set it swinging. It was easily swung on its own thanks to Mark's own writhing.