Warning: Contains edging to the point of torture.
After the exorcise, #143 had still not learned who it was who'd hinted at his rescue. And he desperately needed rescue. Especially from what came next.
It was not a prison cell, as #143 had expected to be thrown into. This was another machine placed in full view of all the other cells. #143 was unceremoniously strapped into it. His arms and legs spread wide. They forced him down onto a thick rippling dildo against his will. #143 whimpered and tried to beg, but it was no use.
At last he was properly strapped in, naked on display for all the cells. This was way to humiliating. Nothing else happened for a while, but #143 guessed they were just waiting for all the prisoners to come back to their cells for the show first. Sure enough, as soon as the last prisoner returned from dinner, the machine was switched on.
The thick ripple patterned dildo in #143's ass began poisoning in and out, causing #143 to cry out in a whimper. Another part of the machine began massaging, twisting and pinching his nipples without mercy. Soft feathers started to stroke #143 under his arms, on his neck, on his earlobes, around his waist, between his thighs, along his taint, behind his knees and under his feet. All of his most ticklish spots. He cried out and squirmed helpless to stop the molestation of his body. A syringe injected a powerful aphrodisiac compound into #143's neck designed to make his hormones go crazy.
And then, it began. An evil device swallowed his cock with a slurp and began masterbating and teasing his penis. It kept changing up its technique. Its rhythm. Even its tools. From a wet cock sleeve to an array of tiny insect leg like things that crawled around his cock. From a catheter that slid into his urethra to massage his prostate from the inside to a vibrator attached to the head of the cock. From a series of electrodes across his cock and balls to the licking of a warm and wet artificial tongue that felt way too real. His balls were fondled, shocked, smacked, squeezed and pulled. Every moment was unexpected and unpredictable and always new.
Even the design of the objects in and out of his ass kept changing. From various dildo sizes and shapes to multiple penetrations to slippery tentacles. The feathers ticketing him were sometimes replaced by the tiny mechanical insect legs. Like centipedes roaming around his body.
Yet one thing remained the same no matter what. Whenever #143 was on the verge of having an orgasm, the machine would slow down and deny him the release. It wouldn't stop completely. Just slow enough to try to keep him right on the verge or orgasm without actually letting him cum. And every time it edged him, it kept him on the brink a few seconds longer. The machine was learning. #143 began to fear that before long it would find the balance so well that it would just keep him right there on the verge or an orgasm and not let him come down from the high at all. Just keep him there, so close that an extra breeze would send him over the edge.
He couldn't take it. He cried and begged and whimpered for it to stop or at least give him an orgasm, but no such mercy came. He gasped and moaned and screamed in unthinkable frustration. It just kept ticketing and fucking and masterbating him with no end in sight. The machine never got bored. It never got tired. It just kept on going, getting more and more familiar with #143's body.
The other prisoners watched with much enjoyment and listened to his whimpering and begging. The guards let #143 keep crying out for mercy for several hours before they'd had enough of the sobbing and gaged him with a dildo gag that would feed him a steady stream of cum from the other prisoners that were getting off on his torture. Each cell had a tube to cum into to add to #143's nourishment.
The guards covered #143's eyes with a secure blindfold and propped and covered his ears so he couldn't see or hear anything. All he could do was feel the torture and taste the semen. A subtle and quiet voice, just on the edge of hearing played on repeat in the headphones. A voice designed to sound just like #143's inner thoughts. His own voice. He could barely even tell what was his own thoughts and what was being fed into his ears. Telling him again and again. “I need to cum! I need to cum! Orgasm, please! Please let me cum! I'll do anything! I'll be a good! I'll be your slave! I'll blow everyone's dick! Please! I'm too ticklish! Ah! My nipples! Please stop! My ass! The dildo's too big! Ah! I can't stand this! Please! I need to cum!...” It was a recording of his own moaning, gasping and begging. And it consumed his entire existence. There was nothing but the desperate need.