Refuse to give in.

“You bitch!” Is all you can hiss between your deep breaths as you try to control your passions and regain your manly pride. “Orcus take you before I give into the likes you!”

“It is always so amusing when a man resists.” The raven hair torturer nods quite pleased with your reply as she wipes her lips with her hand. “Let me thank you ahead of time for the entertainment you're about to provide.”

“Get on with it witch!”

“You're brave, Roman. I will give you that.” Bizia looks over your body. “But where shall we begin? Reeds under your finger nails?” Her fingers touch your restrained hand and then glides up your arm and flattening into an open palm she caresses your bare broad chest. “Hundred lashes with the scourge?”

“Hmt.” You wince as sharp finger nails dig into your erect left nipple, pinching you hard.

“Branding with hot irons?” Bizia drags her nails down your abdomen leaving a visible mark. “Stretching you out on the rack? “Or . . .” Her voice becomes excited. “I always enjoyed working with the clamps.” You groan as her hand slaps the underside of your balls, as if she is judging the freshness of a piece of fruit in the market.

“But there is one part of you that keeps on crying out for attention.” Her finger flicks up the underside of your still fully erect shaft, causing it to wave back and forth. “Are you trying to telling me something Roman?”

You look away, desiring to give this bitch as little sanctification as you can, even with such a hard on.

“I will make you a wager, Roman.” She muses. “I will count to fifty and if you can regain control of yourself than I will tell her majesty that I was unable to break you. But if you remain so excited.” She flicks your dick again with her fingers, “well then,” Bizia licks her lips, “I can only assume you secretly want my attention.”

Gently taking hold of your cock the witch slides her hand up and down your shaft with much dexterity. “50 . . . 49 . . . 48 . . .” she slowly counts in rhythm with each stroke.

At first you try to think of the most unpleasant thing you can imagine in an attempt to win this wager, but it's all futile. The witch's melodious voice and expert touch are too much. “This has to be some sort of sorcery!” You think to yourself, trying to justify your continuing arousal.

“. . . 31 . . . 30 . . . 29 . . .” The witch counts as your cock begins to throb.

“Mars help me.” You mutter realizing there is no earthly chance you can win this wager. The only question now is whether you will orgasm before the countdown ceases, furthering your shame.

“. . . 19 . . . 18 . . . 17 . . .” You try to control your breathing. “. . . 16 . . . 15 . . . 14 . . .” Your primal groans begin to echo throughout the chamber. “. . . 13 . . . 12 . . . 11 . . .” “Whore!” You protest. “. . . 10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .” Every muscle begins to tighten. “. . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . .” A bead of cum runs down your shaft.

At the sight of your wetness Bizia removes her hand, “You're weak Roman.” She gives a cruel laugh. “You mustn’t ruin the reward you have earned. But let it be never said I didn't keep my word.” Bizia gleams at her victory, “4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1.” She finishes her countdown, her hands removed from your body.

“You're even harder now then when we start.” The witch gloats as your erect throbbing shaft jutting straight up testifies to your defeat. “This is going to hurt,” Bizia warns, “and it will probably ruin you. So Roman, what is your name?”

“Never.” You hiss, trying to calm the rush of your blood.

“Excellent.” The witch Bizia reaches down into a shelf beneath the **** table. She produces a ceramic jar and a pair of worn, stained, thin leather gloves.

Pulling on the tight gloves she begins her lecture. “This ointment I'm going to rub all over your precious manhood will burn and cause a great deal of discomfort.” The witch opens the ceramic jar and liberally scoops out a large dollop of the cream and then rubs it all over her gloved covered hands. A faint sizzling sound is heard, as little whiffs of burning smoke are given off when the thick liquid makes contact with the leather. Holding her open hands well away from her body Bizia leans over the table, a bead of the cream drips down onto the wood with an ominous hiss.

“The real problem isn't the pain.” Bizia smiles. “When applied while a man has an erection it will make him permanently stay in such a state. And when he gives forth his seed it will cause intense pain, yet never satisfying his needs, but only increase them. The dilemma is delicious to watch. It's like a itch that will never go away, but bleeds when scratch it. Yet with this itch, if you cum to many times in a row your heart will give out, but if you don't seek relief you will go mad. The last man I tortured in this fashion masturbated himself ****.”

Looking down at you with an amused grin the witch ponders, “What will give out first Roman, your heart or your will?” Her hands lower towards your unprotected cock. “Lets find out.”

“Arrrrghh!” You can only partially muffle your scream as Bizia takes firm hold of your shaft, as if she was grabbing the hilt of sword right before battle, searing your flesh with the burning cream. Yanking up and then down with violet pulls the witch brutally covers your entire abused shaft. Your grunts of unnatural arousal are mixed with clenched cries of pain. You yell as she squeezes your balls, making sure every inch of your manly region is fully covered with the acidic cream.

After what seems like hours, the witch finally lets go and ceases your ill-treatment. Gasping, while trying to work through the pain, which you have done many a times during your career as a soldier, you're confronted with a new, disturbing sensation, the uncontrollable desire to cum. Instinctively you try to reach down and yank yourself off, like you did when you were fourteen, but your bonds prevent it. The need for relief is so great you try to gyrate your hips back and forth, causing your cock to wave about in a vain attempt to pleasure yourself.

“Problem Roman?” The witch laughs.

“What have you done to me?!”

“I have told you Roman, it's itch that just has to be scratched.” Bizia grins, “but I wouldn't want you to suffer.”

Taking you by hand the witch begins to stroke you off. Your groan of relief is met with the dreadful realization on how easy you can cum now. Within a mere few seconds you feel that familiar rush as your muscle tense as your breathing quickens.

“You fucking cunt!” Are your last words of protest before your defeat. Low guttural screams of pain escape your lips as streams of thick white cum jet forth from your dick which burns with intense pain. Unfortunately, this twisted orgasm is the most intense and extended of your life. For over twenty seconds you cum, your manly seed shooting high up into the air and then splattering all over your abdomen and chest, each shot burning your cock as if it was spraying forth acid.

You nearly collapse from the intensity of your orgasm. Your mind aching and swirling in confusion, every muscles sore, your dick burning as if it was just removed from the fire, your breath is deep pants, and your heart is erratically and rapidly beating.

“No.” Is all you can mutter when you realize none of these maladies lessen as the should with time. Looking down your body you see your poor abused dick still fully erect, as an even more stronger desire to cum over takes you.

“If the cream isn't washed off with this special solution.” The witch waves another bottle before your eyes. “Then I'm afraid this condition will become permanent.” Bizia slowly drags the bottle up the length of your shaft causing a small bit of new cum to dripple down your dick, burning you as before.

“What is your name, Roman?”